Connor didn’t have an ‘off button’. How Blaine could let that slip past his mind, he had no idea. Mental note for next time. Though he was fairly sure changing this leopard’s spots was going to be impossible. He knew Connor was loving the playful hell he was putting him through. One look into Connor’s dark eyes dancing with happiness at himself was all it took for verify the thought. If someone had a need to check in the first place.
Blaine choked on his coffee. Choked. When the lighthearted way he was listening to Connor’s banter came back to bite his rear in the form of a particular image painted with one of the things Connor might do to him in that situation flashed in his mind. With watery eyes due to caffeine up the nose, he stared at the table and shook his head before looking back up and TRYING so hard to fire back ANYTHING that was going to get him ground to catch his footing on. “I..” Dang it! Bad time to pause! “Good luck getting any of that by calling me Smurfster. Contrary to popular belief..or maybe just your own… names like that are NOT the way to get anyone.. By anyone, we’re referring to me, in nothing but their–aka my–tie..”
Don’t laugh. Whatever you do. Don’t laugh. …Breathe.. Poor Sebastian. He didn’t deserve that!
In spite of his efforts, Blaine did crack a smile and the laugh he tried to swallow escape about halfway before he was able to force it down. The light in his eyes remained and, surprisingly, didn’t fade even after the very overt insinuation that was all way too true for him to deny. Doesn’t mean he couldn’t sit back hard against his chair and go a kaleidoscope of crimsons all the way down to his neck where they disappeared underneath his crisp white collar.
“I.. Connor!” Blaine skipped right over the comment about any sort of pelvic movements so blatantly that he couldn’t even pretend not to. “I’d be careful. If that gets back to Sebastian? You might end up with a lacrosse stick somewhere you don’t want it to be..”
Have anyone mentioned how perfect your ass is in those pants?’
Just like poof!! In the blink of an eye, the sassy retort he was about to give Connor was ripped right out of his mouth. The Warbler stopped mid-attempt to stand up with his mouth open and an owlish stare towards Trent who stumbled away from his slight eavesdropping glowing more red than the crimson washing over Blaine’s nose and cheeks. Trying to gain some of his composure back, Blaine palmed the gaping expression off his face and shot Connor a flustered smile that was his attempt at a grin. So close, yet so far.
“I don’t think anyone but you…and maybe Sebastian with his overt hints that aren’t really hints at all..has the nerve to pull that off. You’re impossible. You know that. Right?”
Every movement performed by the Warbler didn’t go unnoticed by Connor.
It was almost like he was watching one of those BBC documentaries about the animal kingdom. When a predator picked it’s prey and slowly approached in for the kill. Connor was the predator and Blaine was that sweet adorable deer in whom he was about to sink his teeth in. The way he looked at him was curious. Almost endearing. Trying to read past his initial movements while seeking to keep some distance between them until Blaine could evaluate the true purpose of him being there. Was he that blind? Couldn’t he realize the effect he had on other people? How attractive he was? Connor’s head tilted once more, his eyes scanning down Blaine’s frame and getting him undressed in his mind. Picturing how handsome he would look bending over that piano, moaning his name in that musical tone he used while practicing with the Warblers.
“Don’t tell me I’m making you nervous, Samwise Gamgee.”
Another step forward followed by another and Connor reduced the distance between them in a couple of steps so that he could be close to Blaine. He could see him perfectly now. See how tense he was due to that approach. He could feel the scent of his cologne, see the spark of curiosity behind those big, brown eyes. Definitely attractive. No wonder there was so many people after him. And his ass? Uff – He had an ass for days and Connor simply wanted to touch it. Taste it. Bang it. And what Connor Walsh wanted – he usually got.
“Connor Walsh. Transferred student.” Connor knew he could at least introduce himself. As for the other question – maybe he could give Blaine a preview of his problem. “It’s a rather problematic issue. You see…”Connor smiled his most dashing smile as he reached out to take one of Blaine’s hands onto his own, touching his knuckles ever so gently without ceasing the eye contact. Those were really pretty eyes. And he did had an handsome face. And he was hot all around. “This problem I have? You are partially responsible for it.” Their faces were closer now and Connor couldn’t prevent a grin from forming on his lips as he placed Blaine’s hand against his crotch. There was where the hard issue was. All eight inches of it. “Think you can take care of this problem, Yoda? It’s your fault it had became this hard and… unbearable.”
This pulse began to quicken. Faster and faster. It rushed through his veins in a frantic, dizzying pace. Louder and louder until it was a deafening thunder in his ears. He barely heard Connor calling him another Tolkien reference as a dry tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. Blaine forced a swallow and ran the roughness of it back and forth over the ridges of his gums to wet it again. His breathing turned shallow–stopped–and then purposefully filled his lungs in an agonizingly slow inhale. His refusal to shift his feet even an inch sending one message while the throbbing vein running up the curve of his neck said something quite the opposite.
Finally one toe to heel step backwards.
He never felt so under the microscope as he did when Connor’s gaze moved down his body yet again. Without a single care whether or not he noticed. They both knew he would. Connor wanted him to. Didn’t he?
Polished onyx stopped him. No room to move and Connor was too close for a step sideways. A frustrated glance down at his reflection in the mirror-like surface. “Problematic,” he asked with a flick his attention back to Connor. The moment his hand was taken sent chills up his arm. Blaine wished he could’ve kept his mouth shut as a shudder danced along his spine. Lips parted and he stared into Connor’s eyes not daring to look away. Considering where his first instinct to look was. A grin spread like the Cheshire Cat’s–slow and knowing–over Connor’s mouth. “I’m responsible? I haven’t done…” There was a slickness over Connor’s bottom lip. Blaine could almost taste the flavor of it. “Anything…”
A movement, the press of an unmistakably hard length against his palm. The world tilted sideways, fire splashed from his stomach and ran all the way to his feet where toes curled against the soles of his shoes. Fingers twitched and curled inward along Connor’s problem. “Oh…,” not able to see much between them with one glance down, Blaine bit through the way Connor’s problem was becoming his own problem and pulled whatever willpower he had to press his lips together and then curve them into a smile. Long lengths straightened out leaving his palm in place as he whispered words he could barely believe he mustered up. Through a furious blush he hated himself for having, they came. “I don’t see why this is my fault and–I’m pretty sure you can take care of it one handed. I doubt my help is necessary at all.”
Connor’s grin remained on his lips – not that he was able to stop smiling towards the sight of the famous Blaine Anderson before him. He had heard so much about him. That he could sing like a dream, that he had moves that made everyone – men & women alike – fawn all over him. Quite the legion of fans he had. And Connor was a curious individual that needed to evaluate things with his own eyes rather than taking someone else’s opinion about the said person. His taste was far greater than anyone else around that boarding school – proof of that was how hideous those uniforms were, and he simply had to check for himself who this Blaine guy was. It would seem that the reports about him being talented weren’t just comments coming from perpetually horny teenagers.
Blaine was actually quite attractive. Big brown eyes, dark hair that matched his own… flustered pink cheeks and a smile to die for. And that ass? That ass was probably the material that legends were made of. Perfect and perky and Connor couldn’t help but to wonder how tight it would be. But then again, he thought about sex almost all day. It was hard not to when there was so many cute guys around for him to snatch and makeout with. The only problem he could see with Blaine was… his height. He was cute and adorable and he freaking resembled a damn pug with those big, pleading brown eyes.
How cute was that?
Connor cut the distance between them with a couple of steps and shamelessly – he had no idea what the word shame meant – took Blaine’s measures with his eyes in a way that almost revealed that he was undressing him in his mind. Maybe he had to give the rumours some credit. “I don’t know. Can you help me? I have a hard problem and I might require someone’s assistance to take care of it. I mean – if you think you possess the necessary skills to aid me, R2D2.”
“Sure. No forgiveness required but sure.”
Curiousness was quickly turning into something else the longer Blaine watched Connor’s expression and never–not even for a second–saw that grin falter. Self-consciousness began to creep in instead. Not to an apprehensive level by any means. Dalton was a safe place. But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering why he was beginning to feel like Connor had him under a magnifying glass and depending on what he discovered about him–or thought he did? The glass would either be lowered so Connor could see more. Or turned at the precise angle to catch enough sunlight and burn him to a crisp.
Touching the tips of his fingers to the polished black lip of the piano’s edge–Blaine stood his ground in spite of the growing sense of whatever this feeling growing inside of him was. Confusion? More than that. Fear? No–not really. But his heart was beating faster as he watched Connor come closer. His stomach felt like it shifted up several inches before plummeting down to the soles of his shoes and bounced back up.
Who was this guy? And what did he want?
Connor answered his question with a question. How lucky was he?
That’s when he realized what it was. No one ever looked at him the way he was being looked at right now. And he had no clue how to react to it other than stand his ground and not break eye contact. His jaw tightened and his head tilted–gaze darting back and forth questioningly over Connor’s. The piano’s reflection dulled under the heat coming from Blaine’s palm. Thank God, the other couldn’t see it. Still, no budge whatsoever from the Warbler. “I don’t know. I guess it would depend on what problem it is? If you’re willing to answer that question for real this time. You can call me Blaine by the way. And you are?”
What was the big deal with those Warbler guys anyway? Everyone around Dalton was so cheerfully talking about them that nearly made Connor sick to his stomach with so many talks about the guys. Not like they were a stripper group or anything. All they did was sing and they were named after a freaking bird! But boy – were they popular. Especially this one creature called Blaine Anderson. He seemed to walk in clouds and sing like a dream and everyone worshiped the damn floor he stepped on. What had that guy to be so special? Who was this… Blaine Anderson? Curiosity took the best of Connor and one afternoon he waited for the Warblers to finish their practice. He had to admit that they knew how to sing – but he had no need for lullabies. He just… wanted to know who this Blaine guy was and what was about them to be so special. So when the Warblers left, all of them bidding Blaine their goodbyes, Connor slithered his way inside the room and closed the doors behind him.
There he was. Bending over a piano and Connor had to tilt his head for a better view. Now he got it. Everyone was after Blaine cause his ass in those pants looked absolutely divine! And that wasn’t any easy feat since the uniform pants were plain horrible. But there he was. Big brown eyes and a gelmet head and… was he really that short? Did he somehow stepped into Middle Earth and ended up meeting with a freaking Hobbit? Definitely the ass. That had to be the only reason why people liked him. Maybe his voice too but Connor wasn’t interested in hearing him sing – unless it was while he made a work out of that ass. A Hobbit with a great ass. Fuck. The world was coming to a fucking end if he actually contemplated it. Heck, Blaine seemed like the sort of guy that would need a stool to look intimidating. But he did had a great ass.
“So you’re Blaine Anderson. THE Blaine Anderson. You’re a long way from Middle Earth, aren’t you?”
Blaine decided to stay behind after a late running Warblers practice and make his night even longer so he could and take advantage of the piano to practice on. There were others inside the Music Room but this one was his favorite. A gift to the Warblers by an alumni who was–also–part of the team more than fifty years ago. Imported from Italy and carrying a price tag that had to be close to a year or more’s tuition. The instrument was a masterpiece and meticulously kept in perfect condition by the Orchestra teacher himself–who was struggling to figure out the culprit was occasionally putting shoe imprints on top of it. Granted, those miraculously stopped happening since a chance late night encounter like this one had him and Blaine crossing paths long enough that he could ask the young Warbler if he had any clue who might be jumping on the thing.
Blaine had ‘no idea!’. But the imprints stopped abruptly.
Except maybe one or two more times. Not that the coincidence went unnoticed by the teacher who gave him knowing glances when they appeared after their conversation.
Tonight–the piano was propped open and footprint free. Blaine tinkered around with notes he struggled to pin down. Frustrated he couldn’t get a full bar of music he wanted to play out–he stood to stretch slender arms, wriggle his fingers loose and bend over so he could leaf through the pages of the song book resting on the bench. One pointer hooked in his tie to loosen it when he stiffened hearing a voice come out of nowhere. Clearly caught off guard–he didn’t hear Connor enter. Or the door close. Blaine did–however–hear what he said. Taking in a deep breath–he straightened up and turned to look at the stranger. His cheeks were pink but he had a brow stuck in the arched position and a flustered flash of a smile was his first response to the greeting. If you call it that.
“Excuse me? Lord of the Rings reference. Nice. I’m more of a Star Wars kind of fan myself but–hey–to each his own. Can I help you with something?”
pianokeysandbowties 