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Glee Fic: A Born Performer

Title: A Born Performer
Author: Caroline-Shea
Word Count: ~3,500
Rating: NC-17 for sexytimes!
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Warnings: Totally shameless PWP
Summary: This was written as a thank-you to doofydarrenprojects, who requested: “Kurt flashing back to some sexy times while watching Blaine perform on stage” and “Blaine self-lovin’ in the flashback.” I was *quite* happy to oblige.




A Born Performer


Kurt’s really trying hard to be a supportive boyfriend here, okay? He really, really is.

He’d turned down a Saturday mall outing with Mercedes and Rachel in favor of watching the Warblers perform at yet another amusement park and he’s sitting stoically in a torturously uncomfortable folding chair, feeling the backs of his denim-clad thighs cling to the vinyl seat cushion, sweaty and sticky from the hazy summer heat.

Now at the beginning of the concert, he’d been pleased to note that Blaine had taken his advice to heart. The senior Warblers are alternating on lead vocals for the numbers – it definitely doesn’t look like Blaine and the Pips anymore - and Blaine had even informed Kurt a few days ago that the Warblers have agreed to widen their song selection from the usual Top Forty.

So now there are new Warblers singing new songs that the soloists had chosen themselves - and really, that would be great if there wasn’t just one slight problem:

They’re bad.

Seriously. They’re all really bad.

Don’t get him wrong – all of the Warblers sing beautifully. But none of them remotely have the stage presence of Blaine, and as for the song preferences of the individual Warblers?

First there had been Thad, opening the performance with a slow-as-molasses version of “Way Down upon the Swanee River.” That had been… interesting.

 And then Gabriel had serenaded the audience with all nineteen verses of “Stairway to Heaven” which aside from being ungodly long is just very weird to listen to without an actual… guitar?

David had sung some bizarre number about “leaving a cake out in the rain” that Kurt just hadn’t even begun to fathom (not that he’d really been trying.)

Kurt had started shaking his head in mute horror during “Muskrat Love”, which had been accompanied by ‘dancing’ in the form of step-shuffle-steps - and by the time Wes starts in on the fifth verse of the Ohio state song (“Beautiful Ohio!”), the audience members are starting to not-so-surreptitiously check their watches and cell phones for the time.

He’s really almost about to put both the audience and the Warblers out of their misery – maybe he should pretend to faint? - he’s practically falling asleep, anyway – when his gorgeous, charismatic boyfriend steps up to the front of the stage.

The Warblers gather around Blaine in a semi-circle and Blaine looks out at the crowd with a gleam in his eye. Kurt can almost feel the energy in the audience pick up; Blaine’s charisma is absolutely undeniable.

And then – oh, wow – as soon as the background Warblers start singing, Kurt knows exactly what song they’re doing. It was a song they’d started creating vocal arrangements for when Kurt had been at Dalton, but they’d never ended up finishing it as the Council had deemed the song ‘too edgy.’

But apparently Blaine had charmed them into overcoming their reservations, as is evidenced by the sight of his boyfriend absolutely rocking out to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard.

Kurt will be the first to admit that Blaine can be a total goof when he’s performing. But he isn’t always, and he certainly isn’t being one now as he slithers his way across the stage, singing:

I’m hot - sticky sweet - from my head down to my feet, yeah…

And god, the faces he’s making. At times, he’ll get this intense, fiery look of total concentration, and at other times he’ll be giving the audience these smolderingly sexy grins; these intimate and suggestive smiles that seem to say “Why-yes-I’m-having-a-fucking-amazing-time-up-here-and-would-you-care-to-join-me?”

When Blaine meets Kurt’s eyes mid-verse and very pointedly sings to him, while smirking wickedly:

Sometime, anytime – sugar me sweet - little miss innocent - sugar me, yeah, yeah…

Kurt’s pretty much done for. He’s forced to cross his legs and shift uncomfortably in his seat and hope desperately that the song will be over soon.

The audience doesn’t appear to want it to be done anytime soon, though. They’re eating up Blaine’s performance, shaking their heads and tapping their feet - and about halfway through, Kurt finds himself turning to glare at a group of girls who’d started letting out appreciative catcalls.

The worst of it comes when Blaine does this absolutely sick growl on a low note, rasping out: “c’mon, fire me up!” He kind of curls his lip a little and he closes his eyes and throws his head back and oh my god - that’s Blaine’s bedroom face. That’s his fucking bedroom face. Kurt looks around the audience nervously, because my god, it’s just so obvious to him. It feels indescribably strange to see Blaine making this face out in the open - in broad daylight - up on a stage where all eyes are on him. Kurt almost wants to look away but then Blaine spins around and lunges forward suddenly until he’s down on his knees and – yeah. Never mind.

Kurt’s eyes aren’t going anywhere.



One week earlier


“And I was so freaked out – I felt like I was going to throw up the whole time. But Quinn gave me these ginger tablets she used to take when she was having morning sickness and Rachel did these vocal exercises with me that are supposed to improve your range and”-

“Wait, wait, wait,” interrupts Blaine, sitting up on the bed and staring curiously at Kurt, who had been animatedly pacing the floor of Blaine’s bedroom. “This is the mall performance you’re talking about, right?”


“You got that nervous about a mall performance?”

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “I told you not to judge me for that.”

“Yeah, but then you said I could,” points out Blaine. Kurt glares at him and Blaine holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m kidding, okay? And I swear I’m not judging, Kurt – I’m just surprised. You are seriously so good. You’re one of the best singers I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe you doubt your ability.”

“I don’t doubt my ability,” insists Kurt, blushing a little at Blaine’s praise. “Being nervous has nothing to do with whether or not I’m good. Some of the greatest performers in the world get terrible stage fright, Blaine. Are you really going to tell me you never get anxious before you sing?”

Blaine shrugs. “No. No, not for a long time.”

Kurt stops his pacing and joins Blaine on the bed, curling himself closely around his boyfriend’s body. “Fine, so you’re a freak of nature. New topic.”

“Hey,” protests Blaine, laughing a little. “I can’t judge you, but you get to judge me?”

“Yes. Exactly that,” agrees Kurt, tipping his face down to kiss Blaine’s jawline. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

“Well, how about if I… oh, that feels good,” sighs Blaine as Kurt snakes himself down further to kiss Blaine’s throat. “How about if I give you a few pointers? Like, I could show you my strategies for not being nervous?”

Kurt stops kissing Blaine and looks up at him curiously. “You’ll show me your strategies?”

Blaine nods. “Yeah. I could... play the piano for you. Or the violin. Or the guitar”-

Kurt throws an arm wide over Blaine’s torso. “Pick something that you can do without us having to leave the bed.”

And Blaine freezes suddenly, tensing beneath him.

Kurt raises his head. “What? What’d I say”-

Blaine breathes out; a long, slow, shivering exhalation. “I – nothing. It’s just. When you said that. The first thing I thought of”-

Kurt honestly has no idea what he’s talking about. “What? Singing?”

Blaine laughs softly. “Well, sure, I can do that. But that’s, um, not exactly where my mind went.”

Not exactly where - ? What on earth is Blaine talking abo-

Kurt sits up suddenly. “Oh,” he says, eyes flying open. “Oh. You mean – oh my god, you meant like”-

“Well,” says Blaine slowly, carefully. “It… would definitely count as me giving you a show.”

There are a few seconds where Kurt seems to have forgotten how to breathe properly.

It’s not like the idea’s totally crazy. They’re still new at this; they’re still eagerly cataloguing the taste and touch of one another’s bodies – and the thing that Blaine is suggesting? Well, it’s something they’ve done to each other several times by now. But somehow it seems different and – hotter? More intimate, maybe? – to think of Blaine doing it to himself. For Kurt.

“S-seriously?” Kurt stammers.

Blaine shrugs, a gentle lift of his shoulder against Kurt’s hip. “Yeah, I – yeah. If you want. I mean, I want to. If you want me to.”

The inelegance of that reply makes Kurt think that perhaps Blaine is more nervous than he’s letting on, but his voice sounds remarkably even.

“I…” Kurt searches for a reason, any reason, that they shouldn’t do this and - although it could just be that all the blood in his brain has suddenly rushed to his groin - he can’t seem to find one. “O-okay,” he says finally. “Yeah.” He swallows. “Yes. What do you want me to”-

Blaine sits up, then, surging forward until his mouth is on Kurt’s. He kisses him deeply but quickly – just a few dizzyingly glorious seconds of shared breath – before drawing back, placing both his hands on Kurt’s hips and guiding him firmly toward the edge of the bed.

“Nothing,” he says. “You don’t have to do anything. Just - sit back and enjoy.”

Kurt opens his mouth to say something – he honestly has no idea what – when Blaine leans back on the bed, his head resting on two pillows, and he starts sliding a hand underneath his shirt and trailing his fingers up, ghosting them across his abdomen and then higher, where Kurt can’t see.

His eyes stay locked on Kurt’s the whole time.

“The first thing I do,” says Blaine, breathing a little harshly, “is get into costume. But – I guess in this case…” And he takes the other hand, the hand not underneath his shirt, and starts tugging upward on the material.

Kurt watches, transfixed and possibly tenser than he’s ever been in his life, as Blaine lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it over the side of the bed, and then starts reaching for the button on his shorts-

The loud, dragging sound of the zipper sends literal shivers up Kurt’s spine. Blaine undoes his shorts with unbearable, teasing slowness. Kurt can practically taste the metal of the zipper on his tongue; he wants to tug it downward with his teeth, breathe in Blaine’s scent. And that’s kind of a shock. Because it’s either the first time he’s thought it or the first time he’s fully let himself think it, but there it is: He wants to taste Blaine.

This new desire is in no way diminished by the sight of Blaine arching his back slightly, lifting his hips off the bed, and sliding his shorts and boxers down carefully over his semi-erect cock and then down, further, past his thighs and then past his knees. He kicks them off in Kurt’s general direction and then fuck – he’s naked. He’s just very – naked right now and that’s…

Kurt closes his eyes and lets out a quiet, shuddering breath. When he opens his eyes, his gorgeous, naked boyfriend is still lying down on the bed in front of him, with a gorgeous flush to his face and with his chest heaving and with his curls spilling across the pillow and with a dark, hungry look in his eyes, and it’s official: He’s not dreaming. Kurt doesn’t know what the hell he did to deserve this - but he’s not dreaming.

Blaine brushes his fingers gently across his cock, which starts to rapidly harden under his touch.

“So next I…” Blaine’s voice shakes slightly as he continues to touch himself teasingly. “I warm up. Just, you know, some simple exercises to – to get myself ready.”

“Right,” agrees Kurt automatically, not taking his eyes off Blaine’s groin. “That’s – important, yeah.”

“And I… I get a feel for the audience,” he says, eyes snapping up to Kurt. “I try to – get a sense of what I think they might want. And. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard this before,” he says, his breath hitching as he trails his index finger just under the head of his cock. “But I really find that it helps me be less nervous if I picture the audience naked.”

Kurt’s heart nearly stops when Blaine starts to sweep his eyes pointedly up and down Kurt’s body.

Oh my god. This is happening.

He swallows. “Would you – like a visual?” he asks, a quick, breathless question.

Blaine groans. “Fuck, yes,” he hisses. “Please, Kurt.”

Kurt might normally be more nervous about this, but Blaine’s just so obviously turned on by the thought that it erases any doubts he might have. And Kurt himself is aroused to the point of absurdity; every touch of fabric sliding over his skin as he drags his vest, his shirt, his pants, and his fucking socks off seems to put him further and further toward the edge.

“Oh – god - fuck, Kurt, you have no idea how hot you look right now. You just – god,” moans Blaine, staring up at Kurt with wide, lust-darkened eyes. Emboldened, Kurt kneels up and asks steadily:

“Okay. So now what do you do?”

Blaine finally takes his cock in his hand with a firm, sure grip and begins slowly stroking himself. “Uhh…” he groans. “Well,” he says, panting a little as he builds up a rhythm, “I try to forget about everything. I try to just – let it all go and just – focus on how it feels. How… excited I am and how… happy I am to be performing. How – how much I love doing what I’m doing.”

Blaine spreads his legs a little and Kurt nearly has a heart attack.

“And I try to – get the audience worked up,” he says, stroking faster, his spit-slicked palm rubbing faster up and down his straining erection. “How – how am I doing on that front?” he asks breathlessly.

Kurt just can’t even answer that. His boyfriend is a born performer, he really is. The sight of Blaine lying on his bed and touching himself is hotter than any wet dream or fantasy he could conjure up. Blaine is gorgeous and confident and (as always) very skilled at what he’s doing and god, the only thing – the only thing – that could make this better is if-

“Blaine,” says Kurt darkly, because he just can’t hold back anymore; he’s tried and he just can’t.

“Yea-ah?” says Blaine, his voice cracking a little at the end.

“How,” he asks, throat dry, nerves shot to hell, “do you feel… about… audience participation?”

Blaine lets out a loud groan as he continues to pump his fist up and down, his hips jerking upward in tiny thrusts. “Really, really good,” he says fervently. “Crowd involvement is - just so important. It builds up a relationship between  – fuck!” he hisses. “Oh my god – Kurt – fuck!”

Because Kurt had meant it when he’d said he couldn’t hold back. And as Blaine had continued to fist his cock, eyes shut tightly, Kurt had knelt down between Blaine’s spread legs, eased them even further apart, and started tentatively tonguing the ridged skin of Blaine’s balls.

It’s the first time Kurt has ever put his mouth anywhere close to that area. But he has to know what Blaine tastes like and fuck - it’s just so much hotter than he could have imagined.

Blaine whimpers and shudders and moans and bucks his hips and swears – but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. Kurt had known that from the start, because no matter what happens, you don’t stop in the middle of a performance.

He keeps jerking off, even as Kurt continues to drag his tongue in slow, wet circles along Blaine’s balls, even as he nips teasingly at the skin of Blaine’s inner thighs, even as he licks firm stripes up the smooth skin of Blaine’s perineum – an action which makes Blaine arch his back off the bed and let out a string of words so vulgar Kurt finds himself at once shocked and vaguely impressed.

Blaine keeps jerking himself off even as Kurt presses tiny kitten licks at his perineum and then moves back up to his balls, even as he begins tracing out words with his tongue, first Blaine and then Kurt and then just I love you, I love you, I love you-

Blaine moans loudly all of a sudden – Kurt knows he has to be close – but no, Blaine is pulling away from him. And then Blaine is sitting up, gripping Kurt’s shoulders tightly, and dragging Kurt toward him; crashing their mouths together hungrily, wildly.

Kurt gasps into the kiss, surging forward against Blaine, wrapping himself around him, a jolt of electricity hitting him as Blaine’s cock rubs up against his, oh god…

“Wait,” pants Kurt, “I – I thought you were showing me”-

“I am tired”- says Blaine darkly, chest heaving- “of this being all about me. So I changed my mind. I want to do a duet. With Kurt.”

And then he yanks Kurt into his arms again, kissing him until he’s dizzy and breathless and so turned on that he might die. They’re both kneeling, limbs at slightly awkward angles, and eventually one of them overbalances, sending them both toppling sideways onto the mattress, although neither of them can be bothered to care.

“Oh, god, Kurt”- groans Blaine loudly. “Can you – will you - ?”

“Anything,” whines Kurt. “Fuck, Blaine, just – god, please, anything. Anything.”

Fuck,” swears Blaine loudly. “Can you – okay - can you - on your hands and knees?”

Kurt is not proud of the surge of arousal that floods through him at that request. But he’s not exactly ashamed of it, either. So he does it, twisting his hips away from Blaine and pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, his cock harder than it’s ever been in his life and breathing so loudly that he’s shocked the neighbors haven’t called to complain.

And - “Oh my god, Kurt,” says Blaine. “Kurt, you look – oh my god.” And then Kurt feels Blaine kneeling behind him and before he even knows what’s happening, Blaine has his right hand wrapped firmly around Kurt’s cock and he’s started grinding his erection against him, rutting his hips against Kurt’s ass.

Oh. Fuck-

His brain absolutely short-circuits. It’s too much – the physical sensation of Blaine stroking his hand deftly along his aching cock, and the shudders that spread through him each time Blaine thrusts against him and the knowledge that this is probably about as close as you can get to having sex without actually having sex.

It’s all over in about thirty seconds. Blaine’s thrusts speed up and grow more and more erratic, and he hears him cry out, “Kurt – Kurt”- right before feels a flood of warm liquid dripping down the crease of his ass, some of which drips down to his thighs and fuck, that’s it

Kurt feels his own thighs start shaking and then he feels a familiar, twitching pulse low in his balls and then he starts coming and coming in white-hot spurts – and soon neither his legs nor arms are willing to hold him up any longer and he collapses to the mattress with a shuddering groan, Blaine sprawled weakly on top of him.

It’s a good sixty seconds before there’s any other sound in the room except extremely loud breathing.

Blaine is the first to speak, rolling carefully off Kurt, and asking: “So. Um. What did you think?”

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Of your performance?”


Kurt turns over onto his side and makes a semi-disgusted face. “Well,” he says, squirming uncomfortably, “I’m pretty sure you forgot to notify the first few rows of your audience that they’ll get wet.”

Blaine laughs. “Yeah. I’ll, uh… I’ll remember next time I’m onstage. Well, other than that, what did you think? Do I hear a call for an encore?”

Kurt seeks out Blaine’s hand with his own and turns his head to face his lover.

“You move me,” he says. “You really do.”


Present Day


Kurt absolutely does not understand how “Pour Song Sugar on Me,” which is maybe a four-minute song, seems to be dragging on forever and ever.

It’s not that Kurt’s not enjoying the performance, either. Honestly, the problem kind of is that Kurt’s enjoying the performance. In fact, he can’t wait for Blaine to be done performing so that he can show him how much he enjoyed the performance.

But then finally, blessedly, the song ends and Blaine bows before an adoring, delighted, whole-heartedly clapping crowd.

Kurt starts to stand up, but then-

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says the announcer’s voice, “as a special treat, Blaine Anderson will be doing an encore performance for us, leading the Warblers in the popular Kings of Leon’s song, ‘Sex on Fire!’”

Blaine crouches down in a low, dramatic pose and gives the audience a look that makes Kurt’s eyes roll up in the back of his head.

But there’s nothing to be done. Kurt grits his teeth, crosses his legs again, locks his eyes onto his gorgeous boyfriend, sits back…

…and enjoys the show.




May. 30th, 2011 11:35 am (UTC)
You win at everything!
May. 30th, 2011 12:11 pm (UTC)

Thank you! :)



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