Glee A Thing I Can't Control

**Media:** Fic  
><strong>Type: <strong>One-shot**  
>Title:<strong> A Thing I Can't Control  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 4,482  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Fluff, Romance  
><strong>Pairings: <strong>Kurt/Blaine (who else? This is me!)  
><strong>Warning:<strong> Implication of male/male sexually explicit acts. A whole lotta innuendo. Self pleasure.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own anything in relation to Glee, or Royksopp for that matter.

**Summary:**A couple of days after Kurt and Blaine's first kiss, they start passing increasingly suggestive notes to each other in between classes and both struggle to keep it together as their imaginations run away with the innuendos...

* * *

><p>It only took a second, but the distinctive flash of navy, grey and red passing the classroom door was enough. To an untrained eye, the figure may not have looked that different to the other boys moving quickly down the hallway, but the telltale hair, motion and build was distinctive to Kurt.<p>

And that second he flashed by was enough to distract Kurt. Actually, almost anything distracted him these days. Well, that wasn't true either - one thing in particular distracted him: _Blaine_.

And _everything_ reminded him of Blaine.

The very thought of the name sent a warm flush through his body, his blood pressure dropping as giddyness took over. Kurt had had crushes before, and they'd always engendered a certain obsessive desire... dreamy gazes and distractedness...

But nothing like this.

Nothing else had ever made Kurt's lungs seem empty and full at the same time; crushed inwards and pressing against his ribs with the ache of his feelings; breathless and winded as he remembered and catalogued every look, feel and touch they'd shared so far.

Just two days ago, Blaine had kissed him. He'd prefaced the kiss with a speech - he was so fond of speeches - but then there had been a "moment", to steal and re-appropriate the phrase, and now all bets were off. Kurt's eyes had been opened, his ears unblocked, the micro-senses on his fingertips awakened to their full potential. Everything was in colour now - harsh, beautiful and frightening colour that threatened to envelope him with pounding in his ears, heart in his throat, the shiver than ran throughout.

He and Blaine had sat making out for what seemed like forever. In between kisses they had "practiced" in the more literal sense of the word, and then more kissing had ensued - they hadn't been able to stop themselves - until finally dusk had well and truly fallen outside and responsibility had taken over.

Responsibility.

Kurt was a responsible student. A responsible teenager. And he was going to sit in class, pay attention, participate as appropriate, and generally _function_ like a normal person.

He wouldn't think of Blaine.

He wouldn't think of the feeling of Blaine's warm lips against his. Blaine's hot tongue sliding past his lips into his mouth with such suggestive power that the breath was winded out of him, the black spots spitting in front of his eyes as his vision failed; his senses only able to concentrate on the sensations washing over him and - oh my - the feel of Blaine's hand squeezing against his waist through his clothes making him wish Blaine's hand was squeezing somewhere else.

Kurt shifted in his seat, trying to focus even though yet again he seemed to have lost all the oxygen from his lungs again.

He forced himself to look straight ahead to the whiteboard. He breathed with slow deliberation in an attempt to concentrate on the words of their aptly named math teacher, Mrs Matt, who was writing out a particularly long equation, her scratchy handwriting barely decipherable as usual.

Blaine's handwriting was pretty much indecipherable as well, but he wrote much nicer things than math equations. He wrote little notes to pass between them as they crossed in the halls between classes. They were always funny, cute observations from his day. And the glint in his eye as he handed the notes over never failed to send a thrill through Kurt's body. What pearl was contained in those messy words this time? Sometimes it was song lyrics. Sometimes quotes from literature he was studying.

Recently, however, since that "moment", they had taken a different turn.

They weren't dirty, but they were... _intoxicating_. Just that morning it had been a question, a verse, or something. Whatever it was, it had sent Kurt insane and he had yet to recover:

_What have you done to me?  
><em>_This kind of chemistry  
><em>_Emotions running over me_

He could very well ask Blaine the same question. He'd heard the expression "love drunk" before and was acutely aware that he had been in such a way for some days and seemed to have no signs of returning back to earth. He never wanted to. The feeling was so giddying he wanted to stay this way forever.

The 'x's and 'y's on the whiteboard joined together and Kurt gave up on making sense of them, he glanced down at the now-flimsy piece of paper with the words on then, and leant back in his chair. He closed his eyes, smiling to himself as the harsh lights of the room were replaced by the image of Blaine's soft features, his lips, cheeks, nose, eyebrows... and that hair. So frustratingly contained, and yet endearingly soft; just begging to have his hands entwined within.

He looked back at the words written by Blaine that day. "Emotions running over me" was more than apt. There was a stampede running over him and he couldn't get up. His every thought of Blaine caused a surge of electricity and yet he was blissfully paralysed by it. He turned the piece of paper over and wrote his own message to pass to Blaine the next time he saw him:

_This electricity  
>Injected into me<br>__Emotions running over me_

He let the emotions run over him, closed his eyes and succumbed to them. It seemed no matter where he looked nowadays, the only image the got through to his eyes was Blaine's. Right now, in defiance of his habitual attentiveness and teenage responsibility, he ignored the math class and let Blaine's image take over. The thought of seeing Blaine after class just made the vision stronger in his mind - Blaine's smiling, adoring face burned on the insides of his eyelids, causing them to flutter, but he kept them shut to prolong the image.

And suddenly the image was no longer static, the image was moving as Kurt imagined Blaine closing in on him, climbing over the desk and settling on his lap, his weight torturing Kurt as it presses into him and writhes against him in time with the flutter of his hands reaching inside Kurt's blazer, then his shirt, then around the collar of his shirt, pulling the tie apart and unbuttoning the top button to release some of the heat building up inside Kurt's chest.

He imagined Blaine's lips touching the patch of soft skin under his left ear, and his eyes snapped open with the shock of the sensation.

Yeah. Electricity had been the right word.

He gulped in more air than he was ready to take in, and started coughing. Mrs Matt stopped her monologue and turned towards Kurt, her eyebrow raised as he flushed crimson and leaned forward over the desk. Mrs Matt cleared her throat and pursed her lips at him, clearly not amused. She slowly turned back to the whiteboard as the other students in the room glanced at Kurt, smirking.

Kurt bowed his head, cradling it in his hands and feeling how hot his face was against the cool, \skin of his palms. He kept that position for the rest of the class, glaring at the book in front of him with determination, willing his mind to operate in anything other than "Blaine-mode" for at least a couple of minutes. While he managed to keep his feelings in check for the rest of the class, he was pretty sure the effort of not thinking about Blaine meant that he hadn't been able to take in any of the math lesson either.

* * *

><p>At the beginning of lunch, Kurt passed the note back to Blaine, with his added words. They were in a large group of people walking down the hall, which suited Kurt because he wanted to see how Blaine reacted to his letter, but more than that he wanted to see if it made Blaine as crazy and frustrated as Blaine's earlier message had made him; and he wanted it to make Blaine squirm.<p>

The fact that Blaine took the note, read it, and then walked into a wall? Yeah it had the desired effect. Kurt smiled to himself behind the easy laugh he shared with the other boys as they walked into the Dalton cafeteria.

Collecting their food, Kurt remarked again that although the clothes and classes may be more fancy at Dalton, cafeteria food was still cafeteria food. He'd hoped for a decent espresso coffee machine at least given the school fees, but no dice.

He moved with the group of six or so that included Blaine and they all found seats at a table by the large bay windows. Kurt wasn't sitting next to Blaine, but he didn't mind. He wouldn't be sure what to do if they were sitting together, truth be known. He didn't know how he was meant to act now they were "together". Were they meant to be all over each other like Mike and Tina? Were they meant to be completely annoying and whiny like Rachel and Finn always were when they were together? Was he meant to be diva scary like Quinn was when she was with Finn?

It occurred to Kurt that they should just be them – Kurt and Blaine – like they had been before they kissed. But that was easier said than done. Now was not then. Now he knew the taste of those perfect, soft lips. Now he knew the intoxicating smell of Blaine – not his cologne or hair gel, but just HIM. There was no way to describe it but it did things. Good things, but inappropriate things.

The conversation flowed around and through him, discussing the upcoming regionals competition, as they waded through the spaghetti that had been served up to them. He was contributing as appropriate – smiling, nodding, laughing, adding a witty quip here and there – but his eyes never strayed from their target for long.

Blaine was diagonally across from him. Close enough to tempt; but far enough away that the temptation to reach out and touch him was thwarted by a couple of Dalton boys and a less-than-hygienic table. Their eyes met at least once a minute, and every time Kurt's pulse quickened at the sparkle in Blaine's eye. He knew that he caused the sparkle, and hoped the smile he returned showed how mutual the feeling was.

It was like they'd found a whole new game now that they were going out. They were both now part of a secret. Not literally of course – everyone had figured out they were together roughly 10 seconds into the next school day after their first kiss. But they had a secret no-one could know – exactly how they felt for each other. Kurt knew right then and there that no-one in the world felt what he felt for Blaine. And he hoped that he was interpreting Blaine's body language (and actions when they were alone) to mean that no-one in the world felt what Blaine felt for him. In both cases, it felt _good_ and the knowledge of this feeling was the secret they shared while in public, while stealing glances across the cafeteria table, while casually brushing past each other in the halls, and while passing cryptic and erotic notes to each other.

Towards the end of lunch, Kurt saw Blaine reach into his bag for a pen. He took a sharp but silent intake of breath and licked his lips to moisten his suddenly-dry mouth. The conversation had turned to the latest American Idol contestants (general agreement that Blaine would wipe the floor with all of them given the chance), but Blaine was suddenly not the centre of the conversation, his head bent down slightly as he scribbled on a piece of paper. The others kept chatting, nudging Blaine and carrying on about his hypothetical American Idol chances, but he just waved his free hand at them, laughing them off and continuing his composition.

Kurt watched the scene with anticipation, growing more intrigued and more turned on with every stroke of Blaine's pen and every effort he was making to tune out the other boys at the table. Blaine didn't have neat writing, but there was a certain flourish to his style of writing that gave the taller letters arcing loops and whorls. Kurt loved those whorls and he could hardly wait to see what they would tell him at the end of lunch.

As the group dispersed and headed to their respective classes – Spanish for Kurt; French for Blaine – the two of them fell in step in the hall. Just being closer had all of Kurt's senses heightened and he felt taller as they walked side by side. He was walking, openly and confidently, down a school corridor with his BOYFRIEND. Every moment like this since their first kiss had helped Kurt see the brilliance of the world, and his life. He didn't take a moment for granted but beamed at the world, casting a glow wherever he went.

Too soon, they arrived at Blaine's class and waved coyly at each other. Kurt hesitated, almost afraid that the note wouldn't be forthcoming. Just as he was shrinking into himself a little with disappointment, Blaine's hand thrust backward through the classroom door and the semi-scrunched piece of paper made it into Kurt's hand. He grinned and caught Blaine's eye. Blaine paused, chewing his lip, obviously wanting to see Kurt's reaction. When Kurt read the note, altogether failing to stifle a small whine and giggle, Blaine nodded with satisfaction, flashed another winning toothy grin, and disappeared into the room.

Kurt felt someone bump into him, apologise immediately, and move on. He didn't look up, but the disturbance had been enough for him to remember that he had a class to be at. Still, he remained completely still in the hall another 30 seconds or so, drinking in Blaine's latest note. It was messy, with words crossed out and replaced with others here and there where Blaine had obviously fought to find the right turn of phrase:

_You've got a hold on me  
><em>_Your ingenuity  
><em>_Seems to be driving me down on my knees_

The first line ran across Kurt's mind, over and over as he finally remembered to put one foot in front of the other towards class.

* * *

><p>As he slid into his seat in the Spanish class, and settled in for another 45 minutes of not paying particular attention, his eyes fixated more and more on the last part of Blaine's latest verse. More and more his mind went tantalisingly visual.<p>

The practicalities of his intense attraction and arousal at the mere thought of Blaine still scared Kurt a bit. Theoretical was becoming real very quickly, and it was alarming. At the same time, it felt more natural than anything in the world. He wanted to be sitting on a chair like the one he was in right now (but without the desk in front of it) and to have Blaine kiss him, before trailing kisses down his chest, resting his hands on Kurt's knees for a moment, licking the quivering skin on his stomach just above his pants before removing them with fluid ease. Then Blaine would move his mouth over…

Kurt's train of thought was suddenly interrupted by an angry torrent of Spanish from his teacher – who was in no way as friendly as Mr Schue over at McKinley.

Kurt straightened in his chair, shaking himself and made a conscious effort to close his mouth and open his eyes fully – the bright light hitting his dilated pupils like the high beams of an oncoming truck. Again his classmates were all looking at him. Again the teacher had paused and was tapping their foot impatiently, arms crossed while scowling at him.

Kurt glanced at the board to see what they were working on, sighing as he saw the irregular verbs conjugated in various tenses. The teacher – Mr Gonzalez – repeated his question to Kurt, and Kurt responded correctly with a smile – the kind of smile that would just infuriate Mr Gonzalez more. It did, and he returned to the blackboard, torrents of Spanish now safely directed at students he could more easily catch out.

Kurt glanced at the clock on the wall and realised that if he was going to have a phrase to pass back to Blaine as they walked into Warbler practice, he'd have to think of something sooner rather than later. Smiling quietly, he realised that the best way to come up with something was to get back into the reverie of Blaine mode.

He plastered an earnest and attentive look on his eyes, and let his mind wander to other things. Things that he felt free to be able to think about; things he wasn't afraid to feel; things that no longer made him feel like he might be going to hell.

The idea that anything so wonderful, beautiful and sexy as being with Blaine could be "the embodiment of sin", or whatever that crackpot Tea Party candidate had said on TV recently, was so absurd that it made Kurt smile and even caused him to squirm slightly as he though of doing more sinful things to Blaine. All this reverie was going to have to lead to a release at some point; he knew. He just had to get through the school day, and that would only get more difficult in Glee practice where the object of all these thoughts would be there. With him. Sitting next to him. Singing and dancing with and in front of him.

Kurt wrote without even thinking or looking at the piece of paper, which was starting look like one of those folding paper fortune tellers he used to make in grade school, Kurt wrote his next message:

_Embodiment of sin, has seen a way within  
><em>_Sensations seem to multiply  
><em>_They're building up inside_

He stared at the words, breathing shallower and shallower breaths, until the bell rang and he bolted towards Warbler practice to try to give the note to Blaine beforehand.

* * *

><p>Kurt was impressed with how nonchalantly he had managed to pass the note to Blaine as the Warbler soloist had flumped down next to him on the chesterfield couch. It seems Blaine had had a long afternoon because he almost didn't raise his head to read the note. When he did, it seemed to take a couple of seconds extra for the words to sink in.<p>

It was clear enough when they had. The movement wasn't sudden, but as soon as Blaine had read and understood those words he sat up straighter and deliberately moved his hands over his hair to smooth it back, then placed them on his knees as if he didn't know what to do with them, before finally crossing his legs, letting out a deep breath and clasping his hands together in an attempt to keep it together.

Kurt had watched the show with interest and was now waiting for Blaine to meet his eye. He did so, slowly, and look of desire in his eyes confirmed to Kurt that he'd had the desired effect. He smiled goofily at Blaine – inwardly hoping the other warblers didn't notice his expression – before raising his hand to smooth his own hair back, casually brushing his elbow against Blaine's side as he did so, and turning his attention to the Council.

Practice that night was concentrating on choreography for Pink song they were to perform at Regionals. This meant that for once they moved the practice to the school's auditorium. Blaine was insistent that the Warblers needed to move more in their performances if they were going to improve on their recent outing at Regionals, and was practicing some break-out moves and twirls with Jeff and Thad.

Kurt stood by the side of the stage as Blaine and a couple of the boys workshopped and practised these sequences. He was mesmerised by Blaine's movement. He wasn't a dancer like Mike Chang, but the way he moved had the fluidity of someone comfortable in their own skin; in control of their expression through movement and confident in themselves.

Watching Blaine move and turn in time with the music, Kurt sank sideways into the wall. Each movement was revealing glimpses of Blaine's white shirt under his Dalton Blazer. The moves weren't elaborate, but they were elegant. And with every swish of that blazer, and squeak of the shoes on the stage floor, Kurt felt it getting harder to breath and hotter as his neck and face flushed. He wanted all the other Warblers to be somewhere else. He wanted Blaine to move and twirl around him; with him; singing to him. He wanted Blaine to move around him, twirling closer until Kurt could touch him, hold onto him, and caress him, reaching under the blazer, clasping him through his shirt, and then tugging to gain access to the hot skin under the shirt.

Suddenly Kurt realised that Blaine wasn't twirling anymore. Neither were Jeff and Thad. In fact the three of them had now been joined on stage by the rest of the warblers and all eyes were on Kurt, wondering why he hadn't joined them onstage for a full run through. Kurt shook off the cloud of imagination that had been fogging his brain, smiled at everyone and skipped onto the stage quickly. The rest of the practice was uneventful. The group dance moves weren't that difficult – Finn could probably manage them – but doing them in unison was definitely not easy and required a lot of practice. Blaine was able to sit out parts of it as he would be moving different in front of the group for the number. Kurt thought he saw a flash of paper in Blaine's hand as he sat in the seats.

At the end of practice, however, nothing passed from Blaine's hand to his. They hung out in the parking lot for a while before both leaving – Warbler practice nights (and especially the long ones close to major performances) were great for the extra time together, but it usually meant they had to forego coffee at the Lima Bean and/or hanging out together at Kurt's place or else Kurt wouldn't make it home in time for dinner.

Both boys knew this particular dance of goodbyes well. Neither wanted to leave and they would argue – in the very clichéd fashion – about who would get in their car first and leave.

This time, Blaine gave in to reality first. He held his hand out to Kurt's and clasped it, smiling fondly before pulling Kurt towards him, initiating a quick but electrifying kiss which included wrapping as much of his body around Kurt as possible, pushing him against the car. As soon as it had begun, however, at to Kurt's disappointment, it was over. Blaine had pulled back and was walking backwards towards his car; his eyes not leaving Kurts. His eyes were sultry, and Kurt was glad he was leaning against his car for support. He stood/leaned/balanced there while Blaine fumbled with his keys, got into his car, started the ignition, and shared a longing gaze with him before driving slowly away.

They would see each other the next day before school, but it wasn't soon enough.

Kurt let out a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding and did a little hop-jump on the spot to try to wake his senses up and bring them back to reality before driving. He didn't notice, as he got in the car, the crinkling sound of a well-worn and well-folded piece of paper that had found its way into his right blazer pocket.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until after dinner that Kurt noticed the piece of paper. As usual, he had changed out of his uniform as soon as he got home and hung it up carefully in his wardrobe. The piece of paper must have fallen out of the Blazer pocket while he was hanging it up, but he didn't see it on the floor under until he had opened his cupboard later that night to get a shirt out to iron for the next day.<p>

At the sight of the scrap, though, the room stilled around him; the familiar beginnings of arousal washing over him – he was no longer at school, and didn't need to stifle the physical reaction anymore. Forgetting about the shirt, Kurt picked up the piece of paper and moved towards his bed, closing his bedroom door as he moved.

_A universal force  
><em>_A one and only kind  
><em>_A thing I can't control  
><em>_No matter how I try_

Kurt read these words, and then all the others scrawled in every which direction on the piece of paper. He came back to the last two lines that Blaine had written during Warbler practice, and smiled in the knowledge that it wasn't just him. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get Blaine out of his head – and he didn't want to. In fact, he wanted Blaine as close to him as possible. He wanted to feel Blaine's heat next to him, his breath on his neck, his hand…

Kurt didn't move his eyes from the piece of paper as he unbuckled his belt and shifted himself back up onto the bed properly, leaning against the pillows. He let his mind go everywhere it had gone during the day, images of Blaine everywhere in his consciousness as he stroked himself slowly and softly at first, eliciting those feelings of electricity running over him. He groaned softly to the empty room, hard at the thought and imagined touch of Blaine.

The piece of paper was still beside him as he reached into his drawer, pulling some lube out and squeezing a small amount onto his palm. His breath hitched and he had to stifle a louder groan as he resumed stroking himself, now pulling more roughly each time before and grazing his thumb over the head, causing him to jolt and start with the sensation.

He thought of Blaine on his knees in front of him. Of Blaine's hot mouth being where his hand now was, and threw back his head against the pillows turning it to the side and biting in as the sensation threatened to become too much for him to hold onto. He knew it wasn't going to take much more for what was building inside to be released, but he didn't care.

He used to feel guilty about doing this, but not anymore. He needed it; wanted it; craved it. As his stomach muscles clenched and he jerked forward, gasping with the intensity of the orgasm, he knew.

Next time, he wanted this with Blaine. Next time, he wanted to make Blaine feel like this. Next time, he wanted Blaine to make him feel like this.

It was a thing he couldn't control, and he didn't want to try.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_Thanks for reading :-) The verses are from Royksopp - Circuit Breaker. I'd suggest a listen because it's one of the sexiest songs I think I've ever heard._


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