Lift your head up high. And scream out to the world! I know I am someone! And let the truth unfurl. No one can hurt you now. Because you know what’s true.
( mssg » killer 🍑 🍑 🍆 | sent) Just come out when you’re ready Blaine. ( mssg » killer 🍑 🍑 🍆 | sent) No rush. I know how hard it can be to get dressed when you were naked beforehand. ( mssg » killer 🍑 🍑 🍆 | sent) I mean, what? Yeah no I totally believe that you were wearing PJs before.
( mssg » sebastian | sent ) I wasn’t naked! ( mssg » sebastian | sent ) Yeah! Sure. Uh huh! ( mssg » sebastian | sent ) I’m on my way!
Blaine finishes the last touches on curls that barely wanted to be contained since he’d was in bed for nearly an hour before Sebastian’s arrival. Stray curls ran along his forehead, threatened to drop free from where he tried to slick them back with a bit of water to no real avail. Sebastian refused to come inside. He didn’t want him waiting any longer than he was already. A pair of red boat shoes are put on with a few hops between to speed things up. His Dalton hoodie goes over his head and grey v-neck next. Further shaking his hair free but this time unnoticed as he shoves his wallet into the pocket of his jeans.
Outdoor sconces light up the large Westerville Estate with all it’s windows dark except the amber glow of the desk lamp he left on in an upstairs window of the house
that seems mutely still and too pristine to be lived in. A stark contrast the projection of warmth and sunshine that the boy who lives inside of it exudes daily. Mustard yellow, crimson and brown plaid blanket in hand from a pit stop in the living room where the last of a fire was burning down–Blaine closes the front doors and jogs down the stairs waving as he approaches the car.
His free hand pulls open the door and Blaine ducks inside.
An ear to ear–even if it’s a lil bit sleepy–cheeky grin greets his visitor. “I have to ask,” his gaze darts in a mystified glance over Sebastian’s eyes, “Not that I mind. But. What on Earth made you want to come here this late?”
He snorts and shakes his head a little. There’s no backing down from a challenge, it’s a matter of pride. Stupid, stupid pride that he himself doesn’t recommend letting dictate choices but hey, he’s a Gallagher. “I kinda hate your friends too.” Ian notes as his eyes follow the largest spider he’s ever seen– this had better be worth it. Still, he’s smelled worse things, and chances of being bitten by anything just for being down there were pretty low. “If I get some crawling thing on me I’m punching someone in the face when we’re out of here, just a heads up.”
“Normally? I’m completely against violence,” unless it’s properly organized and follows a set of strict rules as to who gets hurt and how much but he leaves that out, “but this time I might make an exception and live vicariously through you. If that happens. Which it better not. To either one of his.” Long fingers twitch and curl into themselves. He’s fidgeting and doesn’t care if Ian notices. There’s no other way to work his nerves out and if he keeps them contained? They’d lose this bet and it’d be his fault. “All we have to do is find some supposedly stashed note in this mess to prove that we were here.” It was no fair that the other Warblers got to come down here during the day time to hide the letter. If there was one and the group of boys weren’t pulling both their legs. Should that be the case? Ian might get a request to swing two punches. Not just one.
( mssg » sebastian | sent ) Sebastian?? You’re outside? Seriously? ( mssg » sebastian | sent ) Holy wow. You are. I see you. Hey! ( mssg » sebastian | sent ) Very funny! I’m getting dressed. Give me a few minutes. You can come inside and sit down if you want. I’m grabbing a sweater and putting real pants on. ( mssg » sebastian | sent ) By that–I mean NOT pajamas! Not that I was–! Er. I’ll be right down.
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.”
You are beautiful in your own strange way and not everyone knows what to make of it. Find someone who can see stars in your darkness and love you in all places like the moon ambivalent between the earth and the sun. Someone who won’t pick and choose the parts of you to love but love you whole.
Remy stilled at that whispered words as his head turned back to stare over at the boy as he left. A little smile on his face as he ducked his head. A compliment like that was the way to Remy’s heart. and it was’nt quite the compliment he’d been expecting from the other. Remy brushed any thoughts of how Blaine would look under the spray of his shower, those broad shoulders or his perfect ass and instead tried to focused on his art, leaning over the counter as he dipped his brush into the paint and started to draw it along the canvas. The pink haired boy dropped the brush to fix his long hair as the other walked out of the shower, his eyebrow arched as he noticed those old sweatpants. He’d seen his brother wear them enough times to know what they were but he did’nt say anything about them. He was silent as he watched Blaine admiring his art, his own eyes soaking in the others strong features and the way he looked with wet hair. “A better grade? Now I know you’re flattering me. Besides, art can’t be graded. That’s just some school bullshit. Art is…something that makes you feel.” He said lightly as he tapped the end of the paint brush against the canvas. “You’re not bothering me…” He said lightly as he pressed his lips together. “In fact…how about you model for me? You can lay on the couch…And I’ll draw you?” He said as he rounded the table. “You can even take off your shirt for me.” He teased as a hand reached out to pluck at the others shirt. “You can inspire some art.”
“Unfortunately? That school bullcrap is something I still have to go through the ringer for while paying a hefty price to be thoroughly wrung,” Blaine laughed and hoisted his shoulders in a shrug. “Crappy how that works out, huh? You pay them big bucks to make you wonder what the heck you’re doing with your life and how much of a stamina you can have against torture.” He was a performer and a musician and a writer. A painter? Not so much. Looking down at what he held in his arms–Blaine gave it another squeeze and glanced back up with a relieved smile when Remy let him know he wasn’t annoying him. The pillow was getting warmer against his chest and the threadbare shirt that he loved even though it hung a little loose on his frame was comforting and perfect. One of the reasons why being here always felt so good. Remy being here was new though. Maybe the familiarity of the face watching him made this feel easier. Or Remy was naturally easy to be near. Either way? He liked the company. Blaine double blinked and his lips parted like he was about to ask if Remy was serious. Model for him? Stunned–the pillow hit the floor and he didn’t bend to pick it up as the pink haired painter came closer. He was fresh out of a shower, not anywhere near put together and Remy wanted him to pose? “I..,” he flushed a few shades of pink. Make that pose topless–okay then. “I’m not sure what kind of art I can inspire wearing your brother’s old lounge pants and shower hair–,” he felt his stomach swirl with the pluck to his shirt. Was it weird that it didn’t feel bad? Quite..the opposite. “I don’t know. You might just end up wishing you stuck to painting once this–,” his eyes darted up to indicate his hair, “starts becoming a tangled, curly mess?”
Eyes glance down at Blaine’s boat shoe nudging at his elbow and it gets a light smirk out of him before intrigued green hues are back up on Blaine to meet him with a playful look in his eyes. Sebastian completely had NO idea how to help himself from saying things that made Blaine tongue tied. In a sense, knowing he had the ability to do so just put a certain kind of joy and unsaid cocky knowledge into him. Sure, Kurt had him as a boyfriend but this way Sebastian knew he had a special unique ability to get that blush and head duck from Blaine so easily. Not to be a pointer out of the obvious, but he seemed to be able to do it pretty skillfully. On top of all of that? Bantering was just fun all the time. ❝Sounds good to me, killer. Run the plans by him – or don’t – and then we’ll get out of here.❞ Sebastian stands to his feet to lean back against the back of the chair just how Blaine is, now standing next to him. Eyes look around the theater and he furrows a brow. ❝You know, I HAVE to wonder how you make the change from Dalton to public school so quick. I’d have to be dragged here. I know ‘your heart is here now’ and all and maybe that’s why your immune to the bad taste of this place, but you really got some kick ass adapting skills.❞
“I’ll send him a text. I don’t think he’s going to enjoy the idea that you snuck into the school to see me,” Blaine planned on leaving that part out. Just that Sebastian was here and they were going to meet was enough. It’s not that he wanted secrets between him and his boyfriend. But there was no way in hell Kurt was going to be happy that Sebastian was on the New Directions turf and if it got out that Blaine was spending time in the auditorium with their competition from the school that he only just transferred from? Yeah. They already called him Blaine Warbler. He didn’t need to erase the trust he’s earned and go back to being suspected of riding the fence of alliances. Looking from Sebastian to the body of the theatre–Blaine shrugged at his friend’s observation as he half-laughed at the way Sebastian expressed his distaste with McKinley again.
“It’s really not that bad, Sebastian. I’d take the credit if I earned it but..once you get used to it? It’s okay. I mean it’s not D…,” he stops himself right there. No reason to continue what was better left unsaid. “I know it’s not your cup of tea but it’s mine. Speaking of which? Ready to go. C’mon,” their shoulders touched and Blaine was off his leaning position heading through the row of seats to the aisle. “Pitchforks, remember? Need to avoid those.”
pianokeysandbowties back up 