TEDDYGATE

Bored beyond limits, Blaine scrolls down his Twitter feed, searching for something interesting to look at while he stubbornly tries to ignore the ten years old son of his ex high school boyfriend soundly asleep on his three thousand dollars white leather Italian sofa.

Leo is snoring quietly, his small shoulders moving up and down with every breath he takes. Every now and then, he lets out a sigh deeper than the other, and sometimes that sigh becomes an uncertain sob that makes his whole little body shiver. He cried, before falling asleep. He probably thinks Blaine doesn’t know, but he does. He heard the little sobs and the heavy breaths he kept letting out while trying to make his crying as quiet as possible, and he even felt guilty about it, though he knows he basically has no fault for the fact that his fathers keep leaving the boy with him every time they have dinner or parties to attend while in New York.

Blaine doesn’t think Leo is an unloved child. On the contrary, he really believes Kurt and Dave shower him with love and affection, but still he’s an adopted child. He is, even though he’s been staying with them since the day he was born, he will probably never get over it, and he feels deeply betrayed and hurt when his fathers leave him with somebody else.

Especially if that somebody else is Blaine, which he hates and loathes from the very deep of his small chubby baby heart.

Blaine sighs, scrolling down the page some more. A guy he hardly remembers has just posted new photos of himself on Facebook, and thought his Twitter followers just couldn’t miss his beauty, which is probably why he decided to spam the gallery on his timeline. The Twitter preview of the photos show a well-built but kind of not really tall blond guy with clear issues on how to make expressions that won’t result ridiculous or hideous on camera.

Blaine makes a face and unfollows the guy. He’s got cute abs, but they’re not enough of a reason to keep such a douche on his feed. If he wanted his Twitter timeline to become his Facebook timeline, he would have had them connected.

Leo makes a little noise, turning on the couch. Now he’s facing Blaine, which turns to look at him to be sure he’s not going to fall and hit his face or anything worse. He’s clinging to that unbelievably huge teddy bear his father left with him a couple of hours ago. When Kurt took it out of the bag and handed it down to him, he made such a disgusted face that Blaine couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly looking at it, and he didn’t really seem in any way prone to use it in any way, but when he curled on the couch, stubbornly facing the back to not have to look at Blaine, he wanted the bear to be with him, which actually made Blaine smile tenderly.

Blaine doesn’t hate Leo, he never did. Leo is a cute, smart child, and he finds him funny, most of the time. The fact that Leo doesn’t understand that and thinks that, whenever Blaine is laughing around him, it’s because he’s laughing at him – which isn’t true – always made Blaine sad, but after all there’s nothing he can do about it, so he’s not going to lose any sleep over it.

He looks back at his Twitter feed, and spots Tay linking some YouPorn video about young, slim guys getting gangbanged in a stable or something. He’s tempted to open it and take a look, honestly, but then Leo makes another muffled sound and, sighing deeply, Blaine turns to him again. “What is the problem, kid?” he asks, frowning lightly. If he’s feeling sick, why doesn’t he just open his eyes and lets him know? He realizes the boy doesn’t want anything do to with him, but whimpering like that isn’t useful for anybody.

Leo doesn’t answer, anyway, and so Blaine is forced to stand up from his beloved ergonomic chair and sit on the couch next to his little body rolled up in a ball. “Kid?” he asks, but when he looks closer he realizes that Leo is still sleeping, and doesn’t seem to have woken up in the last half hour or something. He’s still breathing pretty slowly and deeply, and his eyes are shut closed, his long, curled eyelashes don’t even tremble for a moment.

“…alright,” he murmurs, “So what’s with the moaning? Am I hearing voices? Porn movies in my head? God, I haven’t been getting any in the last five days, that’s just unbelievable. How can I even be still alive?” Leo whimpers once more, his lips curling and then opening up in a half-annoyed, half-frustrated grimace, fidgeting nervously under his white and blue wool blanket. “How would you know, anyway… what is it even with you?” Blaine asks, frowning again as he places a hand on Leo’s tummy and strokes it lightly through the blanket, “You feeling sick?”

Leo lets out a whiny moan and swings his whole little body upwards, and that’s when Blaine notices he’s not really stroking the kid’s tummy, but the big, puffy butt of his old beloved teddy bear, around whose head Leo wrapped his arms, and to which he’s clinging desperately, his features getting more and more tense by any second.

“What’s the matter…?” Blaine asks, pulling the blanket away from Leo’s body, to see if there really is something wrong or if the kids is just moving and whining in his sleep like dogs do.

He’s kind of surprised to see one of the kid’s legs wrapped around the rounded body of the stuffed animal, so much that, at first, he’s not even able to give a meaning to what he’s looking at. Why would that leg be there in first place?

Then, Leo’s hips make the smallest movement, hitting the bear’s belly in a lazy, clumsy thrust, and a muffled moan escapes the kid’s now wet lips – he probably moistened them while Blaine wasn’t looking – and suddenly everything is incredibly and embarrassingly clear, and Blaine, much to his surprise, blushes violently, instantly taking his hand off the toy.

“Oh, no, kid,” Blaine instantly says, retrieving the blanket and throwing it on Leo, covering his whole body except for his head, and only because of a lucky coincidence, “This is so totally inappropriate, and you definitely shouldn’t be doing it. Now or ever, but especially not here with me on my very, very expensive couch. It’s, like, highly disrespectful towards me and the roof I so kindly offered you shelter under. You really should…” Leo makes another annoyed face, thrusting his hips up and whining because, without Blaine’s hand keeping the bear still and pressed against his body, he can’t grind against it as better as he did before, and Blaine stares at him, so shocked he can’t even speak for what seems like an eternity. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he exhales several seconds after, swallowing hard, “You really have got to be kidding me, boy.”

Leo whines again, lifting his other leg and wrapping that around the bear’s body too. The grip of his arms around the toy’s rounded head is ever tighter, but though he tries his best to rock his hips back and forth against the bear’s belly, he doesn’t seem to manage to satisfy himself in any way.

He lets out a liquid, whiny moan, and a little tear appears on the corner of his eye as he bites his lower lip with apparently true desperation.

Blaine blinks a couple of times, unable to breath. “I really can’t do that, kid,” he tries to decline what seems like a clear invitation coming straight from the boy’s needy body, “Like, I really can’t. I’m sure it’s a crime I could end up in jail for. No way.”

Leo whines once more, his skinny hips swinging and making the blanket fall on the ground, while the oversize hoodie he’s wearing curls on his rounded belly, showing the pale curve of his tummy as he uncomfortably pushes himself against the toy. “Stop insisting!” Blaine almost screams, covering his face with both his hands but conveniently leaving spots open between his fingers to take a peek, “I said I can’t! God almighty, stop doing that!”

But Leo doesn’t stop, and when his whining slowly starts to become a low, continuous cry, Blaine has to get a grip and face reality: the kid, for whatever reason he really doesn’t want to investigate now or ever, desperately needs to come. If he doesn’t, and he keeps crying like that, he’s probably going to wake up very soon, and if he realizes he has woken up because of that reason, and if he suspects that Blaine’s been watching the whole thing for the whole time, the few hours separating them from Kurt’s return will be hell.

Blaine definitely doesn’t want that. Between ending locked up in jail to become somebody’s Little Mary, and passing two or three hours with a crying and pouting Leo whining and making a fuss by his side, he would choose jail a hundred times, so he sighs, swallows and, eventually, gives up.

“Alright, kid, you’ve won,” he surrenders, placing a hand over the bear’s butt. At first, he doesn’t even push, but clearly the weight of the hand alone is already enough to make it more pleasant for Leo, whose face instantly lightens up as his hips starts to thrust a little faster. “…this is unbelievable,” he whispers, biting at his lower lip, his eyes glued to the kid as he finds himself mesmerized by his movements, “There must be something wrong inside my head.”

He doesn’t have the time to investigate the matter further, though, because after a while the weight of his hand alone is not enough anymore to keep up with Leo’s mounting excitement, and he’s forced to push the bear’s body down against Leo’s when he hears him let out a louder, almost reproachful moan. “Alright, alright!” he scoffs, annoyed by Leo’s neediness, “God, what a little spoiled child you are.”

He can swear to see a little smirk flick over Leo’s curled and partly open lips, at his words, but then it’s probably just a relieved smile for being finally able to get off. Blaine knows it, he felt the same smile bloom over his own lips countless times when, after being stuck with rehearsals or an important dinner with some producer, he could finally head home and then let himself go on the bed or under the shower and jerk off. “I feel you, kiddo,” he says with a sympathetic nod, but then e remembers he’s talking with a ten years old asleep and horny boy, and he shakes his head violently. “What am I even saying?!” he whines, looking down at the boy now happily rubbing himself against the bear. “God, could you at least be quick?” he asks, “Show some compassion!”

But, apparently, Leo has none, because it seems like he needs a century of thrusting before he even starts to approach his climax, or whatever it could be called talking about a kid his age. Blaine doesn’t even know how long he’s been keeping that stuffed animal well pressed against Leo’s crotch, when he finally notices the kid’s cheeks are starting to get all flushed, and his breaths are getting heavier. “Really?” Blaine mutters, his eyes growing bigger as he stares at the wild movements of Leo’s hips, “Are you really going to come in your pants like this? Like, can you even really come, at your age?” he asks, but Leo doesn’t answer. He starts moaning louder and louder, his little body arching backwards as his small, pink tongue flicks between his swollen lips – he’s been sucking at them the whole time, giving Blaine chills he wouldn’t even start to question – and then Blaine hears him hold his breath for what seems like an entire minute of oxygen deprivation, during which he starts to get really worried, at least enough to finally pull his damn hand away from the toy.

Then Leo releases the deepest, happiest and most satisfied sigh Blaine has ever heard in his entire life, and falls back against the pillows gathered in a confused pile behind his head, smiling blissfully.

Blaine looks at him for a couple of seconds, painfully aware of the tight knot his insides are twisted in, not to mention the scandalous hard-on pushing against the fabric of his jeans.

Less than a minute after, he’s up from the couch and running towards the bathroom.

*
Leo wakes up more than an hour later. It’s half past nine, and Blaine has heard his little stomach grumble for the past twenty minutes, so his awakening was way more than just predictable. Actually predictable enough for Blaine to already patch it up.

“I had the weirdest dream…” Leo says, but the light smile parting his lips doesn’t leave any doubt on how the word weird could just as well mean wonderful right now in Leo’s special dictionary. Blaine smirks, and Leo luckily doesn’t notice. He points his nose up in the air, though, and starts sniffing around like a dog. “What’s with the smell?” he ask.

Blaine moves away from his computer, smiling triumphantly. “I ordered pizza,” he says, and Leo’s face lightens up so suddenly it’s almost comical.

“Yay!” he screams, throwing his legs down of the couch and standing up, but when he takes a step towards the table and the incredibly messy and hardly edible pizza awaiting for him on it, he freezes on the spot, his eyes wide open in shock, his little fists clutched down his sides. He blushes quickly, looking down at his crotch and exhaling a relieved breath when he notices that the wetness he’s probably feeling between his legs at least spared him a stain on his jeans. “I… I think I’m gonna use the bathroom, first,” he says.

Blaine chuckles lightly. “You know the way,” he nods, as he watches Leo run away without even waiting for him to finish his sentence.

Then he turns back to his computer and sends a private message to Tay. “Call me in a couple of hours. You won’t believe what I’m going to tell you.”