Like Shooting Stars (3/4)
Click to viewWould You Let Me See
He's drunk. He knows he is, and Santana is not helping by bringing him a new drink whenever he empties the one he has. She keeps telling him it's her duty to have him absolutely wasted because it's his birthday. But then she also tells him it's on her to get him, in her words, "thrown against a wall and ravished in ways he's not even dreamed of before," which Kurt rolls his eyes at. He has no intention of letting anyone bring him home and most definitely no plans to be bringing anyone to his own place. All he wants is to get drunk, dance a little, and then go home to sleep it off.
When the music changes to a slow song, Kurt’s struck by a need, a want to lose himself in the words and the melody. He knows it well, mouths along all the words and barely notices when a pair of hands grips his waist. It’s only when he feels arms wrapping around him and the gust of warm air hitting his neck as the person behind him moves closer that he hears a familiar voice softly sing into his ear.
You’ve built your wall so high / That no one could climb it / But I’m gonna try
He turns his head and is met with hazel eyes filled with a smile as Blaine continues to sing the words softly, asking Kurt to let his guard down. In that moment, Kurt wants to let go. He wants to lean into Blaine, wants to let himself fall and disappear in the embrace. A smile tugs on his lips, and he closes his eyes, letting the pretty boy behind him guide them both through the song. His arms stretch out over his head, and he reaches for the back of Blaine’s neck, leaning farther back. It feels safe, for once, to be braced against someone else, even if it’s a stranger. Blaine’s chin hooks over Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt can feel the smile as they continue dancing.
***
Blaine’s leaning as close as he possibly can without feeling like he’s pushing too much. He wants to wrap Kurt up in his arms and not let go, wants the world to go away so that they’re alone. When he opens his eyes, he notices Sebastian smirking and giving him thumbs up, so Blaine rolls his eyes and closes them again. It doesn’t feel like a random conquest, though Seb might seem to think it is. The song they’re dancing to talks about letting someone in, and that’s what Blaine wishes he was allowed Kurt would do for him.
“Would you let me see beneath your beautiful,” he sings into Kurt’s ear and feels the way Kurt’s breathing hitches.
It vibrates through Blaine’s fingers as he’s sliding them over Kurt’s shirt, muscles shifting with each movement.
“You are,” Blaine breathes out, “so beautiful.”
That is when Kurt turns around and lets his fingers run across Blaine’s cheek, then hooks one under Blaine’s chin and waits until Blaine opens his eyes. Their eyes drop to each other’s lips and then back up, words not spoken, but they both nod in agreement.
The first touch of their lips is gentle, barely there, like they’re both testing waters, still asking the other if it’s okay. It only takes a moment though and a subtle press of Kurt’s fingers into the dip on Blaine’s lower back, though, and the kiss deepens. Blaine tries to hold back a moan but can’t, and he knows Kurt can hear it even over the music. For a moment, he wonders if he’s crossed a line, and his eyes show panic when Kurt breaks the kiss and looks into them.
“It’s my birthday,” Kurt’s voice is deeper than usual as he leans closer to Blaine’s ear, “and I didn’t get a present yet, unless you count tequila shots...”
***
His words drift off as the boldness of his statement hits him for a split second, but he’s still drunk on the alcohol, the song and Blaine, beautiful Blaine who’s looking at him with eyes wide open and jaw dropped. Kurt traces Blaine's bottom lip and smiles, the taste of Blaine’s mouth still on his tongue. He doesn’t know if it’s only the drink or anything else, but he wants.
“Can I kiss you again?” he asks a little less bravely, hoping Blaine will not shy away.
“You can...” Blaine leans in instead and Kurt feels their lips touch, “...do anything. Happy birthday, beautiful.”
Everything blurs for Kurt after that. He crashes his lips against Blaine’s harder than before, and his fingers grip on the fabric of Blaine’s shirt. There are hands sliding up his back and to the back of his neck, trailing along the hairline. He’s aware of the moan that escapes his lips right into Blaine’s mouth and of the returning one from Blaine as they no longer move to the music.
The music changes back to a fast song, but Kurt doesn’t feel like getting back into dancing anymore. He’s still feeling the alcohol warming his blood, and the world is a little fuzzy around the edges. Pulling away from the kiss is not easy, but he does, smirking at the way Blaine pouts.
“Come on,” he mouths, and links his fingers with Blaine’s, leading him off the dance floor.
They find a corner where it’s quieter and less crowded, and within seconds, Kurt has Blaine pressed against the wall and his tongue is tasting the skin on Blaine’s neck.
“Get it, Anderson!”
Blaine grumbles and looks over to Sebastian who’s passing by, eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips.
“Friend of yours?” Kurt asks and then cringes when Santana’s whistle breaks the momentary silence, “OK, what would you say to moving this somewhere with less... obnoxious friends?”
Blaine only nods in response, still breathless from the kiss and having Kurt crowding against him earlier.
“At the risk of sounding like a complete cliché,” Kurt says with an apologetic tone, “your place or mine?”
***
Blaine nods when Kurt mentions that his roommates are both due back during the night and links their fingers on the way out, calling a cab and giving the driver his address. They don’t even make it the whole way when Kurt’s hand drops to Blaine’s thigh and he starts tracing the seam of Blaine’s jeans.
“Patience,” Blaine whispers, “We’re almost there.”
“I don’t...” Kurt suddenly blushes and pulls his hand away.
The cab pulls up at Blaine’s place and they get out, Kurt hesitating for a moment, the cool air outside seemingly sobering him up some.
“Look,” Blaine says, stepping closer and pulling his jacket off to wrap it around Kurt’s shoulders, “there are no expectations, but I don’t want to let you go just yet,” he whispers and waits for Kurt to look up, “come in, we can... I don’t know, talk, dance some more, maybe kiss...”
“I like kissing you,” Kurt replies quietly.
A smile lights up Blaine’s face and he reaches for and tugs on Kurt’s hand. They only get as far as the elevator before they’re kissing again, Kurt’s fingers tangling through Blaine’s curls.
***
Kurt stirs and shivers when the blanket slips off him. It's not cold, but the morning air hits his skin, and it's just enough to wake him up and make him groan quietly because his head immediately starts pounding. There's a familiar face in front of him when he opens his eyes, and panic immediately sets in, so he scrambles out of bed as quietly as possible. The night before is hazy and blurry in his mind, but it's slowly coming together while he looks for his clothes.
His underwear is hanging off the bedside lamp and, oh God he doesn’t remember how it got there. He only recalls the warm fingers that were shaking in anticipation as they were pulling the fabric off before they both fell into the bed, kicking off socks that he finds just below the bedside table. His jeans are in a lump halfway to the door, and Kurt is hit by the memory of Blaine running his fingers along the waistband and then sinking to his knees to undo the buttons one by one, looking up to Kurt with a smirk.
Finally, he finds his shirt hanging on the door handle, and he knows it started coming off the moment they walked in the front door, button by button between slow kisses, and stumbling towards the bedroom awkwardly because they couldn't let go of each other. He throws one last look towards the bed as he's slipping feet into his shoes. Blaine is stretched out on top of the sheets and still fast asleep, and for a moment Kurt thinks he could go back and stay. But then his phone buzzes from the pocket of his jeans, and he's awake, and the urge to run takes over.
The front door is clicking shut behind him when it hits Kurt that he could have left a note or his phone number, and for a second, he’s hit with regret. Then his phone’s incessant buzzing returns, and he groans at Santana’s name on the screen and walks away, shoulders slumped.
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