"I thought you said you loved scarves?" Blaine asked, putting a clearly fake innocent expression on his face.
"Blaine. It's the middle of July and we're in the middle of a heat wave. It's eighty-seven degrees out!" Kurt gestured outside, where the sun was in fact beating down on the grass. They'd been having a minor drought in Ohio, and the grass was turning brown.
"So don't wear a scarf," Blaine replied, still attempting to look innocent.
Kurt furrowed his brow at Blaine even further. "Right. And go to Friday Night Dinner with my father--who by the way can dismantle a car by himself, and goes hunting every fall--with you by my side and a hickey the size of my fist on the side of my neck?! I'd rather have you alive, thank you very much!"
"Oh," Blaine said, blanching, "I hadn't thought of that."
"Then, unless you want to be filled with buckshot, get your self-satisfied ass over here and help me put this concealer on."
Somebody filled while I was writing! Hope it's okay for me to post this anyway? =)
* * *
“You know,” Kurt says, and then cuts himself off with a little oh as Blaine’s teeth catch, especially sharp, at the point of his collarbone. Blaine pauses, politely waiting for Kurt to finish, maybe knowing as well as Kurt that he won’t be able to with Blaine’s mouth at his neck. “When I said I wanted something to make me think of you at McKinley, this - isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
Blaine chuckles, and slowly presses an open-mouthed kiss to the stinging patch just above his collarbone. “I know,” he says, his hands hot on Kurt’s waist even through layers of clothing. Kurt manages a shaky inhale as Blaine’s hand moves across his stomach, fingers sliding in between buttonholes to touch bare skin. “But you have to admit, it’ll be effective.”
“Yep,” Kurt admits, his voice a little shrill, and then suddenly Blaine’s sucking at his skin again, and Kurt never in a million years would have expected to like this, but his fingers are digging into
( ... )
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"I thought you said you loved scarves?" Blaine asked, putting a clearly fake innocent expression on his face.
"Blaine. It's the middle of July and we're in the middle of a heat wave. It's eighty-seven degrees out!" Kurt gestured outside, where the sun was in fact beating down on the grass. They'd been having a minor drought in Ohio, and the grass was turning brown.
"So don't wear a scarf," Blaine replied, still attempting to look innocent.
Kurt furrowed his brow at Blaine even further. "Right. And go to Friday Night Dinner with my father--who by the way can dismantle a car by himself, and goes hunting every fall--with you by my side and a hickey the size of my fist on the side of my neck?! I'd rather have you alive, thank you very much!"
"Oh," Blaine said, blanching, "I hadn't thought of that."
"Then, unless you want to be filled with buckshot, get your self-satisfied ass over here and help me put this concealer on."
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2. THANK YOU.
3. I LOVE SCARVES.
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2. You're welcome.
3. Scarves are awesome!
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"It goes with my outfit, Dad. The blue matches-"
"Son, it's the middle of July. It's 95 degrees outside."
"One has to make sacrifices for fashion."
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CUTE.
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* * *
“You know,” Kurt says, and then cuts himself off with a little oh as Blaine’s teeth catch, especially sharp, at the point of his collarbone. Blaine pauses, politely waiting for Kurt to finish, maybe knowing as well as Kurt that he won’t be able to with Blaine’s mouth at his neck. “When I said I wanted something to make me think of you at McKinley, this - isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
Blaine chuckles, and slowly presses an open-mouthed kiss to the stinging patch just above his collarbone. “I know,” he says, his hands hot on Kurt’s waist even through layers of clothing. Kurt manages a shaky inhale as Blaine’s hand moves across his stomach, fingers sliding in between buttonholes to touch bare skin. “But you have to admit, it’ll be effective.”
“Yep,” Kurt admits, his voice a little shrill, and then suddenly Blaine’s sucking at his skin again, and Kurt never in a million years would have expected to like this, but his fingers are digging into ( ... )
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You win.
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MOTHERFUCKING YES.
*faints from the hotness*
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