Glee!fic: Eleven In The Morning . . .
Eleven In The Morning On The First Day Of My Life, still on the Glee thing, and trousers actually do come off this time.
Disclaimer: Do you actually see this happening on screen in a high school musical drama? Then I'm probably not on the official writing team, hm?
Rating: Actually NC-17, read in public only if you are damn hard to embarrass.
Spoilers: Set after Rumours I guess but light on plot and therefore light on spoilers anyway.
Summary: Kurt's made a special playlist for the occasion, and all Blaine's brought is incomprehension and a complex or two.
Note: I know that the fandom generally has gone with 'Klaine' for this pairing but I am mildly disappointed that we didn't pick 'Blurt' because it so neatly describes what is their often preferred method of communicating with each other <3 Also, the definition of living on the edge: writing porn with a cake in the oven. WILL IT BURN. WILL YOU FORGET ALL ABOUT IT. THE EXHILARATION. Now, boysmut.
Kurt answers Blaine's knock, eleven o' clock on a Saturday morning and his hair still a little shower-damp. He smiles at him around the doorframe and Blaine has to kiss him - just, he has to - even though he knows they probably shouldn't if Kurt's dad or step-brother are in the room behind him, but he just, it's Kurt, he has to.
Afterwards Kurt opens his eyes again, bright morning blue, just a very little green in the spring sunshine, and gives a little breath of happiness behind his smile. "Hi to you too. Come on."
Inside Blaine toes his shoes off and the room is empty, thankfully, lit by cool coasting morning sunlight as Kurt turns the TV off and says, "Do you want a drink, are you hungry?"
"I'm good, thanks."
So Kurt smiles over his shoulder and heads upstairs, and Blaine follows him because it's Kurt and the leash might be invisible and intangible but that doesn't mean that Kurt's not always holding it. Kurt's dressed pretty casually, for Kurt - blue jeans, absurdly tight because all his pants are absurdly tight, and a soft old sweatshirt rolled back a little on his arms, so Blaine can see his slim naked wrist as he skates his hand along the banister as he goes, can see the fine pale hairs on his forearm catch the light. He does not think about biting the muscle of Kurt's arm and instead follows him like an entirely chaste and respectful boyfriend who did not have a wet dream about him the night before, not at all, especially not one so good he woke himself up by moaning out loud.
Sometimes he wishes Kurt did wear less tight pants, but then he doesn't again.
"Dad's at the garage," Kurt says, at the top of the stairs. "Carole's covering someone's shift, they called in sick. And Finn has slipped out to see Quinn in his incredibly unstealthy way, so."
Which explains why the house is silent, as Kurt heads into his room with his quick sweeping grace, stepping sideways once inside so that he can close the door after Blaine. He leans back against it, hands on the door handle, smiling, and Blaine thinks -
No. It's a very bad idea to think that if they're alone in the house.
"So no-one will object to a noisy duet?"
"Or your incredibly loud dancing. No. Shall . . ." Kurt's weight is tilted onto one hip, he does it unconsciously and it's one of those things that makes Blaine want to put a hand on that canted hip, not even in a particularly sexual way, it's just one of those Kurt things that makes him want to touch him to try to let the love in through his palm somehow. "Shall I put some music on?"
"It's your room."
Kurt ducks his chin into his chest and looks up at Blaine for a second (and okay Blaine might have a bit of a complex about his height because he always does find that painfully sexy) and then heads for his laptop. "How was your week?"
"You should know, Kurt, we spoke every single day."
"Fine, don't have a conversation with me, I'm only your boyfriend, you only keep me around as armcandy anyway."
Blaine laughs, sits on the edge of the bed, holds an arm out. "Come here. It was a week, Kurt. We had the traditional fortnightly Warbler 'debate' of much gavel-pounding. We're working on an amazing version of Change Is Gonna Come, you have to come see us perform it. And I missed you." They haven't seen each other except over Skype since Wednesday night, and Kurt sits next to him, smiles shyly as Blaine touches his bare forearm and the room fills with quiet music.
"I missed you too," he says quietly, and Blaine puts an arm around his back, low and loose, scared to pull him closer because of how close he really wants him.
"So how was your week?"
Kurt rolls his eyes. "Glee club's in meltdown, everyone hates everyone else and I am so not getting involved, I did not come back to McKinley to babysit them. And Finn melted a yoghurt pot onto the stove. I don't even know how. It took me half the night to clean it off. Then I killed him and buried his body in the back yard, that's where he actually is, the Quinn story was just a cover."
"It was very convincing. You did the right thing, though, and I promise to be your alibi if you need one."
"Thank you. I'm glad you understand." Kurt leans into his shoulder, shuffles his legs up to curl underneath himself, sighs. "I do miss you. It's silly, I know, we still see each other all the time, but I find myself looking around for you just to - to catch your eye over something, and it just seems so strange that you're not there."
"I know," Blaine murmurs, because he does; he's trying to re-piece together the life he had at Dalton B.K., Before Kurt, which feels like it existed a couple of millennia ago. He neglected pretty much every friend he had to hang around with Kurt every moment of the school day, and now he feels embarrassed going back to them all, Hi, how've you been, sorry I've been obsessed with Kurt Hummel for the last few months, I guess you all worked out I was crazily in love with him a long time before I did, huh?
The song's a low, prettily guitar-led number, and Blaine knows that Kurt chooses music sometimes to please Blaine and sometimes to try to lead him astray of bubblegum pop; he doesn't know this one, but he likes it, and if he asks about it then he knows Kurt will burn him a CD of this and all the other music he should like if he likes this. Kurt's musical tastes have no boundaries, his iTunes library is vast and eclectic and almost nonsensical to an outside observer. He owns French hip hop. Seriously, Blaine wonders, where did he even get it?
Kurt's looking at him, and then his teeth pull at his bottom lip for a second before he licks it. Blaine doesn't know if it's an invitation or not but he can't not anyway. He puts a hand on the side of his throat to kiss him, to feel the warm of his skin and the rising pulse there, as Kurt makes a little drawn-in noise on his breath and kisses back. He is -
He is so, so everything Blaine could ever have wanted (I've been looking for you forever), and he curses himself frequently for how much time he let go to waste when he could have been this to Kurt, because he knows now how long Kurt wanted this for. And it's not fair, how long Kurt had to wait, how long he had to be patient and faithful and such a good friend, waiting for Blaine to just notice how beautiful he is. Blaine does know that he isn't always as observant as he might be, that generally he looks for the things that ought to be there, not the things that actually are there. And Kurt is so there, so open and entirely giving and entirely perfect as his mouth moves on Blaine's, drawing at his lips before Blaine feels the questioning touch of his tongue and Blaine lets him in.
He can hear Kurt's breath, low and loud as the sea, and his hand is pulling Blaine's shirt taut below his shoulder blade, and his other hand is on Blaine's knee. That is the hand he's aware of, very aware of, he can feel the touch of it all the way up his leg and making important muscles clench, and for a second he uses the hand under Kurt's jaw to pull him closer, close enough that he feels his own struggling chest touch Kurt's as his breath comes harder, and then he has to push him back, get some space, try to get his breathing under control. He looks away from Kurt because he knows what he must look like, what Kurt does to him. And they're alone in the house and this is such a bad idea.
So he draws a little breath in, lets it loose, says, "What song is this?"
Kurt licks his lips and swallows. "Death Cab. Don't tell Mercedes I have this, she'll mock."
"I like the guitar," Blaine says, and stares at Kurt's laptop because the distance he's managed to get isn't enough, and he has a lot of self-control but everyone has their limits and he could break in a second next to Kurt. A second's break that couldn't ever be repaired, and he can't.
Kurt touches his arm and says, "I'll burn it for you," and pulls at him, just a little, turning him back to him, and Blaine looks at his mouth and it is ridiculous how pathetic he is at saying no to Kurt. The kiss comes harder this time, he can't help it, he digs his fingers into Kurt's hair still damp at the roots and Kurt holds him by the wrists, his breath beginning to shake his chest, and Blaine -
- terrifies himself with what he wants to do to Kurt in these moments. He pushes back, stands up, takes two steps away with an arm around himself and the back of his hand over his mouth, glaring at the floor, almost shaking with it all, and Kurt says sounding so lost, "Blaine?"
"This isn't a good idea. We should - I don't know. Go out, maybe."
"But . . ."
"Maybe get coffee. I." He rubs his eye, taps his foot, every muscle in his body is singing with energy, rattling like the ropes on flagpoles in high wind. "I don't know. What do you want to do?"
Kurt lets his legs hang off the edge of his bed and says quietly, "I want you to kiss me."
"There." That comes out too harsh and he stops, tries to gather his voice. "There are times when maybe I shouldn't. Do you understand?"
"No. This seems like the perfect time to me."
"Well that is fine for you but I am having some -" He doesn't want to be getting angry with Kurt like this, about this, god, what does that make him? "- some issues, Kurt, I can't always - come halfway and -"
Kurt's staring at him, staring up at him since he's sitting and Blaine's standing, mouth just a little parted, legs just a little open, looking not really scared or comprehending, just wondering somehow, and Blaine drags his hands through his hair.
"Look, I am not going to - I know you have some, some issues in this area and I am not going to - to force this further than you want it to go but Kurt, I can't keep - getting this close with you and not, it just makes me - I can't. And oh god this makes me sound like the creepy rapist fuck of a boyfriend, I'm not trying to manipulate you into this, I would never love you any less for this, I will wait because I have to wait but you just make me - oh god it sounds creepy again, doesn't it-?"
"It doesn't sound creepy. And I'm not." Kurt looks down. "I'm not as not okay with it as you might think." Quietly, "You could, you know."
In that second what grips Blaine is fury, partly because he's still so turned on he's quivering a little and Kurt so doesn't get it, and partly because he's furious with Kurt for putting himself in a position where he could get so hurt and not even realising it. "I could what, Kurt? What do you think would happen next, do you want me to hold you down and fuck you, what?"
Kurt lifts his head bright-eyed with anger and Blaine realises, for the first time, that he might have misread this situation. "Don't say it like that. You would never do that so don't say that. You would never hurt me. Why do you think it has to be like that? Why do you think I invited you over when the house is empty and I'm not wearing difficult layers and I made us a playlist you idiot and - for god's sake Blaine, I trust you, don't you understand that? I trust you. I would let you do anything to me because I know that you would never, never do anything that I didn't want you to do. Don't act like you ever would hurt me because you wouldn't, it's ridiculous. God."
Blaine doesn't know what to say, staring at him as Kurt stares back fuming, chest heaving a little, flushed and pissed off and Blaine - swallows. "You invited me . . . because . . ."
Kurt wraps his arms around himself. "What, do you think I'm creepy now?"
"No. No. I. I thought you weren't . . . ready."
Kurt draws his breath in through his nose, lets it slowly out, forcibly calming himself. "I don't like the idea of sex in the abstract." he says, carefully, like he's rehearsed it. "Because if it's just some abstract person then it's just some abstract body with abstract - skin and hair and smell and it's just - disgusting. Frankly. I would rather not. But that has nothing to do with us. This isn't about sex in the abstract, this is just about you, Blaine, and . . . and I, I don't know how to . . . I'm sorry." He hunches his shoulders. "This is all messed up, I knew I would mess it up. I don't know how, Blaine."
". . . I don't either."
"You do." Kurt says, watching his eyes, and he makes Blaine feel translucent somehow because he is so sure of things, Kurt is as sure and solid as marble and a strong wind could blow away all of Blaine's bullshit and make him vanish. "Don't you? When you kiss me you know exactly what you want. All I'm telling you is that you can."
Blaine's hands clench and unclench at his sides, eyes wide on Kurt's, and he tries to understand what he's saying, exactly what he's saying, because Kurt is always honest but sometimes honest in odd diagonal ways like he loves to keep Blaine on his toes, like he loves to make him really listen . . .
Kurt just sits there on the edge of his bed, hands gripping the covers, patient and proud and vulnerable and still pissed off. And Blaine begins to understand.
Kurt is one of the most verbally aggressive people Blaine knows. He never pulls a verbal punch, he says exactly what he's thinking to people twice his height without even blinking. But physically, Kurt is one of the most passive people Blaine knows. If someone shoves Blaine then he shoves back. If someone shoves Kurt then he just hits the wall. And at McKinley that night, when Karofsky was there all lip-curled contempt and subtle danger and Blaine just wanted to put distance between him and Kurt if he had to physically push him the whole damn way - Kurt just stood there, didn't do a thing, said what he was thinking but didn't even move. Blaine isn't sure that if Karofsky had actually gone for him Kurt would have even taken a step back. He is not physically assertive. And Blaine understands for the first time that the fact that he never physically initiates it doesn't mean that he doesn't want to have sex, it just means . . .
He's perfectly happy for Blaine to do things, because he wants to have things done to him.
A little shaky noise tries to make its way out of Blaine's throat and he only just stops it. He'd thought he'd been turned on before but now he feels himself jerk in his underwear, and Kurt sits there straight-backed and entirely exposed and still so damn proud, and god, yes, Blaine wants.
He says, dry-voiced while another low song starts on Kurt's iTunes, "Tell me you're sure."
Kurt's jaw tightens for a second, and then he says again in a low, raw voice, "You can do anything to me, because there's nothing you would do that I wouldn't want you to."
Blaine does make a noise on his next breath, he can't help it, as he walks back to Kurt and stands between his legs, looking down at him while Kurt blinks hard and lifts his head and holds his eye. Blaine takes his jaw in his hands to hold his gaze, strokes his thumbs over his cheeks. If he starts this he knows he won't be able to stop. "You're sure you want this."
Kurt makes an annoyed noise and grabs his wrists again. "Do I have to do everything in this relationship-?"
Blaine kisses him before he can catch and hold to his anger, kisses him and feels Kurt flutter underneath his hands, closing his fingers around his wrists. And he has no idea what he's doing, but he knows his body knows what it wants, and all he wants to do is make Kurt feel good.
He pushes at him, pressing him back onto the bed and Kurt shuffles obediently to make room for him to crawl on after him, kissing him harder, opening his mouth with his own to feel the sharp clear edges of his teeth. He pulls at Kurt's sweater, lifts his head to look down at him - kneeling while Kurt sits is a good idea, he's definitely remembering to do this again - and pulls. Kurt lifts his arms, slips them free and he's naked underneath, crossing his arms low over his chest, eyes flicking nervously down before they meet Blaine's again. He smiles, crookedly. Blaine kisses him.
He'd like the time to look, really, to weigh up Kurt's body with the body he wears in Blaine's head, but he needs to keep Kurt preoccupied, he doesn't want to just be staring at him, and anyway they will have the time, there will be the time, they will find the time for this, and right now he needs to work quickly before he loses his nerve. His breath's already coming quicker, and he can smell Kurt this close, warm and clean and still with the lingering scent of shampoo from his shower. And suddenly he knows that Kurt showered for him, for this, and arousal clogs his throat, he has to swallow around it.
He puts a hand to the side of Kurt's chest and they both flinch for a second before his palm settles, his fingers fan out over Kurt's white smooth skin like they're meant to fit there and Kurt closes his eyes, clenches his teeth for a second before Blaine kisses him again. Blaine lets his hand run lower, slipping down the angle of his side, his flat stomach, the jut of his hipbone. He has a dancer's body, stronger than Blaine would have given him credit for. Blaine has to break the kiss to look down because he has to check; Kurt's an innie.
"You're beautiful," he says, and startles himself with how hoarse it comes out. He swallows and there's no moisture there, none, and he has to clear his throat. "And I think you can tell that I'm coming a bit to pieces here."
Kurt pulls at his hip, a shut up and kiss me pull. Blaine presses him back, kneels over his waist and applies just enough pressure to let Kurt know what he wants. Kurt lays calmly back, watches Blaine's face as he settles his weight on his elbows over him so he can lean down and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.
It's better, like this, it's so much better, with this hot pressure building between his legs like a pan coming slowly to the boil and for once he knows it can. Kurt grips his shirt hard while Blaine investigates him with one hand, his shoulders, the plane of his chest, and as a dry-mouthed experiment he lets a thumb glance over Kurt's nipple and he jolts against the mattress, clashes teeth with Blaine in the kiss and they both pull back startled, Kurt with a hand over his mouth.
"Sorry," he mumbles through it, and Blaine laughs, a short shocked bark of laughter, and uses his fingertips this time to roll and press a little. Kurt grips the covers in both hands, his every muscle gone tight, and croaks, "That feels."
"Mm?"
He swallows. "Good."
"Good." Blaine looks at the other neglected nipple and thinks of the things he's aware are meant to be sexy, lowers his head and not very certainly tongues it into his mouth. Kurt makes a high noise through his hand. Something else to try again, then.
His heart seems to have moved position in his body, it's now taken up residence in the disco-thudding insistence of his erection. There will be time, he tells himself, kneeling back a little, putting his hands on Kurt's hips, popping the button of his jeans. There will be time. But this is the first time and I need, need, need -
(It is terrifying how much he needs Kurt and when he remembers that his hands go numb for a second, paralysed with how he could fuck this up and he can't, he can't ever fuck anything up for Kurt-)
When he pulls down Kurt's fly Kurt's hands spasm in the covers, twisting them. Blaine swallows, puts his hands to Kurt's hips again, tries to slide his jeans down but there's not really enough give to do that, he jerks hard but he has no idea how Kurt got these on, does he oil himself up for it -?
Kurt starts laughing, breathlessly, and Blaine looks up at him as he smiles down at Blaine and says, "Here," shuffling himself up a little, lifting his hips and slipping his hands in underneath Blaine's. He takes care of his jeans and briefs in one go, and once they're down to his thighs Blaine can get some traction and do the pulling for him. Kurt lays back, breathes at his headboard for a moment, nothing left to hide behind, and Blaine drops his jeans over the side of the bed, stares at him and swallows. Stupidly, he thinks of lilies. Kurt's half hard, maybe nervous from the dumb intensity of Blaine's gaze, and Blaine suddenly has no comprehension of how anyone wants porn because it's like staring at a photograph of a glass of water when you're dying of thirst and what you need is this, surely-?
He makes himself look down at Kurt's socks and lifts one of his ankles, says, "This seems slightly irrelevant by this point, doesn't it?"
Kurt bites his lip as he smiles. "Next time. Socks first."
"Yes. This is a learning experience."
"You're a fast learner," Kurt says, a little breathless, and Blaine drops his socks overboard feeling like pretty much his entire body is just an extension of his erection by this point and oh, Kurt.
"Blaine?" Kurt says, while Blaine tries to breathe while staring at all Kurt's skin, not knowing how to look away from him between the legs where the hair is only a little darker than on his head and curls less than Blaine's, and his dick looks dark against all the white of him and, frankly, lonely. He's never thought of that word in connection to someone's penis before, but he looks at Kurt's and thinks that it needs a friend. Him, for preference.
"Um?" he manages to say, and it's pretty impressive that he gets even that far.
"Undress." Kurt says, like it's an order, and then like it's a mere formality, "Please."
Blaine swallows, lifts his odd cottony fingers, tries to undo his shirt. He will never wear a shirt again, not if he's going to be anywhere near Kurt. He'll wear t-shirts or else Velcro like a stripper. He does eventually manage to get all the buttons open so he can pull it off and Kurt swallows as he looks at him, lifts a shy hand and skims his knuckles down the side of Blaine's chest. Blaine's breath gives a shuddery jump at Kurt's pale fingers on his skin. "Kurt -"
"Undress." Kurt commands again, calm in the knowledge that he will be obeyed, brave now that he's stripped bare himself. Blaine reaches for his belt automatically, has to climb off Kurt and do an undignified hopping-yanking-wrenching motion to get his pants off, hears them hit the floor hard (his phone was in his pocket, whoops) before he can shuffle his body back down to Kurt's again, hesitating only a second before laying back over him, and now -
Kurt groans very softly and Blaine whispers, "Jesus Jesus Jesus," because he can feel the soft skin of Kurt's thighs against his own, he can feel the damp touch of Kurt's erection, Kurt must be very aware of Blaine's because it feels like it's practically glowing with heat against Kurt's lower belly, it's gone nuclear and Blaine can't think in sentences anymore.
Kurt closes his eyes for a second, lets his head back against the pillow, says, "It's just ridiculous, you are just ridiculous, even your sweat smells amazing and that just shouldn't be possible."
It's a good thing that Kurt does like the smell of Blaine's sweat, because he's been overheated with overeagerness since the first time Kurt kissed him hello. Blaine's arms are shaking, and he finds out that his voice is too when he says, "That's because I inject myself with cologne at regular intervals throughout the day."
Kurt starts laughing, his body jumping under Blaine's and Blaine feels his mouth sag open at the way it jogs Kurt's dick against him and slithers Kurt's skin against his own, and when Kurt sucks a breath in Blaine takes the opportunity to kiss him, sinking down on his elbows, letting them press close. Kurt drops his thighs open, gives a soft grunt into the kiss as Blaine shifts his hips, pressing against each other's erections now and Blaine's breath bursts against Kurt's mouth. Kurt starts laughing again. None of this is anything like how Blaine thought that sex would be. For one thing it's about ten billion times better.
He shifts his weight to an elbow to drag his body up Kurt's, and Kurt makes a little whining noise and his hands scrabble Blaine's sides for grip. Blaine grits his teeth, does not curse out loud, lets his body back and drags up again and Kurt's fingers run firmly up his spine and oh god fuck and he thinks he did say that out loud because Kurt's laughing, breathless broken laughter as his hand slides up Blaine's back and closes in his hair, arm wrapped around him, cupping the back of his skull and almost singing under his ear, "Blaine, Blaine, Blaine-"
Well, he's sixteen. Blaine comes shuddering and guttering and trying not to scream into Kurt's neck, while Kurt gives a shocked jerk underneath him, strokes his hair and keeps whispering his name like a question against his forehead. Blaine's head drops, his neck feels like it's come unattached in some important way. For a moment he feels so spent he might just pass out on top of his boyfriend, until he realises that if he does that Kurt will probably never let him have sex with him again. He shakes his head, his breath snorting, trying to remember himself. Kurt -
Stares up at him, mute pleading eyes, and Blaine feels down between their bodies, finds Kurt's still-hard cock. Kurt's entire body jerks backwards and he makes a high shocked noise, and within two strokes Blaine's found the right grip, the right rhythm, firm and determined and he looks into Kurt's eyes and makes him come, his fingers digging tight into Blaine's shoulders, keening high and sharp until the noise breaks and Blaine worries for a second as Kurt's body sags panting against the bed that he might have actually just broken Kurt's voice and Kurt will never forgive him.
Then Kurt breathes, "Oh, my god." and Blaine grins his relief, lowers his head, runs his thumb over Kurt's cheek and kisses him. Kurt folds his arms around Blaine's neck, hums happily into the kiss, his body pliable and heavy and loose-limbed like sex is the best warm-up exercise in the world. Which it is, actually. Blaine could dance to New York and back again right now. But that would involve letting go of Kurt so it's not going to happen.
He lets his body sink into Kurt's and encounters wetness, cringes back a little and looks down: oh. Gravity has dictated that Kurt's taken most of the mess, and he shuffles back on his elbows to look down with Blaine at his own stomach, eyebrows raised and mouth pursed, like he's trying to understand why he's not more grossed out by this. Blaine strokes his side, and kisses his shoulder because it's there, and Kurt drops his head onto his, sighs.
The music plays, low and loving, and Blaine listens to it for a while with an arm around Kurt's back, stroking his bare skin in a way he never has been able to before. Everything feels really right, really natural and calming and like it was always meant to be like this. He doesn't believe in fate but he does believe that he, they, have been insanely lucky in a global population of billions to find each other in the crowd, so lucky that his throat hurts.
"You chose these songs for us?" he says quietly, and Kurt shifts closer into his side, says, "If you tease then we're never doing that again."
"No, no. Make me a copy?"
"Okay," Kurt whispers, and his fingers trail down Blaine's side. "Blaine?"
"Hm?" Kurt's skin is warm and the way he smells makes Blaine understand what he meant about his sweat; he smells of male sex, of sweat and skin and come, but in such a good way that he makes Blaine feel hungry.
". . . it's actually beginning to dry on me now and it's a bit disgusting. If you don't mind."
"Oh. Shower?"
"Yes. You're coming too."
"Okay." He doesn't want Kurt to ever go anywhere without him again.
Kurt sits up properly, and looks around his bedroom with his eyes just puzzled, like he's trying to understand where he might have seen it before. "That . . . I didn't think it would be like that."
"I liked it," Blaine says, small and uncertain. Kurt turns to him, puts a hand on his face and kisses him.
"Of course I liked it, it was - it was better than I thought it would be, it was, I don't know. You think it's going to be like something in a movie." Somehow between the front door and here his eyes have gone sea green and Blaine doesn't know how he does that trick, one day he'll understand which lighting does what to Kurt's irises but until then he'll just have to stare sort of mesmerised by them. "It's . . . I don't know. More personal." He runs a hand down Blaine's arm, looks down to follow his own fingers on Blaine's skin. "It would be different with other people, wouldn't it? There's only you and me in all the world who'll be that. Am I making sense? I think you unplugged some really important wires in my brain."
The laugh comes out soft on his breath, because he is so glad if that undid Kurt even half as much as it did Blaine. "No. I know what you mean." He brushes Kurt's hair off his forehead and watches his face, the flick of his eyes to follow his hand, the way he blinks and focuses on Blaine's eyes again, and says, "I hope . . . when I remember this, for the rest of my life, and I know I will. I hope I remember it right."
Kurt looks back at him, still and calm and naked, smiling just a little, just a little proud, pleased with the both of them and where they've travelled together, back straight and head a little tilted, throat bared for Blaine with no fear and a little bit of a dare in his eyes. He'll always be this, Blaine thinks. Hopes. He'll always trust Blaine this much, love him this much, always look back at him with no fear and only dangerous optimism in his eyes.
"Shower," Kurt says, climbing over Blaine and taking his hand, tugging him off the bed with him, barefoot across the room. Blaine watches how his shoulder blades work as he walks, and lower, how his ass moves, and he's really just astonished by the concept of Kurt naked, he's just - he should be in a museum. Except Blaine doesn't want other people to have him, so.
"This would be a really bad time for your dad to unexpectedly come home."
"Yes, but he might actually be so shocked that you would have time to jump out of the window." Kurt says, tugging him into the bathroom. "I would try to defend you," he offers. "Just not very hard because it would be weird being naked in front of my dad."
"Naked and covered in . . . I should bring condoms next time."
"That would be the gentlemanly thing to do."
"Kurt?" Blaine says, while Kurt turns the shower on and tests the heat with a hand, shaking the water off it.
"Hm?"
He kisses the join of Kurt's shoulder and neck. "I love you."
He hears Kurt breathe, one slow breath in and out even over the hiss of water, and then Kurt's hand closes in his hair from behind. "I know," he says quietly, as Blaine wraps his arms around him, stepping closer to his back. "I know. I do too, I love you so much I don't even . . ."
Blaine buries his face in the back of Kurt's neck where he smells of their sex because Kurt's going to wash it off, and he doesn't know how to tell him that they have to do it again because he wants to be able to smell it on him again without sounding like a freak. It's ridiculous what happens to him around this boy. He believes in happy endings when he holds Kurt. He just believes in Kurt.
He hums into Kurt's warm skin, Let's go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love. Kurt laughs, turns to take his hands, pulls him into the shower.
Disclaimer: Do you actually see this happening on screen in a high school musical drama? Then I'm probably not on the official writing team, hm?
Rating: Actually NC-17, read in public only if you are damn hard to embarrass.
Spoilers: Set after Rumours I guess but light on plot and therefore light on spoilers anyway.
Summary: Kurt's made a special playlist for the occasion, and all Blaine's brought is incomprehension and a complex or two.
Note: I know that the fandom generally has gone with 'Klaine' for this pairing but I am mildly disappointed that we didn't pick 'Blurt' because it so neatly describes what is their often preferred method of communicating with each other <3 Also, the definition of living on the edge: writing porn with a cake in the oven. WILL IT BURN. WILL YOU FORGET ALL ABOUT IT. THE EXHILARATION. Now, boysmut.
Kurt answers Blaine's knock, eleven o' clock on a Saturday morning and his hair still a little shower-damp. He smiles at him around the doorframe and Blaine has to kiss him - just, he has to - even though he knows they probably shouldn't if Kurt's dad or step-brother are in the room behind him, but he just, it's Kurt, he has to.
Afterwards Kurt opens his eyes again, bright morning blue, just a very little green in the spring sunshine, and gives a little breath of happiness behind his smile. "Hi to you too. Come on."
Inside Blaine toes his shoes off and the room is empty, thankfully, lit by cool coasting morning sunlight as Kurt turns the TV off and says, "Do you want a drink, are you hungry?"
"I'm good, thanks."
So Kurt smiles over his shoulder and heads upstairs, and Blaine follows him because it's Kurt and the leash might be invisible and intangible but that doesn't mean that Kurt's not always holding it. Kurt's dressed pretty casually, for Kurt - blue jeans, absurdly tight because all his pants are absurdly tight, and a soft old sweatshirt rolled back a little on his arms, so Blaine can see his slim naked wrist as he skates his hand along the banister as he goes, can see the fine pale hairs on his forearm catch the light. He does not think about biting the muscle of Kurt's arm and instead follows him like an entirely chaste and respectful boyfriend who did not have a wet dream about him the night before, not at all, especially not one so good he woke himself up by moaning out loud.
Sometimes he wishes Kurt did wear less tight pants, but then he doesn't again.
"Dad's at the garage," Kurt says, at the top of the stairs. "Carole's covering someone's shift, they called in sick. And Finn has slipped out to see Quinn in his incredibly unstealthy way, so."
Which explains why the house is silent, as Kurt heads into his room with his quick sweeping grace, stepping sideways once inside so that he can close the door after Blaine. He leans back against it, hands on the door handle, smiling, and Blaine thinks -
No. It's a very bad idea to think that if they're alone in the house.
"So no-one will object to a noisy duet?"
"Or your incredibly loud dancing. No. Shall . . ." Kurt's weight is tilted onto one hip, he does it unconsciously and it's one of those things that makes Blaine want to put a hand on that canted hip, not even in a particularly sexual way, it's just one of those Kurt things that makes him want to touch him to try to let the love in through his palm somehow. "Shall I put some music on?"
"It's your room."
Kurt ducks his chin into his chest and looks up at Blaine for a second (and okay Blaine might have a bit of a complex about his height because he always does find that painfully sexy) and then heads for his laptop. "How was your week?"
"You should know, Kurt, we spoke every single day."
"Fine, don't have a conversation with me, I'm only your boyfriend, you only keep me around as armcandy anyway."
Blaine laughs, sits on the edge of the bed, holds an arm out. "Come here. It was a week, Kurt. We had the traditional fortnightly Warbler 'debate' of much gavel-pounding. We're working on an amazing version of Change Is Gonna Come, you have to come see us perform it. And I missed you." They haven't seen each other except over Skype since Wednesday night, and Kurt sits next to him, smiles shyly as Blaine touches his bare forearm and the room fills with quiet music.
"I missed you too," he says quietly, and Blaine puts an arm around his back, low and loose, scared to pull him closer because of how close he really wants him.
"So how was your week?"
Kurt rolls his eyes. "Glee club's in meltdown, everyone hates everyone else and I am so not getting involved, I did not come back to McKinley to babysit them. And Finn melted a yoghurt pot onto the stove. I don't even know how. It took me half the night to clean it off. Then I killed him and buried his body in the back yard, that's where he actually is, the Quinn story was just a cover."
"It was very convincing. You did the right thing, though, and I promise to be your alibi if you need one."
"Thank you. I'm glad you understand." Kurt leans into his shoulder, shuffles his legs up to curl underneath himself, sighs. "I do miss you. It's silly, I know, we still see each other all the time, but I find myself looking around for you just to - to catch your eye over something, and it just seems so strange that you're not there."
"I know," Blaine murmurs, because he does; he's trying to re-piece together the life he had at Dalton B.K., Before Kurt, which feels like it existed a couple of millennia ago. He neglected pretty much every friend he had to hang around with Kurt every moment of the school day, and now he feels embarrassed going back to them all, Hi, how've you been, sorry I've been obsessed with Kurt Hummel for the last few months, I guess you all worked out I was crazily in love with him a long time before I did, huh?
The song's a low, prettily guitar-led number, and Blaine knows that Kurt chooses music sometimes to please Blaine and sometimes to try to lead him astray of bubblegum pop; he doesn't know this one, but he likes it, and if he asks about it then he knows Kurt will burn him a CD of this and all the other music he should like if he likes this. Kurt's musical tastes have no boundaries, his iTunes library is vast and eclectic and almost nonsensical to an outside observer. He owns French hip hop. Seriously, Blaine wonders, where did he even get it?
Kurt's looking at him, and then his teeth pull at his bottom lip for a second before he licks it. Blaine doesn't know if it's an invitation or not but he can't not anyway. He puts a hand on the side of his throat to kiss him, to feel the warm of his skin and the rising pulse there, as Kurt makes a little drawn-in noise on his breath and kisses back. He is -
He is so, so everything Blaine could ever have wanted (I've been looking for you forever), and he curses himself frequently for how much time he let go to waste when he could have been this to Kurt, because he knows now how long Kurt wanted this for. And it's not fair, how long Kurt had to wait, how long he had to be patient and faithful and such a good friend, waiting for Blaine to just notice how beautiful he is. Blaine does know that he isn't always as observant as he might be, that generally he looks for the things that ought to be there, not the things that actually are there. And Kurt is so there, so open and entirely giving and entirely perfect as his mouth moves on Blaine's, drawing at his lips before Blaine feels the questioning touch of his tongue and Blaine lets him in.
He can hear Kurt's breath, low and loud as the sea, and his hand is pulling Blaine's shirt taut below his shoulder blade, and his other hand is on Blaine's knee. That is the hand he's aware of, very aware of, he can feel the touch of it all the way up his leg and making important muscles clench, and for a second he uses the hand under Kurt's jaw to pull him closer, close enough that he feels his own struggling chest touch Kurt's as his breath comes harder, and then he has to push him back, get some space, try to get his breathing under control. He looks away from Kurt because he knows what he must look like, what Kurt does to him. And they're alone in the house and this is such a bad idea.
So he draws a little breath in, lets it loose, says, "What song is this?"
Kurt licks his lips and swallows. "Death Cab. Don't tell Mercedes I have this, she'll mock."
"I like the guitar," Blaine says, and stares at Kurt's laptop because the distance he's managed to get isn't enough, and he has a lot of self-control but everyone has their limits and he could break in a second next to Kurt. A second's break that couldn't ever be repaired, and he can't.
Kurt touches his arm and says, "I'll burn it for you," and pulls at him, just a little, turning him back to him, and Blaine looks at his mouth and it is ridiculous how pathetic he is at saying no to Kurt. The kiss comes harder this time, he can't help it, he digs his fingers into Kurt's hair still damp at the roots and Kurt holds him by the wrists, his breath beginning to shake his chest, and Blaine -
- terrifies himself with what he wants to do to Kurt in these moments. He pushes back, stands up, takes two steps away with an arm around himself and the back of his hand over his mouth, glaring at the floor, almost shaking with it all, and Kurt says sounding so lost, "Blaine?"
"This isn't a good idea. We should - I don't know. Go out, maybe."
"But . . ."
"Maybe get coffee. I." He rubs his eye, taps his foot, every muscle in his body is singing with energy, rattling like the ropes on flagpoles in high wind. "I don't know. What do you want to do?"
Kurt lets his legs hang off the edge of his bed and says quietly, "I want you to kiss me."
"There." That comes out too harsh and he stops, tries to gather his voice. "There are times when maybe I shouldn't. Do you understand?"
"No. This seems like the perfect time to me."
"Well that is fine for you but I am having some -" He doesn't want to be getting angry with Kurt like this, about this, god, what does that make him? "- some issues, Kurt, I can't always - come halfway and -"
Kurt's staring at him, staring up at him since he's sitting and Blaine's standing, mouth just a little parted, legs just a little open, looking not really scared or comprehending, just wondering somehow, and Blaine drags his hands through his hair.
"Look, I am not going to - I know you have some, some issues in this area and I am not going to - to force this further than you want it to go but Kurt, I can't keep - getting this close with you and not, it just makes me - I can't. And oh god this makes me sound like the creepy rapist fuck of a boyfriend, I'm not trying to manipulate you into this, I would never love you any less for this, I will wait because I have to wait but you just make me - oh god it sounds creepy again, doesn't it-?"
"It doesn't sound creepy. And I'm not." Kurt looks down. "I'm not as not okay with it as you might think." Quietly, "You could, you know."
In that second what grips Blaine is fury, partly because he's still so turned on he's quivering a little and Kurt so doesn't get it, and partly because he's furious with Kurt for putting himself in a position where he could get so hurt and not even realising it. "I could what, Kurt? What do you think would happen next, do you want me to hold you down and fuck you, what?"
Kurt lifts his head bright-eyed with anger and Blaine realises, for the first time, that he might have misread this situation. "Don't say it like that. You would never do that so don't say that. You would never hurt me. Why do you think it has to be like that? Why do you think I invited you over when the house is empty and I'm not wearing difficult layers and I made us a playlist you idiot and - for god's sake Blaine, I trust you, don't you understand that? I trust you. I would let you do anything to me because I know that you would never, never do anything that I didn't want you to do. Don't act like you ever would hurt me because you wouldn't, it's ridiculous. God."
Blaine doesn't know what to say, staring at him as Kurt stares back fuming, chest heaving a little, flushed and pissed off and Blaine - swallows. "You invited me . . . because . . ."
Kurt wraps his arms around himself. "What, do you think I'm creepy now?"
"No. No. I. I thought you weren't . . . ready."
Kurt draws his breath in through his nose, lets it slowly out, forcibly calming himself. "I don't like the idea of sex in the abstract." he says, carefully, like he's rehearsed it. "Because if it's just some abstract person then it's just some abstract body with abstract - skin and hair and smell and it's just - disgusting. Frankly. I would rather not. But that has nothing to do with us. This isn't about sex in the abstract, this is just about you, Blaine, and . . . and I, I don't know how to . . . I'm sorry." He hunches his shoulders. "This is all messed up, I knew I would mess it up. I don't know how, Blaine."
". . . I don't either."
"You do." Kurt says, watching his eyes, and he makes Blaine feel translucent somehow because he is so sure of things, Kurt is as sure and solid as marble and a strong wind could blow away all of Blaine's bullshit and make him vanish. "Don't you? When you kiss me you know exactly what you want. All I'm telling you is that you can."
Blaine's hands clench and unclench at his sides, eyes wide on Kurt's, and he tries to understand what he's saying, exactly what he's saying, because Kurt is always honest but sometimes honest in odd diagonal ways like he loves to keep Blaine on his toes, like he loves to make him really listen . . .
Kurt just sits there on the edge of his bed, hands gripping the covers, patient and proud and vulnerable and still pissed off. And Blaine begins to understand.
Kurt is one of the most verbally aggressive people Blaine knows. He never pulls a verbal punch, he says exactly what he's thinking to people twice his height without even blinking. But physically, Kurt is one of the most passive people Blaine knows. If someone shoves Blaine then he shoves back. If someone shoves Kurt then he just hits the wall. And at McKinley that night, when Karofsky was there all lip-curled contempt and subtle danger and Blaine just wanted to put distance between him and Kurt if he had to physically push him the whole damn way - Kurt just stood there, didn't do a thing, said what he was thinking but didn't even move. Blaine isn't sure that if Karofsky had actually gone for him Kurt would have even taken a step back. He is not physically assertive. And Blaine understands for the first time that the fact that he never physically initiates it doesn't mean that he doesn't want to have sex, it just means . . .
He's perfectly happy for Blaine to do things, because he wants to have things done to him.
A little shaky noise tries to make its way out of Blaine's throat and he only just stops it. He'd thought he'd been turned on before but now he feels himself jerk in his underwear, and Kurt sits there straight-backed and entirely exposed and still so damn proud, and god, yes, Blaine wants.
He says, dry-voiced while another low song starts on Kurt's iTunes, "Tell me you're sure."
Kurt's jaw tightens for a second, and then he says again in a low, raw voice, "You can do anything to me, because there's nothing you would do that I wouldn't want you to."
Blaine does make a noise on his next breath, he can't help it, as he walks back to Kurt and stands between his legs, looking down at him while Kurt blinks hard and lifts his head and holds his eye. Blaine takes his jaw in his hands to hold his gaze, strokes his thumbs over his cheeks. If he starts this he knows he won't be able to stop. "You're sure you want this."
Kurt makes an annoyed noise and grabs his wrists again. "Do I have to do everything in this relationship-?"
Blaine kisses him before he can catch and hold to his anger, kisses him and feels Kurt flutter underneath his hands, closing his fingers around his wrists. And he has no idea what he's doing, but he knows his body knows what it wants, and all he wants to do is make Kurt feel good.
He pushes at him, pressing him back onto the bed and Kurt shuffles obediently to make room for him to crawl on after him, kissing him harder, opening his mouth with his own to feel the sharp clear edges of his teeth. He pulls at Kurt's sweater, lifts his head to look down at him - kneeling while Kurt sits is a good idea, he's definitely remembering to do this again - and pulls. Kurt lifts his arms, slips them free and he's naked underneath, crossing his arms low over his chest, eyes flicking nervously down before they meet Blaine's again. He smiles, crookedly. Blaine kisses him.
He'd like the time to look, really, to weigh up Kurt's body with the body he wears in Blaine's head, but he needs to keep Kurt preoccupied, he doesn't want to just be staring at him, and anyway they will have the time, there will be the time, they will find the time for this, and right now he needs to work quickly before he loses his nerve. His breath's already coming quicker, and he can smell Kurt this close, warm and clean and still with the lingering scent of shampoo from his shower. And suddenly he knows that Kurt showered for him, for this, and arousal clogs his throat, he has to swallow around it.
He puts a hand to the side of Kurt's chest and they both flinch for a second before his palm settles, his fingers fan out over Kurt's white smooth skin like they're meant to fit there and Kurt closes his eyes, clenches his teeth for a second before Blaine kisses him again. Blaine lets his hand run lower, slipping down the angle of his side, his flat stomach, the jut of his hipbone. He has a dancer's body, stronger than Blaine would have given him credit for. Blaine has to break the kiss to look down because he has to check; Kurt's an innie.
"You're beautiful," he says, and startles himself with how hoarse it comes out. He swallows and there's no moisture there, none, and he has to clear his throat. "And I think you can tell that I'm coming a bit to pieces here."
Kurt pulls at his hip, a shut up and kiss me pull. Blaine presses him back, kneels over his waist and applies just enough pressure to let Kurt know what he wants. Kurt lays calmly back, watches Blaine's face as he settles his weight on his elbows over him so he can lean down and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.
It's better, like this, it's so much better, with this hot pressure building between his legs like a pan coming slowly to the boil and for once he knows it can. Kurt grips his shirt hard while Blaine investigates him with one hand, his shoulders, the plane of his chest, and as a dry-mouthed experiment he lets a thumb glance over Kurt's nipple and he jolts against the mattress, clashes teeth with Blaine in the kiss and they both pull back startled, Kurt with a hand over his mouth.
"Sorry," he mumbles through it, and Blaine laughs, a short shocked bark of laughter, and uses his fingertips this time to roll and press a little. Kurt grips the covers in both hands, his every muscle gone tight, and croaks, "That feels."
"Mm?"
He swallows. "Good."
"Good." Blaine looks at the other neglected nipple and thinks of the things he's aware are meant to be sexy, lowers his head and not very certainly tongues it into his mouth. Kurt makes a high noise through his hand. Something else to try again, then.
His heart seems to have moved position in his body, it's now taken up residence in the disco-thudding insistence of his erection. There will be time, he tells himself, kneeling back a little, putting his hands on Kurt's hips, popping the button of his jeans. There will be time. But this is the first time and I need, need, need -
(It is terrifying how much he needs Kurt and when he remembers that his hands go numb for a second, paralysed with how he could fuck this up and he can't, he can't ever fuck anything up for Kurt-)
When he pulls down Kurt's fly Kurt's hands spasm in the covers, twisting them. Blaine swallows, puts his hands to Kurt's hips again, tries to slide his jeans down but there's not really enough give to do that, he jerks hard but he has no idea how Kurt got these on, does he oil himself up for it -?
Kurt starts laughing, breathlessly, and Blaine looks up at him as he smiles down at Blaine and says, "Here," shuffling himself up a little, lifting his hips and slipping his hands in underneath Blaine's. He takes care of his jeans and briefs in one go, and once they're down to his thighs Blaine can get some traction and do the pulling for him. Kurt lays back, breathes at his headboard for a moment, nothing left to hide behind, and Blaine drops his jeans over the side of the bed, stares at him and swallows. Stupidly, he thinks of lilies. Kurt's half hard, maybe nervous from the dumb intensity of Blaine's gaze, and Blaine suddenly has no comprehension of how anyone wants porn because it's like staring at a photograph of a glass of water when you're dying of thirst and what you need is this, surely-?
He makes himself look down at Kurt's socks and lifts one of his ankles, says, "This seems slightly irrelevant by this point, doesn't it?"
Kurt bites his lip as he smiles. "Next time. Socks first."
"Yes. This is a learning experience."
"You're a fast learner," Kurt says, a little breathless, and Blaine drops his socks overboard feeling like pretty much his entire body is just an extension of his erection by this point and oh, Kurt.
"Blaine?" Kurt says, while Blaine tries to breathe while staring at all Kurt's skin, not knowing how to look away from him between the legs where the hair is only a little darker than on his head and curls less than Blaine's, and his dick looks dark against all the white of him and, frankly, lonely. He's never thought of that word in connection to someone's penis before, but he looks at Kurt's and thinks that it needs a friend. Him, for preference.
"Um?" he manages to say, and it's pretty impressive that he gets even that far.
"Undress." Kurt says, like it's an order, and then like it's a mere formality, "Please."
Blaine swallows, lifts his odd cottony fingers, tries to undo his shirt. He will never wear a shirt again, not if he's going to be anywhere near Kurt. He'll wear t-shirts or else Velcro like a stripper. He does eventually manage to get all the buttons open so he can pull it off and Kurt swallows as he looks at him, lifts a shy hand and skims his knuckles down the side of Blaine's chest. Blaine's breath gives a shuddery jump at Kurt's pale fingers on his skin. "Kurt -"
"Undress." Kurt commands again, calm in the knowledge that he will be obeyed, brave now that he's stripped bare himself. Blaine reaches for his belt automatically, has to climb off Kurt and do an undignified hopping-yanking-wrenching motion to get his pants off, hears them hit the floor hard (his phone was in his pocket, whoops) before he can shuffle his body back down to Kurt's again, hesitating only a second before laying back over him, and now -
Kurt groans very softly and Blaine whispers, "Jesus Jesus Jesus," because he can feel the soft skin of Kurt's thighs against his own, he can feel the damp touch of Kurt's erection, Kurt must be very aware of Blaine's because it feels like it's practically glowing with heat against Kurt's lower belly, it's gone nuclear and Blaine can't think in sentences anymore.
Kurt closes his eyes for a second, lets his head back against the pillow, says, "It's just ridiculous, you are just ridiculous, even your sweat smells amazing and that just shouldn't be possible."
It's a good thing that Kurt does like the smell of Blaine's sweat, because he's been overheated with overeagerness since the first time Kurt kissed him hello. Blaine's arms are shaking, and he finds out that his voice is too when he says, "That's because I inject myself with cologne at regular intervals throughout the day."
Kurt starts laughing, his body jumping under Blaine's and Blaine feels his mouth sag open at the way it jogs Kurt's dick against him and slithers Kurt's skin against his own, and when Kurt sucks a breath in Blaine takes the opportunity to kiss him, sinking down on his elbows, letting them press close. Kurt drops his thighs open, gives a soft grunt into the kiss as Blaine shifts his hips, pressing against each other's erections now and Blaine's breath bursts against Kurt's mouth. Kurt starts laughing again. None of this is anything like how Blaine thought that sex would be. For one thing it's about ten billion times better.
He shifts his weight to an elbow to drag his body up Kurt's, and Kurt makes a little whining noise and his hands scrabble Blaine's sides for grip. Blaine grits his teeth, does not curse out loud, lets his body back and drags up again and Kurt's fingers run firmly up his spine and oh god fuck and he thinks he did say that out loud because Kurt's laughing, breathless broken laughter as his hand slides up Blaine's back and closes in his hair, arm wrapped around him, cupping the back of his skull and almost singing under his ear, "Blaine, Blaine, Blaine-"
Well, he's sixteen. Blaine comes shuddering and guttering and trying not to scream into Kurt's neck, while Kurt gives a shocked jerk underneath him, strokes his hair and keeps whispering his name like a question against his forehead. Blaine's head drops, his neck feels like it's come unattached in some important way. For a moment he feels so spent he might just pass out on top of his boyfriend, until he realises that if he does that Kurt will probably never let him have sex with him again. He shakes his head, his breath snorting, trying to remember himself. Kurt -
Stares up at him, mute pleading eyes, and Blaine feels down between their bodies, finds Kurt's still-hard cock. Kurt's entire body jerks backwards and he makes a high shocked noise, and within two strokes Blaine's found the right grip, the right rhythm, firm and determined and he looks into Kurt's eyes and makes him come, his fingers digging tight into Blaine's shoulders, keening high and sharp until the noise breaks and Blaine worries for a second as Kurt's body sags panting against the bed that he might have actually just broken Kurt's voice and Kurt will never forgive him.
Then Kurt breathes, "Oh, my god." and Blaine grins his relief, lowers his head, runs his thumb over Kurt's cheek and kisses him. Kurt folds his arms around Blaine's neck, hums happily into the kiss, his body pliable and heavy and loose-limbed like sex is the best warm-up exercise in the world. Which it is, actually. Blaine could dance to New York and back again right now. But that would involve letting go of Kurt so it's not going to happen.
He lets his body sink into Kurt's and encounters wetness, cringes back a little and looks down: oh. Gravity has dictated that Kurt's taken most of the mess, and he shuffles back on his elbows to look down with Blaine at his own stomach, eyebrows raised and mouth pursed, like he's trying to understand why he's not more grossed out by this. Blaine strokes his side, and kisses his shoulder because it's there, and Kurt drops his head onto his, sighs.
The music plays, low and loving, and Blaine listens to it for a while with an arm around Kurt's back, stroking his bare skin in a way he never has been able to before. Everything feels really right, really natural and calming and like it was always meant to be like this. He doesn't believe in fate but he does believe that he, they, have been insanely lucky in a global population of billions to find each other in the crowd, so lucky that his throat hurts.
"You chose these songs for us?" he says quietly, and Kurt shifts closer into his side, says, "If you tease then we're never doing that again."
"No, no. Make me a copy?"
"Okay," Kurt whispers, and his fingers trail down Blaine's side. "Blaine?"
"Hm?" Kurt's skin is warm and the way he smells makes Blaine understand what he meant about his sweat; he smells of male sex, of sweat and skin and come, but in such a good way that he makes Blaine feel hungry.
". . . it's actually beginning to dry on me now and it's a bit disgusting. If you don't mind."
"Oh. Shower?"
"Yes. You're coming too."
"Okay." He doesn't want Kurt to ever go anywhere without him again.
Kurt sits up properly, and looks around his bedroom with his eyes just puzzled, like he's trying to understand where he might have seen it before. "That . . . I didn't think it would be like that."
"I liked it," Blaine says, small and uncertain. Kurt turns to him, puts a hand on his face and kisses him.
"Of course I liked it, it was - it was better than I thought it would be, it was, I don't know. You think it's going to be like something in a movie." Somehow between the front door and here his eyes have gone sea green and Blaine doesn't know how he does that trick, one day he'll understand which lighting does what to Kurt's irises but until then he'll just have to stare sort of mesmerised by them. "It's . . . I don't know. More personal." He runs a hand down Blaine's arm, looks down to follow his own fingers on Blaine's skin. "It would be different with other people, wouldn't it? There's only you and me in all the world who'll be that. Am I making sense? I think you unplugged some really important wires in my brain."
The laugh comes out soft on his breath, because he is so glad if that undid Kurt even half as much as it did Blaine. "No. I know what you mean." He brushes Kurt's hair off his forehead and watches his face, the flick of his eyes to follow his hand, the way he blinks and focuses on Blaine's eyes again, and says, "I hope . . . when I remember this, for the rest of my life, and I know I will. I hope I remember it right."
Kurt looks back at him, still and calm and naked, smiling just a little, just a little proud, pleased with the both of them and where they've travelled together, back straight and head a little tilted, throat bared for Blaine with no fear and a little bit of a dare in his eyes. He'll always be this, Blaine thinks. Hopes. He'll always trust Blaine this much, love him this much, always look back at him with no fear and only dangerous optimism in his eyes.
"Shower," Kurt says, climbing over Blaine and taking his hand, tugging him off the bed with him, barefoot across the room. Blaine watches how his shoulder blades work as he walks, and lower, how his ass moves, and he's really just astonished by the concept of Kurt naked, he's just - he should be in a museum. Except Blaine doesn't want other people to have him, so.
"This would be a really bad time for your dad to unexpectedly come home."
"Yes, but he might actually be so shocked that you would have time to jump out of the window." Kurt says, tugging him into the bathroom. "I would try to defend you," he offers. "Just not very hard because it would be weird being naked in front of my dad."
"Naked and covered in . . . I should bring condoms next time."
"That would be the gentlemanly thing to do."
"Kurt?" Blaine says, while Kurt turns the shower on and tests the heat with a hand, shaking the water off it.
"Hm?"
He kisses the join of Kurt's shoulder and neck. "I love you."
He hears Kurt breathe, one slow breath in and out even over the hiss of water, and then Kurt's hand closes in his hair from behind. "I know," he says quietly, as Blaine wraps his arms around him, stepping closer to his back. "I know. I do too, I love you so much I don't even . . ."
Blaine buries his face in the back of Kurt's neck where he smells of their sex because Kurt's going to wash it off, and he doesn't know how to tell him that they have to do it again because he wants to be able to smell it on him again without sounding like a freak. It's ridiculous what happens to him around this boy. He believes in happy endings when he holds Kurt. He just believes in Kurt.
He hums into Kurt's warm skin, Let's go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love. Kurt laughs, turns to take his hands, pulls him into the shower.