Fic: Glee: Twenty-three Firsts (Kurt/Blaine, NC-17) - A Near Misses story 4a/5
Warning: this part (both posts) earns the fic's rating and is not safe for work.
Part one.
Part two.
Part three.
Title: "Twenty-three Firsts" 4/5 [on the AO3]
Author: flaming muse
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC-17 this part
Word count: 13,000 this part, 54,000 overall
Summary: Friends, places, and conversations: twenty-three firsts for Kurt and Blaine. A Near Misses story.
Spoilers: all of Near Misses, which includes elements of canon through 3x22 ("Goodbye")
Notes: set just after Near Misses (and assumes "Facebook Official")
Disclaimers: The characters belong to various corporate Powers That Be. I make absolutely no profit from playing with them.
Distribution: Please ask.
Feedback is lovely!
15. Ohio Date
The date started well enough, even if Mercedes - who had come over theoretically for final outfit approval, but Kurt was sure it was more to see if Blaine met her standards, since she hadn't spent much time with him at Sugar's party and since she had to know Kurt wouldn't let her change what he was wearing - insisted on answering the front door so that Kurt could make an entrance.
That certainly suited his own preferences for creating a moment, and so he got to see Blaine looking bowled over when Kurt reached the bottom of the stairs, only it wasn't because just Kurt was impeccably dressed - which Blaine had to be getting used to by now, Kurt knew - but because Mercedes was giving Blaine an approving kiss on his cheek before she waved her fingers at Kurt and left them alone.
Blaine watched her leave with an expression of astonishment on his face and kept staring at the door even after she closed it behind her.
"Everything all right?" Kurt asked, growing a little miffed that Blaine's attention was diverted. There was getting used to Kurt's incredible fashion sense, and then there was ignoring it.
"Yes, uh - " Blaine checked to be sure there wasn't anyone else within sight in the house, then leaned forward and gave Kurt a long, soft, slow kiss that made Kurt's toes curl in his boots and his fingers dig into Blaine's coat. It was so lush and tender, so sweet that he could barely breathe, barely think, barely keep his feet on the ground. All he could do was cling to Blaine and get lost in it.
When it was over, he blinked his eyes open to see Blaine beaming at him. Blaine, his boyfriend, his sometimes knight in shining armor, somehow in his very own front hall, looking handsome and just so happy to be there to take him out.
"She told me I'm doing a good job," Blaine said.
"You are," Kurt said, feeling like he was in a dream, because he'd lived off of imagining a scene so close to this one for so many years. He had a charming, handsome, caring, talented boyfriend right there in his house in Lima. "And she can't have you. You're taken."
Blaine laughed and offered Kurt his arm. "Yes, I am. By you. Are you ready?"
Kurt swallowed down his pounding heart, nodded, and allowed himself to be guided to Blaine's waiting car.
Everything felt wonderful and warm as they drove, Blaine's hand stretched across the gearshift to hold Kurt's on his thigh, and at first the mall was a perfect place to be spending time. It wasn't the array of boutiques and consignment shops in New York, but Kurt had spent enough time in the mall over the years to know how to find just the sorts of special things he was looking for. Blaine was a good companion, too: untiring, happy to hold bags, and apparently not at all bored by Kurt's meandering but deliberate path through the stores he chose.
It was wonderful not to be shopping in Ohio as one of a group of girls, too, because no matter how he'd been considered in high school, no matter how easily he'd been drawn back into that pattern of socialization at the party the night before, he was not a girl or an accessory to them. With Blaine, he could just be himself, like he always was.
And yet Kurt couldn't help but notice that the sales clerk gave him a disapproving stare when he ran his hands down Blaine's back to smooth the sweater he was making Blaine try on. He was brought up short when he remembered he shouldn't reach out for Blaine's hand to stay together when they walked through a crush of teens milling around outside of the trendy fashion chain of the moment. He felt a pang of loss when they sat across from each other with a restorative cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll to share and tucking his calf against Blaine's like he usually did felt like a risk instead of a comfort.
It wasn't a date. It wasn't a time to flirt and smile, touch their feet together or sit a little too close. It wasn't anything like they were able to do in New York.
It was a very nice platonic day out in Ohio with his very attractive and entirely untouchable boyfriend.
Kurt watched a group of high school students in Westerville letter jackets walk by and felt very out of place, more than he ever had. He didn't want to fit in here, but he suddenly felt like even though he had a boyfriend and a wonderful life he still couldn't have them here. He and Blaine couldn't actually be themselves, even now.
Instead they had an anemic reflection of what they had at school, and it left him feeling cold and sad, undernourished, like a plant fading without enough sunlight.
At least it was only temporary.
Blaine jostled his leg gently with his own. "Are you okay? You're quiet."
"This is strange," Kurt said, focusing back on Blaine.
"The cinnamon roll?" Blaine asked. He pulled it apart on his napkin. "I think it's a little undercooked."
Kurt waved his fingers around them. "Being on a date here. New Yorkers don't stare at anything. I think I've counted a dozen people staring at my jeans alone."
"They are amazing," Blaine said. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "And they make your legs look even better than usual."
"Thank you," Kurt said, feeling himself flush but thrilled Blaine had noticed, "but that right there is an example. You wouldn't have had to care who overheard in New York."
Blaine nodded thoughtfully and had a sip of his coffee. "I know, but we're not there; we're here."
"I know." Kurt pushed his paper cup away on the tabletop with the tips of his fingers. "It's fine. We'll be back in a few days, and this is still nice, being with you."
"I think so," Blaine said, smiling at him in that warm way he always did, and it was beginning to mean all sorts of things about safety and being home that Kurt was intoxicated by and completely unable to resist.
But he could also see two girls look at his new Westwood sweater with a sneer from over Blaine's shoulder, and he felt that weight on his chest the way he always used to in high school. He didn't fit here. He didn't care, he wasn't going to change, but he still felt it.
Temporary. It was temporary.
"Where would you like to go to dinner?" Blaine asked. "I was planning on Breadstix, because Finn said you used to go there a lot, but if there's something else you'd like it is completely up to you."
Kurt thought about sitting at a table across from Blaine with a waitress who would watch them suspiciously, with sub-par food, and with no opportunity at all to show any affection to each other besides with their eyes, and he just didn't feel like doing it. He would, because he wanted to spend the time with Blaine, but he just didn't want to. He was used to more. He wanted more. He didn't like being unable to have it.
"I don't care," he said. "Breadstix is fine."
Blaine cleared his throat nervously and said, "There's another option. I'm not sure how you'll feel about it."
"What's that?" Kurt said, surprised by Blaine's sudden discomfort.
"My parents aren't home," Blaine said. "They left this morning and won't be back until Saturday. We could… if you wanted, we could go to my house. I know it's not a date, and I want to take you out. I like taking you out. But this is really strange, and you don't seem happy, and I just want to be with you, so…"
Kurt stared at him for the span of a breath, and then he couldn't stop his smile from spreading. A place with no one to bother them, no one to glare at them, no one to judge them, no one to see a kiss, no one to care but them. It sounded like heaven. He bounced up straight in his chair. "Yes, please. Let's go to your house. Can we cook dinner together?"
Blaine laughed, a light-hearted and very welcome sound. "Wait until you see the kitchen. I don't think I could stop you from cooking."
16. The Anderson House
Blaine's kitchen was amazing. Like the front hall, which Kurt had walked through on the way into the house, it was large, impeccably tasteful, and perfectly neat. It was staged like it was in a magazine, with a bowl of perfect oranges artfully placed on the polished, honey-colored-granite-topped island. The six-burner cooktop, the built-in coffee machine, and the double ovens were gleaming stainless steel, while the rest of the appliances were carefully disguised behind panels that matched the dark cherry cabinets. It was as sterile and cold as a photograph. It was incredible.
Kurt couldn't decide whether he wanted to stand in the doorway and admire every pull, every finish, every coordinating bar stool at the island, every inch of mirror-bright stone or whether he wanted to throw open all of the cabinets and use every burner and appliance at his reach. It was almost too beautiful to use, almost too beautiful not to use.
Blaine seemed to have no such concerns, but then again he was used to it. He lived there. He just walked in, plunked their two paper shopping bags onto the long stretch of counter by the sink, and started to pull out the ingredients they'd picked up on the store on the way over.
"Kurt?" he asked over his shoulder when Kurt continued to stand in the doorway with his eyes wide and his breath caught in his throat.
"Sorry," Kurt said, making himself move. The kitchen wasn't any less overwhelming standing in the middle of it, but running his hand along the ogee edge of the cool, liquid-smooth stone counter got him over his nerves about it being too perfect to mess up by cooking. He had to cook in this kitchen. It would be a dream come true. "You were right."
Blaine set the container of eggs down next to the bag. "About what?"
"That you wouldn't be able to stop me from cooking in here," Kurt said with a helpless laugh, and Blaine grinned over at him.
"I knew it."
Kurt stepped over to him and began to sort the groceries. He'd bought the ingredients for dinner omelets without knowing what wonders this kitchen would have let him create, and he wondered if it was worth trying to whip up a soufflé instead. But then Blaine came up behind him and slid his arms around his waist, his chest against Kurt's back, and Kurt knew as he shivered at the touch that there was no sense in making anything that required his concentration. It would be a total disaster. He was going to be too distracted by Blaine.
Blaine kissed the side of Kurt's throat in a gentle touch and nuzzled his nose against his hair. "Hi," he said, his voice going husky.
Kurt closed his eyes for a moment as the single, gravely word traveled through his veins and out along his skin. He hadn't come here for this, he had chosen to go to Blaine's house just to have time with him where they didn't have to worry about anyone else, but he suddenly felt like he was tinder-dry and ready to catch fire after a week - a lifetime - of being parched for affection, and he twisted around in Blaine's hold, caught Blaine's perfect, slightly raspy cheek in his palm, and kissed him at first with great precision and care because he wanted to show how much this mattered, and then hard, harder, as much as he could because he finally could.
Blaine groaned against his lips and pulled him closer before backing him against the sharp edge of the counter, and he kissed Kurt back with a passion and need that would have been overwhelming if Kurt didn't feel the same way. He felt like he'd been forcing himself to be one shadow of himself or another for days - Kurt the respectful son, Kurt the almost-girl, Kurt the chaste boyfriend, and he knew it hadn't been that long, but in some ways it felt like a lifetime - and now he didn't have to. Now he could just do what he wanted, and what he wanted was to kiss Blaine.
"Kurt," Blaine said, one hand sliding lower to grip Kurt's hip while the other tangled in Kurt's hair and kept him steady. His mouth was so hot and a little desperately awkward on Kurt's. "God, Kurt."
Kurt could feel his blood rushing like a torrent through him, his arousal surging into life, and a whimper was the most coherent response he could give. He felt dizzy from the touch. He felt like he might faint. He felt like he might fly. He wondered if he'd ever be used to this, to his body driving him and it being okay, because it was, because it was Blaine, because this wasn't empty at all, because this was a way to express his feelings, not just a break from them.
And this was Blaine wanting to express his feelings, too, his feelings about Kurt, which they'd been having to keep at bay all week.
"I've missed this," Blaine said with a low laugh. He mouthed along Kurt's jaw and down his throat, and Kurt drew in a sharp, shaking breath at the sensation. "The way you smell. The way you taste."
"Blaine," Kurt said helplessly, running his hands up and down Blaine's strong back. He'd missed it, too, being wanted, being close, being able to touch as much as he wished. He'd felt wrapped up and muffled by other people's expectations, but now there was none of that. There was only them here.
"I'm happy - " Blaine unbuttoned the collar of Kurt's shirt, the sure movements of his fingers making Kurt's knees weak at the entirely accurate assumption that he was just allowed to do that without asking, the first person who had been. " - we got to do other things, Kurt." He pushed the fabric aside and dipped his mouth to the skin that had just been bared, and Kurt held him close and stroked the nape of Blaine's neck, feeling the muscles and tendons there flex beneath the skin. "Not just this. I wanted all of that. But I missed this, too."
"Me, too," Kurt assured him, threading his fingers through Blaine's hair and getting a shiver in response.
"Fuck," Blaine said, almost a whisper, and crowded in closer against him. He looked up at Kurt, his eyes dark, and kissed him again with a fierce determination. "I don't - I can blow you. I want to." He kissed the edge of Kurt's mouth, the tender spot beneath his ear that always made his breath catch. "Let me. Right here."
Kurt's head spun at the thought of Blaine on his knees, his mouth so amazingly fervent and hot on him the way it always was, but something about the idea felt wrong. "Blaine, I - "
Blaine leaned into him, his thigh pressing against Kurt's nascent erection. "You'll like it. I promise you'll like it." There was a needy thread in his voice that Kurt wasn't sure how to process.
"I know I would," Kurt said with an almost hysterical laugh, because the thought that he wouldn't was ridiculous. Blaine would make sure he would love it.
"Then why aren't you saying yes?" Blaine asked. He lifted his head from Kurt's throat, which made it a little easier for Kurt to think and a lot harder for him to find the right words, because there was a hurt blooming in Blaine's eyes that he wanted to make disappear. "We have time alone together for the first time in days, and why aren't you saying yes?"
"Because - " Kurt started, trying to figure out what he wanted and how to say it.
Blaine watched him, waiting, looking increasingly more unsure, and Kurt didn't want him to look like that. He didn't want Blaine to feel even an inkling of insecurity around him. That was the whole point. Kurt knew he had been asking Blaine to hold back around him in public in ways that weren't entirely natural to him, and now for once there was no reason for either of them to hold back. And Kurt didn't want to.
"Because," Kurt said, taking a breath and running his fingers through Blaine's hair to soothe them both, "we have hours. And as much as I'd really, really like what you're offering, I want to take hours. I want to have dinner together, I want you to show me around your house so I can see where you grew up, and then I want to go to your room and take hours with each other." He watched the movement of his fingertips and felt suddenly nervous. Maybe he was asking for something Blaine didn't want, the idea of getting to take advantage this big house they had at their disposal, with no homework, no parents, no hall-mates, no deadlines, no classes, nothing to bother them. Kurt knew he was a dreamer, a romantic. Maybe Blaine was more practical to want to get off quickly and then spend the rest of their time before his curfew doing other things, but… "Can we take hours?" he asked softly.
Blaine stared at him, frozen. He didn't move, didn't even blink, and then his eyes went liquid and dark, his face crumpled, and his embrace turned from a seduction into one of his enveloping hugs. He buried his face against Kurt's shoulder and said, "Of course we can. I'm sorry."
"You really don't need to apologize," Kurt murmured against his hair.
"I wasn't thinking," Blaine said with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry."
"Blaine, you don't have to - " Kurt began again.
Blaine cut him off with a firm kiss. "I'm crazy about you," he said, looking directly into Kurt's eyes with something like gratitude.
Kurt's smile was wobbly from the intensity of Blaine's expression, from the melancholy fact that Blaine still wasn't talking about love with him, and from the suspicion that they had happened upon a new scar that goddamn Sebastian had left, Sebastian who had probably never wanted to do anything special with Blaine. "I feel the same way about you," he promised.
"I know," Blaine said, smiling as he leaned in again, and they traded a lingering series of much less fiery kisses and caresses until Kurt finally was sure Blaine was okay and he, himself, would be able to stand on his own two feet without swooning.
The specifics of cooking dinner with Blaine in the Andersons' kitchen were much like what he'd experienced cooking with him in his own house, minus the robotic good manners Blaine had put on in his terror and plus the extravagant array of cooking utensils and equipment that would put a Food Network kitchen to shame. Mostly, Kurt took the lead, delegating chopping of ingredients and fetching of pans to his agreeable sous-chef and rewarding swift compliance with a kiss. They were a good team, and dinner went smoothly.
They ate their meal of savory omelets, frisée salads, and fresh crusty bread at the breakfast nook table, their free hands linked together beside their plates and their feet tangled beneath the table, and Kurt found himself unable to stop smiling. He could manage to tamp it down to an acceptable curl at the corner of his mouth, but he couldn't stop it entirely.
He'd loved having Blaine at his house for a meal with his family. It had made his heart swell in his chest to see his boyfriend there at the table with them, nearly a part of the family, especially once Blaine had relaxed enough that he was acting mostly like himself. It was almost what he'd always imagined when he dreamed of having a boyfriend to bring home for holidays. It was wonderful to have someone sitting by his side and helping him tell stories, jumping up to take part in clearing the dishes and making his dad start to thaw with his irresistible good nature.
But this was part of what he'd imagined, too, a little further down the line: he and his significant other alone in their elegant house, having an intimate but casual dinner with linen napkins like the ones Blaine had brought out for them, sparkling water in crystal wine glasses, and a pair of candles on the table casting them both in flattering, romantic light. Even a simple meal was imbued with a sense of occasion, because they made it that way. And then the night didn't have to be over.
His own house was the actual present, part of life home from college with family around and in the way, but this was the future. Maybe it was the future, anyway. It was still a long way off in Kurt's life before he could have anything like this, a home and a husband of his own, even if Blaine stayed with him, but it brought it a little closer to be able to have this moment. It felt more possible, less of a fantasy to be hoped for and more of a goal to be worked toward.
And it was honestly just amazing to watch Blaine in the candles' glow enjoying the meal they had prepared together and smiling back at him like he was a miracle in the flesh for being there with him. Kurt felt that smile deep into his chest.
Ever the gentleman, Blaine offered to wash the dishes after they were finished eating, and Kurt, also a gentleman, offered to help him. So they rolled up their sleeves and companionably cleaned up the kitchen, and when they were finished if Kurt found himself sighing dreamily at the wiped counters and the gleaming sink, empty once more, he decided it wasn't problematic for their relationship if he was having lustful thoughts about a room and not another actual person, as long as he didn't let it color his view of Blaine. It wouldn't be acceptable to date him for his kitchen if everything else between them faded.
But, he thought as he swept his palm along the sleek counter one last time, he could certainly enjoy the room as an added bonus on vacations in Ohio. There was nothing wrong with that.
Blaine turned from shutting off the lights over the cooktop, slid his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and walked gracefully toward him in that slow stride he had that was almost like dancing. He looked older, more sure, a part of the future Kurt was imagining as well as this very moment in his life.
Kurt found himself pinned to the counter by how warm his heart felt and how beautiful Blaine looked in the low light, how certain of himself and of Kurt, and he knew in an instant if Blaine kissed him again he'd be putty in his hands. And it had nothing to do with the kitchen; it was entirely about this dream of his they were living out minute by minute together. It was entirely about Blaine.
But Blaine either didn't notice or didn't take advantage of the way Kurt was drawn so helplessly to him. He simply smiled and said, "Shall I show you the house?"
Kurt nodded, cleared his throat, and replied, "Please."
The rest of the house was in much of the same traditional, elegant style as the kitchen. The dining room was a picture of staid luxury in cream and gold. The hallway runner was a rich swath of navy oriental carpet. The living room was slightly warmer in honey yellow and robin's egg blue, but as pretty as it was Kurt found himself wanting to wrap his arms around himself from the chill of it all. There was no warmth or personality anywhere.
Kurt might be annoyed when Finn put his feet up on the coffee table or his dad pulled out that ugly old afghan his grandmother had knitted when he was cold watching television at night, but even if some days he felt like the people living in his house seemed to go out of their way to make it look shabbier than necessary, he also knew he could work on a bedazzling project down at the kitchen table without worrying about anything.
In this house, a single errant bead rolling onto the floor would be a catastrophe. A child's finger-painting, like the one his dad had hung framed on his bedroom wall for years of Kurt's youth, would have been unthinkable. It was a house to admire, but the more he saw of it it hardly seemed like a home to live in.
The beauty of the kitchen didn't make up for the rest of it.
"Here's the den," Blaine said, leading him into a room near the back of the house. It was small and cozy, with dark leather couches and a cherry cabinet with a flat-screen television on top. "This is where we watch TV."
"It's nice," Kurt said politely. It was a bit too painfully preppy for his taste, but it was the first room in which he could almost imagine a miniature Blaine playing quietly with blocks in the corner.
He drifted over to the display of pictures on the wall in the corner. There was a well-balanced arrangement of Cooper's headshots and stills of him from what looked like various film or TV sets but only one picture of Blaine, a formal one of him in his Dalton uniform, standing in the back of a group of what were probably the Warblers. He looked very much the same as now, only his smile wasn't real at all in the picture.
Disappointed that he wasn't able to catch a glimpse of an earlier Blaine he didn't know, Kurt turned back to find Blaine watching him, looking almost as serious as he did in the photograph.
"So, this is where you spent a lot of time?" Kurt asked him lightly, wanting to chase away the shadows that were lurking in his eyes.
Blaine nodded and blew out a breath through his nose like he was calming himself. "Yes, although after we got the big piano I was in the library a lot more."
Kurt stepped forward and slipped his arm through Blaine's, hoping that room might have better memories. "Show me?" He was grateful when he got a smile in return.
The library was dark, with heavily draped windows and mahogany leather chairs and couch situated by the built-in bookcases, while the baby grand piano took over the bulk of the room.
"What an amazing room for practicing," Kurt said. He was a little jealous, he couldn't lie; he'd had to plunk his way through his piano lesson homework out in the middle of the house with his father pretending he wasn't listening.
"It's out of the way, too. I didn't disturb anyone here when I was playing." Blaine sat down on the glossy piano bench.
"You play very well," Kurt told him. "I don't know how that would bother anyone."
Blaine ducked his head and touched his fingertips to the keys. "Thank you." He pressed a few chords and settled into something soft and classical. It sounded to Kurt's ears like Chopin. "My parents liked that I was good at it and could put it on my college apps, but they didn't always want to hear it when they had people over for dinner."
"I don't know," Kurt said, walking slowly around the room. The bookshelves were tidy, with perfect little knick-knacks and a few framed photos scattered among the various volumes of literature. "They could have hired you for background music and bragged about having a live musician while they were entertaining."
Chuckling, Blaine's fingers skipped over the keys, and the Chopin turned into Katy Perry. "I don't think they liked my set list."
Kurt smiled at him over his shoulder before looking more closely at the pictures: one of two people in '80s clothing, clearly Blaine's parents from early in their marriage; one of Cooper in a cap and gown; another formal portrait of Blaine in his Dalton uniform, this time by himself; and, ah, one of a teenage Cooper in front of a new car with his arm around a boy in a Brooks Brothers sweater vest. Kurt smiled at the tiny, earnest little Blaine.
He just didn't understand why there were so few pictures of Blaine around. He was certainly photogenic enough. But there were no candid pictures of any of the family anywhere, and the ones of Blaine seemed to have so little to do with who he was.
"I've been working on this, though," Blaine said a little shyly, the music pausing and then switching from pop to Cole Porter, "You'd Be So Nice to Come Home To" quickly seguing into "Let's Do It, Let's Fall in Love," and then into "You Do Something to Me."
"Blaine," Kurt said with delight, not sure how much he should read into the choice of songs but still thrilled by them, because he loved the composer so much and because they were all love songs, even if Blaine didn't mean the words exactly about him. He spun around, his hands clasped in front of him and his breath shallow.
Blaine shook his head, kept playing, and said, "You've been talking about him. It's not like it's Gershwin."
Kurt walked over to the bench, sat beside him, and waited until Blaine turned his face to look over before he caught his jaw and leaned in to kiss him. Despite how chaste the gesture was, the music stopped with a clatter of notes from the piano and a soft sigh from Blaine as he kissed him back so very earnestly.
"It's still de-lovely," Kurt told him with a smile when he pulled back a few inches. "Thank you for learning them for me."
"I'm terrible at Gershwin," Blaine replied, soft as a whisper, like it was important.
Kurt's mind raced, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. All night in this big, cold house, Blaine had been in turns needy, nervous, and watchful, as well as his usual sweet self. More was going on than Kurt understood. More was clearly going on than was about him. "Did you play Gershwin for Sebastian?"
Blaine jerked under Kurt's hands on his shoulders, and he turned back to the keys. "Once. He, uh - it was better if I stuck to classical." He started in on some Chopin again.
Kurt rubbed his hand up and down Blaine's back and thought for a moment before asking as gently as he possibly could, "Did you have Sebastian here a lot?" He didn't know what Sebastian's problems with Blaine had been, because it was unthinkable to Kurt to be anything less than thrilled with a private recital, but clearly he had done damage in this area, too.
Flinching, Blaine didn't look back at him. A flush crept up his throat and high onto his cheeks. "Tonight isn't about him, Kurt. He's not important."
"No," Kurt agreed. "But you are." He stroked over Blaine's back and felt the vibrating tension in the muscles there. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
Blaine drew in a slow breath, and his hands stilled on the keys. Then he turned on the bench so that he was facing Kurt and said very firmly, "I'm really happy you are here. That's what I want to tell you. You're amazing. You make me happy, and you're what I want."
"You're what I want, too," Kurt whispered in reply, his heart suddenly jumping in his throat. He wished Blaine would talk to him about Sebastian if he was still weighing on Blaine's heart, but he couldn't make him if he didn't want to. At least he was saying good things about Kurt. "But I also want you to know you can talk to me."
"I do." Blaine reached out to take Kurt's hands in his own. His fingers were a little cold, and Kurt held onto them securely to warm them. "But there's nothing to say. It's nothing bad. This is just better." He looked down at their hands and then back up at Kurt's face and said almost sadly, "Everything I have with you is better."
Kurt didn't know many of the details of Blaine's relationship with Sebastian and certainly didn't know what memories the night was bringing up, but his imagination was more than sharp enough to paint a rough picture of what it might have been like to spend time with a remote boyfriend who didn't care all that much in a cold house where nobody seemed to care all that much, really, if the paucity of pictures and the fact that his parents left at all when Blaine was home for vacation was any indication.
Even the idea of it left Kurt feeling lonely and unspecial, and that was the last thing he wanted for Blaine, because the whole point of Blaine was that he was exceptionally special. He just didn't seem to know it.
Maybe he didn't know it because nobody told him.
Kurt knew he could tell Blaine he loved him. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. He could tell him that. He could give him that. He knew it was true, because he'd felt these feelings long before they started dating, and they'd only grown. He knew why he couldn't stop smiling, why he couldn't stop thinking of him. He knew why he wanted him in his arms, in his home, with his friends and family. He knew why Blaine was a bright figure in his life, even if Kurt wasn't blinded to his faults. He was absolutely in love. It wasn't the first time Kurt had fallen for someone, but it was the first time it was right.
But he also knew that Blaine had a bad history around love with Sebastian, and he knew there had to be a reason that Blaine hadn't brought it up again since that huge, awful fight that had started it all between them.
And Kurt knew he was always so stupidly quick to fall for boys. It had only been a month. People didn't tell each other they loved them when they'd been together a month, no matter what happened in the movies. This wasn't a movie. This was real life. He had to act like an adult instead of being totally swept away.
So he didn't bare the secrets of his heart; he just acted on them. He clung to Blaine's hands and murmured, "Everything I have with you is perfect, Blaine."
"Kurt," Blaine said with quiet amazement, and Kurt leaned in and met his kiss, because Blaine was special, he was special to Kurt, and he wanted Blaine to know it.
One of Blaine's hands came up to cup Kurt's cheek, and it was cool and trembling a little against his skin, but when they pulled away again Blaine was smiling like he didn't have a care in the world, and Kurt had to smile right back. He couldn't stop himself. Blaine was full of light, and when he showed it he was utterly irresistible.
"Can we go upstairs and see your room now?" Kurt asked. He wasn't sure if it was too fast or not to make the offer, but with the way Blaine's eyes lit up with relief he was assured that it was the right suggestion.
Blaine took his hand and led him through the house and up the stairs, pointing out the various rooms they passed but not stopping until they passed through the door to what clearly was Blaine's bedroom. It was decorated like much of the rest of the house, attractively enough but without much specific personality, but Kurt would have known the sweater thrown over the side chair and the book bag beneath it from an array of thousands.
"So this is it," Blaine said, gesturing around them at the dark walls and bed with its plaid bedspread and slightly disarrayed pillows. "My room."
"I see," Kurt said. He walked slowly through the space, taking in the old prints and the formal Warblers' photograph, the school books on the nightstand, the ratty Tolkien paperbacks and dish of seashells and polished stones on his shelf, and the random pencils and dropped socks on the floor, the odds and ends of a college-age student who hadn't tidied for a guest.
He found, as much as he valued order and neatness, that he loved seeing Blaine's imprint here, the first place in the house that felt lived in. The irony that Blaine didn't actually live here but in New York was not lost on him.
Still, this was Blaine's room, and the mixture of formality and intimate little insights into what he treasured made Kurt feel like he was getting to see right into him, in a way, into the combination of things that made him himself.
It was an honor to be there, to be let in when Blaine used to be so very good at not showing the depths of his heart at all, not even letting on that they were there beneath the polished surface.
"You kissed me in my room," Kurt said, completing his circuit and coming to a halt in front of Blaine, who was showing his apprehension again in the tight set of his shoulders and the watchful sharpness in his eyes. "May I kiss you in yours?"
Blaine let out a hushed laugh and stepped in close, slipping a hand around Kurt's waist. "You never have to ask me that, Kurt."
Kurt shook his head a little and said, "I'm not going to take it for granted," and when Blaine's eyes went warm in response, he leaned in and dipped his mouth to Blaine's.
He wanted it to be a gentle reassurance instead of a heated demand, but even so the kiss went on and on and on, so sweet it made Kurt's chest ache and his eyelids squeeze tightly shut like he could hold back his heart if he just kept them closed. It wasn't that easy, not when he was getting so used to the way Blaine felt in his arms like he belonged there, but when Blaine pulled away to mouth at Kurt's jaw Kurt made himself step backwards. He needed to do this right. He wanted this to be something special, because it could be.
"Sorry, I - " Blaine began, looking confused.
Kurt bent down to unlace his boots and quickly slip them off of his feet. He raised his eyebrows as Blaine stood there and watched him. "I'm not done kissing you, but I'd really like to be doing it on the bed."
"Oh." Blaine rushed to toe his own shoes off. "Oh!"
His fondness escaping in a laugh, Kurt set his shoes aside and touched Blaine's arm before he got on the bed. "Let's get this off, too," Kurt said, gently urging Blaine's sweater over his head and leaving him in the finely woven grey tee he was wearing beneath, all the better for feeling close to him. "Much better."
"This, too," Blaine said. He frowned at the complicated buttons and toggles on the black-and-white color-blocked front of Kurt's sweater, his fingers hovering over them uncertainly, and Kurt took pity on him and unfastened them on his own.
When Kurt had laid his sweater over the chair, Blaine hooked a gentle finger in the placket of Kurt's dress shirt and drew him onto the bed, smiling as he reached for him once more.
Kurt didn't let him take over, though, as much as he could feel his skin humming from the warmth in Blaine's eyes, and he slid on top of Blaine, bracketing his shoulders with his arms and threading his fingers into Blaine's soft, controlled hair. He smiled down into his face, sure in a way that made his heart feel steady even as it pounded in his chest, before kissing him again and again and again, warm and wet and lush.
"Kurt," Blaine gasped out as the minutes drew out, his hands clutching at Kurt's back and his body growing tense with need beneath him.
"I want to keep kissing you right now," Kurt said as he looked down into Blaine's hazy eyes. "Is that all right?"
"Yes," Blaine told him without a second's delay, sliding his foot up Kurt's calf and making Kurt's eyelids droop with the pleasure of it. "But I…"
Kurt pressed his lips softly to the corner of Blaine's mouth. "Let me kiss you," he murmured, hopeful and nervous all at once to make the request. "Please. We have the time. I want to use it."
Looking a little overwhelmed, Blaine seemed to struggle to draw in a breath, but he nodded, and his eyes drifted shut as soon as Kurt's mouth was on his again.
Kurt wasn't sure what he wanted from the kisses, only that he wasn't ready to let them spiral into sex yet. He wanted to show Blaine how important he was, how much he mattered, how much he was in Kurt's heart. He wanted to show him that this was more than just about feeling good but about feeling cared for. He wanted to show him that he may have been surrounded by people for so long who didn't seem to see who he was beneath it all but that now, now, Kurt loved every bit of him.
So he kissed Blaine and kissed him and kissed him until his own heart was pounding and the hair on his arms was standing on end, and finally when Blaine's restless caresses and softly rolling hips were about to make Kurt's gentleness snap into something far more desperate, Blaine let out a low sigh of a moan, his hands in Kurt's hair, and all but melted beneath him, kissing him back eagerly but no longer grasping for more.
Kurt's heart throbbed in his chest with almost painful joy. That was it. That was what he wanted but didn't know to look for. That was exactly it, Blaine focusing on kissing instead of pushing further. He didn't need to push, they'd get there, but he wanted Blaine to feel this, too, all that Kurt was giving him, and not be caught up in what he thought he was supposed to be doing. And he finally was.
It made the languorous movements of their mouths even better when it was only accompanied by their rasping breaths and gently moving fingers in each other's hair. It made Blaine's body beneath his even more of a temptation, not because Kurt wasn't drawn to his usual restless energy and eagerness but because he was also enchanted by these new subtle catches of his breath and the way he tilted his face into the delicate caress of Kurt's thumb. It made every inch of Kurt's own body thrum and tighten with the slide of Blaine's tongue along his, the feather-soft touch of Blaine's fingers in his hair, and the steady, racing heartbeats pounding together through their clothes where their chests touched.
It made everything sharper and clearer, not a tidal wave of arousal to sweep them away, not yet, but a focusing of his attention until there was nothing in his mind, nothing in his heart, other than Blaine right there with him.
He stayed there, kissing as much as he wanted, until slowly, when it felt right, Kurt began to pull at Blaine's clothes, caressing the wonderful abundance of skin that was revealed as he worked.
First to be gone had to be Blaine's shirt, so that Kurt could mouth down past the thudding pulse in Blaine's throat and keep going, down his firm chest, peppering kisses over his heart and along the trembling muscles of his stomach. Next, Kurt carefully unfastened Blaine's watch, rubbing his lips against the delicate skin of his inner wrist and getting a very satisfying gasp from Blaine before setting the accessory aside on the table. Then went Blaine's beautifully tailored slacks and the coordinating argyle socks underneath, which made Kurt smile with an intense burst of affection before he returned to run his hands up Blaine's legs from ankle to thigh, mapping out hair and bone and muscle with his palms.
And then he looked up the length of Blaine's pliant body to meet his dark, almost drunk-looking eyes as he slid off his boxer-briefs as well, leaving him bare and beautiful on the sheets. He was such a dream for Kurt, this gorgeous boy lying there wanting him, letting him touch however he wanted in this quiet room on this big bed with no interruptions, and the way he was looking at Kurt, like he couldn't quite believe what was happening but was entirely agreeable to every bit of it made Kurt feel like he could do no wrong.
Kurt knew he could, of course, but he also knew that if he believed in himself and Blaine wanted him there was no need to let self-doubt enter into his thoughts. He had never gotten anything he wanted by doubting himself.
As soon as he started to crawl up beside him, though, Blaine said, "No," and Kurt froze in a moment of dismay, overwhelmed by it in an instant.
"No," Blaine said again in that enticingly husky tone of voice, pulling at his arm and reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "Your clothes, too." He leaned up on one elbow to get closer. "I want to be able to touch you, Kurt. Please don't make me wait to touch you."
Kurt's breath rushed out of him, and he let out a wavering smile as he nodded. "All right," he said, because he didn't really care as long as they weren't stopping. Not only did he want to be close to Blaine, but he wanted to give this to him, to show him exactly how he felt in a language Blaine might be able to accept.
Together, they stripped off Kurt's clothes, too, although Blaine's fingers were slow and uncoordinated, and they laughed together as he hindered more than he helped. But finally Kurt's shirt was off of his shoulders, his jeans and underwear skimmed down his legs and kicked onto the floor with the comforter, and their bared bodies tucked against each other once more.
They kissed for a while - long, sumptuous kisses getting ever more deep and fervent until Blaine's breath was coming in gasps and Kurt's body felt like it was charged with electricity from the slide of skin against skin - and when he couldn't stand it anymore he moved away from Blaine's mouth and started working his way downwards, kissing the hollow between his collar bones, pressing his mouth over Blaine's thundering heart, curving his hands over Blaine's shoulders and arms, tracing the dip of Blaine's navel with the tip of his tongue, and smiling, smiling as Blaine kept murmuring his name in wonder and touching him wherever he could.
He kissed along the delicious line of muscle above Blaine's hip, smoothed his palm down Blaine's strong thigh, and then watched Blaine's eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the base of Blaine's straining erection and licked up it before taking it into his mouth.
"Kurt," Blaine breathed, like he was surprised.
Kurt mmmed around him, felt Blaine's body tense at the vibration, and gave himself a moment to savor it all - the connection, the bone-deep desire for it for them both, the stretch of his lips and the rasp of his breath through his nose - before he went to work.
He started slowly, kissing, licking, and sucking along his length before taking him deeper, relishing this still new intimacy of Blaine's skin instead of latex against his lips and tongue. Blaine felt so alive, throbbing and hot and real, there, not distant, not separated from him at all, and the salt-bitter taste of him flooded Kurt with a dark wave of arousal, because he was getting to know it. It meant something. It meant Blaine, this person he cared so much about, this person he wanted so badly to make happy, this person who made him feel so good, this person he just wanted to love. He'd never had that kind of knowledge about another person, not to where just the smell of his neck or the taste of his skin could make the hair on his body rise on end.
"Kurt," Blaine moaned again, one hand in the sheets and the other resting on the back of Kurt's head and drifting through his hair.
Working him with his lips and the flat of his tongue the way he was learning Blaine liked, Kurt concentrated on making Blaine tremble and gasp, but the way the thick length of him felt filling his mouth set off sparks behind his eyes, because this wasn't just any boy he was getting to touch, it wasn't just any blow job, it was Blaine, and he couldn't separate what he was doing from what he was feeling.
He felt so much that it was hard to keep it all inside.
He fought to focus on what was happening instead of what was in his heart, and Blaine's reactions certainly helped with that, because it was hard for Kurt to keep thinking about anything but yes when Blaine was moaning his name louder and louder as his hips twitched and his fingers clutched at the sheets. Kurt pulled back to suck around the head, stroked him in short jerks, felt his head spin and his mouth water as Blaine struggled to keep himself still, and thought yes yes yes.
"Kurt. Kurt. Oh, god, Kurt, that's so good. That feels so good. Fuck, Kurt." Blaine seemed to remember that there was no one to hear them, for once, and no need to be quiet, and Kurt wished he could soundproof his room in college so that could have this kind of response all of the time. There was no room for any doubt that Blaine was enjoying himself.
Every breath out was a gasp, a groan, Kurt's name sharp and low when Kurt added an extra swirl of his tongue and sank down further around him. Blaine's back twisted against the mattress, and his guiding fingers on the back of Kurt's head curled into his hair on each down stroke. It didn't feel like pressure or a demand; it felt like appreciation. It felt like Blaine was so happy it was him driving him absolutely crazy.
It was just what Kurt wanted sex to be: hot, real, and full of meaning
"Kurt - Kurt - " The muscles of Blaine's stomach were trembling beneath Kurt's hand, and Kurt ignored the ache in his jaw and the throb of his own erection and worked him harder, faster, wanting more of everything Blaine was giving him, wanting to give Blaine everything he possibly could. "No, Kurt, you need to stop, I'm going to - "
Panting for breath, Kurt pulled off and looked up his gorgeous body at him, watching Blaine's chest heave and his sex-dark eyes pleading for something quite different from his words. He pressed two, three kisses to Blaine's hip as Blaine's hand curled around his cheek.
"Can you - " Blaine swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried again. "I want you to fuck me. Please, Kurt, I want to feel you in me."
Kurt took Blaine's hand in his own and pressed a hard kiss into his palm and another against the heel of his hand. "I want that, too," he promised, feeling the pull inside of him as sure and hard to stop as a magnet. He wanted that closeness. He wanted that pleasure. But he wanted something else, as well. "But we have all night. Can't we start with this? I want to do this for you. I want to give this to you."
"I don't need - " Blaine started, his eyes fluttering shut as Kurt kissed his stomach, soft and closed-mouthed, simply unable to stop touching him.
"We have all night," Kurt said again. He knew he could make Blaine agree by coaxing him with his mouth and fingers, but that wasn't fair. He had to let Blaine choose. "Please? Let me? If you'd like it."
Blaine opened his eyes again, searched Kurt's face, and finally laughed a little, desperate and self-conscious. "God, Kurt, I want it so much. You have no idea. It feels incredible."
Kurt smiled up at him, relieved and honestly quite delighted by the praise, and replied, "Thank you."
And then he dipped his head and went back to work, no longer teasing at all, just giving Blaine what he wanted with every flex of his tongue against his erection, every bob of his head, every twist of his fingers, every suck and swallow, every extra bit deeper he tried to take him, letting Blaine's body and voice urge him on until Blaine was pushing up into his mouth in subtle rocking movements and his voice was so rough he hardly sounded like himself. Kurt chased every reaction, each twitch and moan, drowning in them, drawing them out, half-lost in his taste and feel, even more lost in the quest to give Blaine everything he possibly could.
"I can't - I can't - Kurt, please, I can't - "
Kurt tightened his hand on Blaine's hip, took him deep enough his eyes threatened to water, and silently assured him he could.
"God, Kurt," Blaine gasped out, in warning or in gratitude, and he came in thick pulses on Kurt's tongue.
Breathing through his nose, Kurt swallowed around him, stroked him and soothed him through his orgasm as he best he could, and finally pulled off and wiped his wet mouth on his wrist.
He was so turned on, so hard he was trembling, but he could only smile with satisfaction at the sprawl of his boyfriend on his rumpled sheets, Blaine's breathing still coming fast but his limbs limp with release. Blaine was flushed, sweaty, and sated, just what Kurt wanted to see, wanted to have given him.
Angling his hips away so he wasn't tempted or frustrated by rubbing against him, Kurt crawled back up the bed and slipped into the space left empty by Blaine's flung-out arms. It wouldn't take much to follow him into his orgasm, but that wasn't what he needed most. He just needed to be close to him. He could take care of the needs of his body after the needs of his heart.
Onto the rest of the section!
Part one.
Part two.
Part three.
Title: "Twenty-three Firsts" 4/5 [on the AO3]
Author: flaming muse
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC-17 this part
Word count: 13,000 this part, 54,000 overall
Summary: Friends, places, and conversations: twenty-three firsts for Kurt and Blaine. A Near Misses story.
Spoilers: all of Near Misses, which includes elements of canon through 3x22 ("Goodbye")
Notes: set just after Near Misses (and assumes "Facebook Official")
Disclaimers: The characters belong to various corporate Powers That Be. I make absolutely no profit from playing with them.
Distribution: Please ask.
Feedback is lovely!
15. Ohio Date
The date started well enough, even if Mercedes - who had come over theoretically for final outfit approval, but Kurt was sure it was more to see if Blaine met her standards, since she hadn't spent much time with him at Sugar's party and since she had to know Kurt wouldn't let her change what he was wearing - insisted on answering the front door so that Kurt could make an entrance.
That certainly suited his own preferences for creating a moment, and so he got to see Blaine looking bowled over when Kurt reached the bottom of the stairs, only it wasn't because just Kurt was impeccably dressed - which Blaine had to be getting used to by now, Kurt knew - but because Mercedes was giving Blaine an approving kiss on his cheek before she waved her fingers at Kurt and left them alone.
Blaine watched her leave with an expression of astonishment on his face and kept staring at the door even after she closed it behind her.
"Everything all right?" Kurt asked, growing a little miffed that Blaine's attention was diverted. There was getting used to Kurt's incredible fashion sense, and then there was ignoring it.
"Yes, uh - " Blaine checked to be sure there wasn't anyone else within sight in the house, then leaned forward and gave Kurt a long, soft, slow kiss that made Kurt's toes curl in his boots and his fingers dig into Blaine's coat. It was so lush and tender, so sweet that he could barely breathe, barely think, barely keep his feet on the ground. All he could do was cling to Blaine and get lost in it.
When it was over, he blinked his eyes open to see Blaine beaming at him. Blaine, his boyfriend, his sometimes knight in shining armor, somehow in his very own front hall, looking handsome and just so happy to be there to take him out.
"She told me I'm doing a good job," Blaine said.
"You are," Kurt said, feeling like he was in a dream, because he'd lived off of imagining a scene so close to this one for so many years. He had a charming, handsome, caring, talented boyfriend right there in his house in Lima. "And she can't have you. You're taken."
Blaine laughed and offered Kurt his arm. "Yes, I am. By you. Are you ready?"
Kurt swallowed down his pounding heart, nodded, and allowed himself to be guided to Blaine's waiting car.
Everything felt wonderful and warm as they drove, Blaine's hand stretched across the gearshift to hold Kurt's on his thigh, and at first the mall was a perfect place to be spending time. It wasn't the array of boutiques and consignment shops in New York, but Kurt had spent enough time in the mall over the years to know how to find just the sorts of special things he was looking for. Blaine was a good companion, too: untiring, happy to hold bags, and apparently not at all bored by Kurt's meandering but deliberate path through the stores he chose.
It was wonderful not to be shopping in Ohio as one of a group of girls, too, because no matter how he'd been considered in high school, no matter how easily he'd been drawn back into that pattern of socialization at the party the night before, he was not a girl or an accessory to them. With Blaine, he could just be himself, like he always was.
And yet Kurt couldn't help but notice that the sales clerk gave him a disapproving stare when he ran his hands down Blaine's back to smooth the sweater he was making Blaine try on. He was brought up short when he remembered he shouldn't reach out for Blaine's hand to stay together when they walked through a crush of teens milling around outside of the trendy fashion chain of the moment. He felt a pang of loss when they sat across from each other with a restorative cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll to share and tucking his calf against Blaine's like he usually did felt like a risk instead of a comfort.
It wasn't a date. It wasn't a time to flirt and smile, touch their feet together or sit a little too close. It wasn't anything like they were able to do in New York.
It was a very nice platonic day out in Ohio with his very attractive and entirely untouchable boyfriend.
Kurt watched a group of high school students in Westerville letter jackets walk by and felt very out of place, more than he ever had. He didn't want to fit in here, but he suddenly felt like even though he had a boyfriend and a wonderful life he still couldn't have them here. He and Blaine couldn't actually be themselves, even now.
Instead they had an anemic reflection of what they had at school, and it left him feeling cold and sad, undernourished, like a plant fading without enough sunlight.
At least it was only temporary.
Blaine jostled his leg gently with his own. "Are you okay? You're quiet."
"This is strange," Kurt said, focusing back on Blaine.
"The cinnamon roll?" Blaine asked. He pulled it apart on his napkin. "I think it's a little undercooked."
Kurt waved his fingers around them. "Being on a date here. New Yorkers don't stare at anything. I think I've counted a dozen people staring at my jeans alone."
"They are amazing," Blaine said. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "And they make your legs look even better than usual."
"Thank you," Kurt said, feeling himself flush but thrilled Blaine had noticed, "but that right there is an example. You wouldn't have had to care who overheard in New York."
Blaine nodded thoughtfully and had a sip of his coffee. "I know, but we're not there; we're here."
"I know." Kurt pushed his paper cup away on the tabletop with the tips of his fingers. "It's fine. We'll be back in a few days, and this is still nice, being with you."
"I think so," Blaine said, smiling at him in that warm way he always did, and it was beginning to mean all sorts of things about safety and being home that Kurt was intoxicated by and completely unable to resist.
But he could also see two girls look at his new Westwood sweater with a sneer from over Blaine's shoulder, and he felt that weight on his chest the way he always used to in high school. He didn't fit here. He didn't care, he wasn't going to change, but he still felt it.
Temporary. It was temporary.
"Where would you like to go to dinner?" Blaine asked. "I was planning on Breadstix, because Finn said you used to go there a lot, but if there's something else you'd like it is completely up to you."
Kurt thought about sitting at a table across from Blaine with a waitress who would watch them suspiciously, with sub-par food, and with no opportunity at all to show any affection to each other besides with their eyes, and he just didn't feel like doing it. He would, because he wanted to spend the time with Blaine, but he just didn't want to. He was used to more. He wanted more. He didn't like being unable to have it.
"I don't care," he said. "Breadstix is fine."
Blaine cleared his throat nervously and said, "There's another option. I'm not sure how you'll feel about it."
"What's that?" Kurt said, surprised by Blaine's sudden discomfort.
"My parents aren't home," Blaine said. "They left this morning and won't be back until Saturday. We could… if you wanted, we could go to my house. I know it's not a date, and I want to take you out. I like taking you out. But this is really strange, and you don't seem happy, and I just want to be with you, so…"
Kurt stared at him for the span of a breath, and then he couldn't stop his smile from spreading. A place with no one to bother them, no one to glare at them, no one to judge them, no one to see a kiss, no one to care but them. It sounded like heaven. He bounced up straight in his chair. "Yes, please. Let's go to your house. Can we cook dinner together?"
Blaine laughed, a light-hearted and very welcome sound. "Wait until you see the kitchen. I don't think I could stop you from cooking."
16. The Anderson House
Blaine's kitchen was amazing. Like the front hall, which Kurt had walked through on the way into the house, it was large, impeccably tasteful, and perfectly neat. It was staged like it was in a magazine, with a bowl of perfect oranges artfully placed on the polished, honey-colored-granite-topped island. The six-burner cooktop, the built-in coffee machine, and the double ovens were gleaming stainless steel, while the rest of the appliances were carefully disguised behind panels that matched the dark cherry cabinets. It was as sterile and cold as a photograph. It was incredible.
Kurt couldn't decide whether he wanted to stand in the doorway and admire every pull, every finish, every coordinating bar stool at the island, every inch of mirror-bright stone or whether he wanted to throw open all of the cabinets and use every burner and appliance at his reach. It was almost too beautiful to use, almost too beautiful not to use.
Blaine seemed to have no such concerns, but then again he was used to it. He lived there. He just walked in, plunked their two paper shopping bags onto the long stretch of counter by the sink, and started to pull out the ingredients they'd picked up on the store on the way over.
"Kurt?" he asked over his shoulder when Kurt continued to stand in the doorway with his eyes wide and his breath caught in his throat.
"Sorry," Kurt said, making himself move. The kitchen wasn't any less overwhelming standing in the middle of it, but running his hand along the ogee edge of the cool, liquid-smooth stone counter got him over his nerves about it being too perfect to mess up by cooking. He had to cook in this kitchen. It would be a dream come true. "You were right."
Blaine set the container of eggs down next to the bag. "About what?"
"That you wouldn't be able to stop me from cooking in here," Kurt said with a helpless laugh, and Blaine grinned over at him.
"I knew it."
Kurt stepped over to him and began to sort the groceries. He'd bought the ingredients for dinner omelets without knowing what wonders this kitchen would have let him create, and he wondered if it was worth trying to whip up a soufflé instead. But then Blaine came up behind him and slid his arms around his waist, his chest against Kurt's back, and Kurt knew as he shivered at the touch that there was no sense in making anything that required his concentration. It would be a total disaster. He was going to be too distracted by Blaine.
Blaine kissed the side of Kurt's throat in a gentle touch and nuzzled his nose against his hair. "Hi," he said, his voice going husky.
Kurt closed his eyes for a moment as the single, gravely word traveled through his veins and out along his skin. He hadn't come here for this, he had chosen to go to Blaine's house just to have time with him where they didn't have to worry about anyone else, but he suddenly felt like he was tinder-dry and ready to catch fire after a week - a lifetime - of being parched for affection, and he twisted around in Blaine's hold, caught Blaine's perfect, slightly raspy cheek in his palm, and kissed him at first with great precision and care because he wanted to show how much this mattered, and then hard, harder, as much as he could because he finally could.
Blaine groaned against his lips and pulled him closer before backing him against the sharp edge of the counter, and he kissed Kurt back with a passion and need that would have been overwhelming if Kurt didn't feel the same way. He felt like he'd been forcing himself to be one shadow of himself or another for days - Kurt the respectful son, Kurt the almost-girl, Kurt the chaste boyfriend, and he knew it hadn't been that long, but in some ways it felt like a lifetime - and now he didn't have to. Now he could just do what he wanted, and what he wanted was to kiss Blaine.
"Kurt," Blaine said, one hand sliding lower to grip Kurt's hip while the other tangled in Kurt's hair and kept him steady. His mouth was so hot and a little desperately awkward on Kurt's. "God, Kurt."
Kurt could feel his blood rushing like a torrent through him, his arousal surging into life, and a whimper was the most coherent response he could give. He felt dizzy from the touch. He felt like he might faint. He felt like he might fly. He wondered if he'd ever be used to this, to his body driving him and it being okay, because it was, because it was Blaine, because this wasn't empty at all, because this was a way to express his feelings, not just a break from them.
And this was Blaine wanting to express his feelings, too, his feelings about Kurt, which they'd been having to keep at bay all week.
"I've missed this," Blaine said with a low laugh. He mouthed along Kurt's jaw and down his throat, and Kurt drew in a sharp, shaking breath at the sensation. "The way you smell. The way you taste."
"Blaine," Kurt said helplessly, running his hands up and down Blaine's strong back. He'd missed it, too, being wanted, being close, being able to touch as much as he wished. He'd felt wrapped up and muffled by other people's expectations, but now there was none of that. There was only them here.
"I'm happy - " Blaine unbuttoned the collar of Kurt's shirt, the sure movements of his fingers making Kurt's knees weak at the entirely accurate assumption that he was just allowed to do that without asking, the first person who had been. " - we got to do other things, Kurt." He pushed the fabric aside and dipped his mouth to the skin that had just been bared, and Kurt held him close and stroked the nape of Blaine's neck, feeling the muscles and tendons there flex beneath the skin. "Not just this. I wanted all of that. But I missed this, too."
"Me, too," Kurt assured him, threading his fingers through Blaine's hair and getting a shiver in response.
"Fuck," Blaine said, almost a whisper, and crowded in closer against him. He looked up at Kurt, his eyes dark, and kissed him again with a fierce determination. "I don't - I can blow you. I want to." He kissed the edge of Kurt's mouth, the tender spot beneath his ear that always made his breath catch. "Let me. Right here."
Kurt's head spun at the thought of Blaine on his knees, his mouth so amazingly fervent and hot on him the way it always was, but something about the idea felt wrong. "Blaine, I - "
Blaine leaned into him, his thigh pressing against Kurt's nascent erection. "You'll like it. I promise you'll like it." There was a needy thread in his voice that Kurt wasn't sure how to process.
"I know I would," Kurt said with an almost hysterical laugh, because the thought that he wouldn't was ridiculous. Blaine would make sure he would love it.
"Then why aren't you saying yes?" Blaine asked. He lifted his head from Kurt's throat, which made it a little easier for Kurt to think and a lot harder for him to find the right words, because there was a hurt blooming in Blaine's eyes that he wanted to make disappear. "We have time alone together for the first time in days, and why aren't you saying yes?"
"Because - " Kurt started, trying to figure out what he wanted and how to say it.
Blaine watched him, waiting, looking increasingly more unsure, and Kurt didn't want him to look like that. He didn't want Blaine to feel even an inkling of insecurity around him. That was the whole point. Kurt knew he had been asking Blaine to hold back around him in public in ways that weren't entirely natural to him, and now for once there was no reason for either of them to hold back. And Kurt didn't want to.
"Because," Kurt said, taking a breath and running his fingers through Blaine's hair to soothe them both, "we have hours. And as much as I'd really, really like what you're offering, I want to take hours. I want to have dinner together, I want you to show me around your house so I can see where you grew up, and then I want to go to your room and take hours with each other." He watched the movement of his fingertips and felt suddenly nervous. Maybe he was asking for something Blaine didn't want, the idea of getting to take advantage this big house they had at their disposal, with no homework, no parents, no hall-mates, no deadlines, no classes, nothing to bother them. Kurt knew he was a dreamer, a romantic. Maybe Blaine was more practical to want to get off quickly and then spend the rest of their time before his curfew doing other things, but… "Can we take hours?" he asked softly.
Blaine stared at him, frozen. He didn't move, didn't even blink, and then his eyes went liquid and dark, his face crumpled, and his embrace turned from a seduction into one of his enveloping hugs. He buried his face against Kurt's shoulder and said, "Of course we can. I'm sorry."
"You really don't need to apologize," Kurt murmured against his hair.
"I wasn't thinking," Blaine said with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry."
"Blaine, you don't have to - " Kurt began again.
Blaine cut him off with a firm kiss. "I'm crazy about you," he said, looking directly into Kurt's eyes with something like gratitude.
Kurt's smile was wobbly from the intensity of Blaine's expression, from the melancholy fact that Blaine still wasn't talking about love with him, and from the suspicion that they had happened upon a new scar that goddamn Sebastian had left, Sebastian who had probably never wanted to do anything special with Blaine. "I feel the same way about you," he promised.
"I know," Blaine said, smiling as he leaned in again, and they traded a lingering series of much less fiery kisses and caresses until Kurt finally was sure Blaine was okay and he, himself, would be able to stand on his own two feet without swooning.
The specifics of cooking dinner with Blaine in the Andersons' kitchen were much like what he'd experienced cooking with him in his own house, minus the robotic good manners Blaine had put on in his terror and plus the extravagant array of cooking utensils and equipment that would put a Food Network kitchen to shame. Mostly, Kurt took the lead, delegating chopping of ingredients and fetching of pans to his agreeable sous-chef and rewarding swift compliance with a kiss. They were a good team, and dinner went smoothly.
They ate their meal of savory omelets, frisée salads, and fresh crusty bread at the breakfast nook table, their free hands linked together beside their plates and their feet tangled beneath the table, and Kurt found himself unable to stop smiling. He could manage to tamp it down to an acceptable curl at the corner of his mouth, but he couldn't stop it entirely.
He'd loved having Blaine at his house for a meal with his family. It had made his heart swell in his chest to see his boyfriend there at the table with them, nearly a part of the family, especially once Blaine had relaxed enough that he was acting mostly like himself. It was almost what he'd always imagined when he dreamed of having a boyfriend to bring home for holidays. It was wonderful to have someone sitting by his side and helping him tell stories, jumping up to take part in clearing the dishes and making his dad start to thaw with his irresistible good nature.
But this was part of what he'd imagined, too, a little further down the line: he and his significant other alone in their elegant house, having an intimate but casual dinner with linen napkins like the ones Blaine had brought out for them, sparkling water in crystal wine glasses, and a pair of candles on the table casting them both in flattering, romantic light. Even a simple meal was imbued with a sense of occasion, because they made it that way. And then the night didn't have to be over.
His own house was the actual present, part of life home from college with family around and in the way, but this was the future. Maybe it was the future, anyway. It was still a long way off in Kurt's life before he could have anything like this, a home and a husband of his own, even if Blaine stayed with him, but it brought it a little closer to be able to have this moment. It felt more possible, less of a fantasy to be hoped for and more of a goal to be worked toward.
And it was honestly just amazing to watch Blaine in the candles' glow enjoying the meal they had prepared together and smiling back at him like he was a miracle in the flesh for being there with him. Kurt felt that smile deep into his chest.
Ever the gentleman, Blaine offered to wash the dishes after they were finished eating, and Kurt, also a gentleman, offered to help him. So they rolled up their sleeves and companionably cleaned up the kitchen, and when they were finished if Kurt found himself sighing dreamily at the wiped counters and the gleaming sink, empty once more, he decided it wasn't problematic for their relationship if he was having lustful thoughts about a room and not another actual person, as long as he didn't let it color his view of Blaine. It wouldn't be acceptable to date him for his kitchen if everything else between them faded.
But, he thought as he swept his palm along the sleek counter one last time, he could certainly enjoy the room as an added bonus on vacations in Ohio. There was nothing wrong with that.
Blaine turned from shutting off the lights over the cooktop, slid his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and walked gracefully toward him in that slow stride he had that was almost like dancing. He looked older, more sure, a part of the future Kurt was imagining as well as this very moment in his life.
Kurt found himself pinned to the counter by how warm his heart felt and how beautiful Blaine looked in the low light, how certain of himself and of Kurt, and he knew in an instant if Blaine kissed him again he'd be putty in his hands. And it had nothing to do with the kitchen; it was entirely about this dream of his they were living out minute by minute together. It was entirely about Blaine.
But Blaine either didn't notice or didn't take advantage of the way Kurt was drawn so helplessly to him. He simply smiled and said, "Shall I show you the house?"
Kurt nodded, cleared his throat, and replied, "Please."
The rest of the house was in much of the same traditional, elegant style as the kitchen. The dining room was a picture of staid luxury in cream and gold. The hallway runner was a rich swath of navy oriental carpet. The living room was slightly warmer in honey yellow and robin's egg blue, but as pretty as it was Kurt found himself wanting to wrap his arms around himself from the chill of it all. There was no warmth or personality anywhere.
Kurt might be annoyed when Finn put his feet up on the coffee table or his dad pulled out that ugly old afghan his grandmother had knitted when he was cold watching television at night, but even if some days he felt like the people living in his house seemed to go out of their way to make it look shabbier than necessary, he also knew he could work on a bedazzling project down at the kitchen table without worrying about anything.
In this house, a single errant bead rolling onto the floor would be a catastrophe. A child's finger-painting, like the one his dad had hung framed on his bedroom wall for years of Kurt's youth, would have been unthinkable. It was a house to admire, but the more he saw of it it hardly seemed like a home to live in.
The beauty of the kitchen didn't make up for the rest of it.
"Here's the den," Blaine said, leading him into a room near the back of the house. It was small and cozy, with dark leather couches and a cherry cabinet with a flat-screen television on top. "This is where we watch TV."
"It's nice," Kurt said politely. It was a bit too painfully preppy for his taste, but it was the first room in which he could almost imagine a miniature Blaine playing quietly with blocks in the corner.
He drifted over to the display of pictures on the wall in the corner. There was a well-balanced arrangement of Cooper's headshots and stills of him from what looked like various film or TV sets but only one picture of Blaine, a formal one of him in his Dalton uniform, standing in the back of a group of what were probably the Warblers. He looked very much the same as now, only his smile wasn't real at all in the picture.
Disappointed that he wasn't able to catch a glimpse of an earlier Blaine he didn't know, Kurt turned back to find Blaine watching him, looking almost as serious as he did in the photograph.
"So, this is where you spent a lot of time?" Kurt asked him lightly, wanting to chase away the shadows that were lurking in his eyes.
Blaine nodded and blew out a breath through his nose like he was calming himself. "Yes, although after we got the big piano I was in the library a lot more."
Kurt stepped forward and slipped his arm through Blaine's, hoping that room might have better memories. "Show me?" He was grateful when he got a smile in return.
The library was dark, with heavily draped windows and mahogany leather chairs and couch situated by the built-in bookcases, while the baby grand piano took over the bulk of the room.
"What an amazing room for practicing," Kurt said. He was a little jealous, he couldn't lie; he'd had to plunk his way through his piano lesson homework out in the middle of the house with his father pretending he wasn't listening.
"It's out of the way, too. I didn't disturb anyone here when I was playing." Blaine sat down on the glossy piano bench.
"You play very well," Kurt told him. "I don't know how that would bother anyone."
Blaine ducked his head and touched his fingertips to the keys. "Thank you." He pressed a few chords and settled into something soft and classical. It sounded to Kurt's ears like Chopin. "My parents liked that I was good at it and could put it on my college apps, but they didn't always want to hear it when they had people over for dinner."
"I don't know," Kurt said, walking slowly around the room. The bookshelves were tidy, with perfect little knick-knacks and a few framed photos scattered among the various volumes of literature. "They could have hired you for background music and bragged about having a live musician while they were entertaining."
Chuckling, Blaine's fingers skipped over the keys, and the Chopin turned into Katy Perry. "I don't think they liked my set list."
Kurt smiled at him over his shoulder before looking more closely at the pictures: one of two people in '80s clothing, clearly Blaine's parents from early in their marriage; one of Cooper in a cap and gown; another formal portrait of Blaine in his Dalton uniform, this time by himself; and, ah, one of a teenage Cooper in front of a new car with his arm around a boy in a Brooks Brothers sweater vest. Kurt smiled at the tiny, earnest little Blaine.
He just didn't understand why there were so few pictures of Blaine around. He was certainly photogenic enough. But there were no candid pictures of any of the family anywhere, and the ones of Blaine seemed to have so little to do with who he was.
"I've been working on this, though," Blaine said a little shyly, the music pausing and then switching from pop to Cole Porter, "You'd Be So Nice to Come Home To" quickly seguing into "Let's Do It, Let's Fall in Love," and then into "You Do Something to Me."
"Blaine," Kurt said with delight, not sure how much he should read into the choice of songs but still thrilled by them, because he loved the composer so much and because they were all love songs, even if Blaine didn't mean the words exactly about him. He spun around, his hands clasped in front of him and his breath shallow.
Blaine shook his head, kept playing, and said, "You've been talking about him. It's not like it's Gershwin."
Kurt walked over to the bench, sat beside him, and waited until Blaine turned his face to look over before he caught his jaw and leaned in to kiss him. Despite how chaste the gesture was, the music stopped with a clatter of notes from the piano and a soft sigh from Blaine as he kissed him back so very earnestly.
"It's still de-lovely," Kurt told him with a smile when he pulled back a few inches. "Thank you for learning them for me."
"I'm terrible at Gershwin," Blaine replied, soft as a whisper, like it was important.
Kurt's mind raced, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. All night in this big, cold house, Blaine had been in turns needy, nervous, and watchful, as well as his usual sweet self. More was going on than Kurt understood. More was clearly going on than was about him. "Did you play Gershwin for Sebastian?"
Blaine jerked under Kurt's hands on his shoulders, and he turned back to the keys. "Once. He, uh - it was better if I stuck to classical." He started in on some Chopin again.
Kurt rubbed his hand up and down Blaine's back and thought for a moment before asking as gently as he possibly could, "Did you have Sebastian here a lot?" He didn't know what Sebastian's problems with Blaine had been, because it was unthinkable to Kurt to be anything less than thrilled with a private recital, but clearly he had done damage in this area, too.
Flinching, Blaine didn't look back at him. A flush crept up his throat and high onto his cheeks. "Tonight isn't about him, Kurt. He's not important."
"No," Kurt agreed. "But you are." He stroked over Blaine's back and felt the vibrating tension in the muscles there. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
Blaine drew in a slow breath, and his hands stilled on the keys. Then he turned on the bench so that he was facing Kurt and said very firmly, "I'm really happy you are here. That's what I want to tell you. You're amazing. You make me happy, and you're what I want."
"You're what I want, too," Kurt whispered in reply, his heart suddenly jumping in his throat. He wished Blaine would talk to him about Sebastian if he was still weighing on Blaine's heart, but he couldn't make him if he didn't want to. At least he was saying good things about Kurt. "But I also want you to know you can talk to me."
"I do." Blaine reached out to take Kurt's hands in his own. His fingers were a little cold, and Kurt held onto them securely to warm them. "But there's nothing to say. It's nothing bad. This is just better." He looked down at their hands and then back up at Kurt's face and said almost sadly, "Everything I have with you is better."
Kurt didn't know many of the details of Blaine's relationship with Sebastian and certainly didn't know what memories the night was bringing up, but his imagination was more than sharp enough to paint a rough picture of what it might have been like to spend time with a remote boyfriend who didn't care all that much in a cold house where nobody seemed to care all that much, really, if the paucity of pictures and the fact that his parents left at all when Blaine was home for vacation was any indication.
Even the idea of it left Kurt feeling lonely and unspecial, and that was the last thing he wanted for Blaine, because the whole point of Blaine was that he was exceptionally special. He just didn't seem to know it.
Maybe he didn't know it because nobody told him.
Kurt knew he could tell Blaine he loved him. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. He could tell him that. He could give him that. He knew it was true, because he'd felt these feelings long before they started dating, and they'd only grown. He knew why he couldn't stop smiling, why he couldn't stop thinking of him. He knew why he wanted him in his arms, in his home, with his friends and family. He knew why Blaine was a bright figure in his life, even if Kurt wasn't blinded to his faults. He was absolutely in love. It wasn't the first time Kurt had fallen for someone, but it was the first time it was right.
But he also knew that Blaine had a bad history around love with Sebastian, and he knew there had to be a reason that Blaine hadn't brought it up again since that huge, awful fight that had started it all between them.
And Kurt knew he was always so stupidly quick to fall for boys. It had only been a month. People didn't tell each other they loved them when they'd been together a month, no matter what happened in the movies. This wasn't a movie. This was real life. He had to act like an adult instead of being totally swept away.
So he didn't bare the secrets of his heart; he just acted on them. He clung to Blaine's hands and murmured, "Everything I have with you is perfect, Blaine."
"Kurt," Blaine said with quiet amazement, and Kurt leaned in and met his kiss, because Blaine was special, he was special to Kurt, and he wanted Blaine to know it.
One of Blaine's hands came up to cup Kurt's cheek, and it was cool and trembling a little against his skin, but when they pulled away again Blaine was smiling like he didn't have a care in the world, and Kurt had to smile right back. He couldn't stop himself. Blaine was full of light, and when he showed it he was utterly irresistible.
"Can we go upstairs and see your room now?" Kurt asked. He wasn't sure if it was too fast or not to make the offer, but with the way Blaine's eyes lit up with relief he was assured that it was the right suggestion.
Blaine took his hand and led him through the house and up the stairs, pointing out the various rooms they passed but not stopping until they passed through the door to what clearly was Blaine's bedroom. It was decorated like much of the rest of the house, attractively enough but without much specific personality, but Kurt would have known the sweater thrown over the side chair and the book bag beneath it from an array of thousands.
"So this is it," Blaine said, gesturing around them at the dark walls and bed with its plaid bedspread and slightly disarrayed pillows. "My room."
"I see," Kurt said. He walked slowly through the space, taking in the old prints and the formal Warblers' photograph, the school books on the nightstand, the ratty Tolkien paperbacks and dish of seashells and polished stones on his shelf, and the random pencils and dropped socks on the floor, the odds and ends of a college-age student who hadn't tidied for a guest.
He found, as much as he valued order and neatness, that he loved seeing Blaine's imprint here, the first place in the house that felt lived in. The irony that Blaine didn't actually live here but in New York was not lost on him.
Still, this was Blaine's room, and the mixture of formality and intimate little insights into what he treasured made Kurt feel like he was getting to see right into him, in a way, into the combination of things that made him himself.
It was an honor to be there, to be let in when Blaine used to be so very good at not showing the depths of his heart at all, not even letting on that they were there beneath the polished surface.
"You kissed me in my room," Kurt said, completing his circuit and coming to a halt in front of Blaine, who was showing his apprehension again in the tight set of his shoulders and the watchful sharpness in his eyes. "May I kiss you in yours?"
Blaine let out a hushed laugh and stepped in close, slipping a hand around Kurt's waist. "You never have to ask me that, Kurt."
Kurt shook his head a little and said, "I'm not going to take it for granted," and when Blaine's eyes went warm in response, he leaned in and dipped his mouth to Blaine's.
He wanted it to be a gentle reassurance instead of a heated demand, but even so the kiss went on and on and on, so sweet it made Kurt's chest ache and his eyelids squeeze tightly shut like he could hold back his heart if he just kept them closed. It wasn't that easy, not when he was getting so used to the way Blaine felt in his arms like he belonged there, but when Blaine pulled away to mouth at Kurt's jaw Kurt made himself step backwards. He needed to do this right. He wanted this to be something special, because it could be.
"Sorry, I - " Blaine began, looking confused.
Kurt bent down to unlace his boots and quickly slip them off of his feet. He raised his eyebrows as Blaine stood there and watched him. "I'm not done kissing you, but I'd really like to be doing it on the bed."
"Oh." Blaine rushed to toe his own shoes off. "Oh!"
His fondness escaping in a laugh, Kurt set his shoes aside and touched Blaine's arm before he got on the bed. "Let's get this off, too," Kurt said, gently urging Blaine's sweater over his head and leaving him in the finely woven grey tee he was wearing beneath, all the better for feeling close to him. "Much better."
"This, too," Blaine said. He frowned at the complicated buttons and toggles on the black-and-white color-blocked front of Kurt's sweater, his fingers hovering over them uncertainly, and Kurt took pity on him and unfastened them on his own.
When Kurt had laid his sweater over the chair, Blaine hooked a gentle finger in the placket of Kurt's dress shirt and drew him onto the bed, smiling as he reached for him once more.
Kurt didn't let him take over, though, as much as he could feel his skin humming from the warmth in Blaine's eyes, and he slid on top of Blaine, bracketing his shoulders with his arms and threading his fingers into Blaine's soft, controlled hair. He smiled down into his face, sure in a way that made his heart feel steady even as it pounded in his chest, before kissing him again and again and again, warm and wet and lush.
"Kurt," Blaine gasped out as the minutes drew out, his hands clutching at Kurt's back and his body growing tense with need beneath him.
"I want to keep kissing you right now," Kurt said as he looked down into Blaine's hazy eyes. "Is that all right?"
"Yes," Blaine told him without a second's delay, sliding his foot up Kurt's calf and making Kurt's eyelids droop with the pleasure of it. "But I…"
Kurt pressed his lips softly to the corner of Blaine's mouth. "Let me kiss you," he murmured, hopeful and nervous all at once to make the request. "Please. We have the time. I want to use it."
Looking a little overwhelmed, Blaine seemed to struggle to draw in a breath, but he nodded, and his eyes drifted shut as soon as Kurt's mouth was on his again.
Kurt wasn't sure what he wanted from the kisses, only that he wasn't ready to let them spiral into sex yet. He wanted to show Blaine how important he was, how much he mattered, how much he was in Kurt's heart. He wanted to show him that this was more than just about feeling good but about feeling cared for. He wanted to show him that he may have been surrounded by people for so long who didn't seem to see who he was beneath it all but that now, now, Kurt loved every bit of him.
So he kissed Blaine and kissed him and kissed him until his own heart was pounding and the hair on his arms was standing on end, and finally when Blaine's restless caresses and softly rolling hips were about to make Kurt's gentleness snap into something far more desperate, Blaine let out a low sigh of a moan, his hands in Kurt's hair, and all but melted beneath him, kissing him back eagerly but no longer grasping for more.
Kurt's heart throbbed in his chest with almost painful joy. That was it. That was what he wanted but didn't know to look for. That was exactly it, Blaine focusing on kissing instead of pushing further. He didn't need to push, they'd get there, but he wanted Blaine to feel this, too, all that Kurt was giving him, and not be caught up in what he thought he was supposed to be doing. And he finally was.
It made the languorous movements of their mouths even better when it was only accompanied by their rasping breaths and gently moving fingers in each other's hair. It made Blaine's body beneath his even more of a temptation, not because Kurt wasn't drawn to his usual restless energy and eagerness but because he was also enchanted by these new subtle catches of his breath and the way he tilted his face into the delicate caress of Kurt's thumb. It made every inch of Kurt's own body thrum and tighten with the slide of Blaine's tongue along his, the feather-soft touch of Blaine's fingers in his hair, and the steady, racing heartbeats pounding together through their clothes where their chests touched.
It made everything sharper and clearer, not a tidal wave of arousal to sweep them away, not yet, but a focusing of his attention until there was nothing in his mind, nothing in his heart, other than Blaine right there with him.
He stayed there, kissing as much as he wanted, until slowly, when it felt right, Kurt began to pull at Blaine's clothes, caressing the wonderful abundance of skin that was revealed as he worked.
First to be gone had to be Blaine's shirt, so that Kurt could mouth down past the thudding pulse in Blaine's throat and keep going, down his firm chest, peppering kisses over his heart and along the trembling muscles of his stomach. Next, Kurt carefully unfastened Blaine's watch, rubbing his lips against the delicate skin of his inner wrist and getting a very satisfying gasp from Blaine before setting the accessory aside on the table. Then went Blaine's beautifully tailored slacks and the coordinating argyle socks underneath, which made Kurt smile with an intense burst of affection before he returned to run his hands up Blaine's legs from ankle to thigh, mapping out hair and bone and muscle with his palms.
And then he looked up the length of Blaine's pliant body to meet his dark, almost drunk-looking eyes as he slid off his boxer-briefs as well, leaving him bare and beautiful on the sheets. He was such a dream for Kurt, this gorgeous boy lying there wanting him, letting him touch however he wanted in this quiet room on this big bed with no interruptions, and the way he was looking at Kurt, like he couldn't quite believe what was happening but was entirely agreeable to every bit of it made Kurt feel like he could do no wrong.
Kurt knew he could, of course, but he also knew that if he believed in himself and Blaine wanted him there was no need to let self-doubt enter into his thoughts. He had never gotten anything he wanted by doubting himself.
As soon as he started to crawl up beside him, though, Blaine said, "No," and Kurt froze in a moment of dismay, overwhelmed by it in an instant.
"No," Blaine said again in that enticingly husky tone of voice, pulling at his arm and reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "Your clothes, too." He leaned up on one elbow to get closer. "I want to be able to touch you, Kurt. Please don't make me wait to touch you."
Kurt's breath rushed out of him, and he let out a wavering smile as he nodded. "All right," he said, because he didn't really care as long as they weren't stopping. Not only did he want to be close to Blaine, but he wanted to give this to him, to show him exactly how he felt in a language Blaine might be able to accept.
Together, they stripped off Kurt's clothes, too, although Blaine's fingers were slow and uncoordinated, and they laughed together as he hindered more than he helped. But finally Kurt's shirt was off of his shoulders, his jeans and underwear skimmed down his legs and kicked onto the floor with the comforter, and their bared bodies tucked against each other once more.
They kissed for a while - long, sumptuous kisses getting ever more deep and fervent until Blaine's breath was coming in gasps and Kurt's body felt like it was charged with electricity from the slide of skin against skin - and when he couldn't stand it anymore he moved away from Blaine's mouth and started working his way downwards, kissing the hollow between his collar bones, pressing his mouth over Blaine's thundering heart, curving his hands over Blaine's shoulders and arms, tracing the dip of Blaine's navel with the tip of his tongue, and smiling, smiling as Blaine kept murmuring his name in wonder and touching him wherever he could.
He kissed along the delicious line of muscle above Blaine's hip, smoothed his palm down Blaine's strong thigh, and then watched Blaine's eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the base of Blaine's straining erection and licked up it before taking it into his mouth.
"Kurt," Blaine breathed, like he was surprised.
Kurt mmmed around him, felt Blaine's body tense at the vibration, and gave himself a moment to savor it all - the connection, the bone-deep desire for it for them both, the stretch of his lips and the rasp of his breath through his nose - before he went to work.
He started slowly, kissing, licking, and sucking along his length before taking him deeper, relishing this still new intimacy of Blaine's skin instead of latex against his lips and tongue. Blaine felt so alive, throbbing and hot and real, there, not distant, not separated from him at all, and the salt-bitter taste of him flooded Kurt with a dark wave of arousal, because he was getting to know it. It meant something. It meant Blaine, this person he cared so much about, this person he wanted so badly to make happy, this person who made him feel so good, this person he just wanted to love. He'd never had that kind of knowledge about another person, not to where just the smell of his neck or the taste of his skin could make the hair on his body rise on end.
"Kurt," Blaine moaned again, one hand in the sheets and the other resting on the back of Kurt's head and drifting through his hair.
Working him with his lips and the flat of his tongue the way he was learning Blaine liked, Kurt concentrated on making Blaine tremble and gasp, but the way the thick length of him felt filling his mouth set off sparks behind his eyes, because this wasn't just any boy he was getting to touch, it wasn't just any blow job, it was Blaine, and he couldn't separate what he was doing from what he was feeling.
He felt so much that it was hard to keep it all inside.
He fought to focus on what was happening instead of what was in his heart, and Blaine's reactions certainly helped with that, because it was hard for Kurt to keep thinking about anything but yes when Blaine was moaning his name louder and louder as his hips twitched and his fingers clutched at the sheets. Kurt pulled back to suck around the head, stroked him in short jerks, felt his head spin and his mouth water as Blaine struggled to keep himself still, and thought yes yes yes.
"Kurt. Kurt. Oh, god, Kurt, that's so good. That feels so good. Fuck, Kurt." Blaine seemed to remember that there was no one to hear them, for once, and no need to be quiet, and Kurt wished he could soundproof his room in college so that could have this kind of response all of the time. There was no room for any doubt that Blaine was enjoying himself.
Every breath out was a gasp, a groan, Kurt's name sharp and low when Kurt added an extra swirl of his tongue and sank down further around him. Blaine's back twisted against the mattress, and his guiding fingers on the back of Kurt's head curled into his hair on each down stroke. It didn't feel like pressure or a demand; it felt like appreciation. It felt like Blaine was so happy it was him driving him absolutely crazy.
It was just what Kurt wanted sex to be: hot, real, and full of meaning
"Kurt - Kurt - " The muscles of Blaine's stomach were trembling beneath Kurt's hand, and Kurt ignored the ache in his jaw and the throb of his own erection and worked him harder, faster, wanting more of everything Blaine was giving him, wanting to give Blaine everything he possibly could. "No, Kurt, you need to stop, I'm going to - "
Panting for breath, Kurt pulled off and looked up his gorgeous body at him, watching Blaine's chest heave and his sex-dark eyes pleading for something quite different from his words. He pressed two, three kisses to Blaine's hip as Blaine's hand curled around his cheek.
"Can you - " Blaine swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried again. "I want you to fuck me. Please, Kurt, I want to feel you in me."
Kurt took Blaine's hand in his own and pressed a hard kiss into his palm and another against the heel of his hand. "I want that, too," he promised, feeling the pull inside of him as sure and hard to stop as a magnet. He wanted that closeness. He wanted that pleasure. But he wanted something else, as well. "But we have all night. Can't we start with this? I want to do this for you. I want to give this to you."
"I don't need - " Blaine started, his eyes fluttering shut as Kurt kissed his stomach, soft and closed-mouthed, simply unable to stop touching him.
"We have all night," Kurt said again. He knew he could make Blaine agree by coaxing him with his mouth and fingers, but that wasn't fair. He had to let Blaine choose. "Please? Let me? If you'd like it."
Blaine opened his eyes again, searched Kurt's face, and finally laughed a little, desperate and self-conscious. "God, Kurt, I want it so much. You have no idea. It feels incredible."
Kurt smiled up at him, relieved and honestly quite delighted by the praise, and replied, "Thank you."
And then he dipped his head and went back to work, no longer teasing at all, just giving Blaine what he wanted with every flex of his tongue against his erection, every bob of his head, every twist of his fingers, every suck and swallow, every extra bit deeper he tried to take him, letting Blaine's body and voice urge him on until Blaine was pushing up into his mouth in subtle rocking movements and his voice was so rough he hardly sounded like himself. Kurt chased every reaction, each twitch and moan, drowning in them, drawing them out, half-lost in his taste and feel, even more lost in the quest to give Blaine everything he possibly could.
"I can't - I can't - Kurt, please, I can't - "
Kurt tightened his hand on Blaine's hip, took him deep enough his eyes threatened to water, and silently assured him he could.
"God, Kurt," Blaine gasped out, in warning or in gratitude, and he came in thick pulses on Kurt's tongue.
Breathing through his nose, Kurt swallowed around him, stroked him and soothed him through his orgasm as he best he could, and finally pulled off and wiped his wet mouth on his wrist.
He was so turned on, so hard he was trembling, but he could only smile with satisfaction at the sprawl of his boyfriend on his rumpled sheets, Blaine's breathing still coming fast but his limbs limp with release. Blaine was flushed, sweaty, and sated, just what Kurt wanted to see, wanted to have given him.
Angling his hips away so he wasn't tempted or frustrated by rubbing against him, Kurt crawled back up the bed and slipped into the space left empty by Blaine's flung-out arms. It wouldn't take much to follow him into his orgasm, but that wasn't what he needed most. He just needed to be close to him. He could take care of the needs of his body after the needs of his heart.
Onto the rest of the section!