Hesitation Blues (2/5)
Title: Hesitation Blues (2/5)
Rating: NC-17 for smut in the last chapter
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Warnings: Blowjobs and talky, talky boys.
Word Count: 14k-ish total
Summary: Blaine tries to minimize distractions so he can figure out what to tell Kurt. Unfortunately, he puts Kurt in the "distraction" category.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5
They didn’t have much alone time during the next four days. Blaine was skittish about being alone with Kurt for the first two or three, but by day four, he missed him desperately and wanted some quiet time to relax and catch up. They went out for ice cream, which, in retrospect, was the worst possible idea Blaine had ever come up with. He was sick of coffee and they’d already eaten dinner in the commissary with a few other friends, and he wanted something soothing to go with some peaceful conversation with Kurt.
It wasn’t until he ordered his single-scoop mint chocolate chip that he realized. A chill traveled from the back of his neck down his spine, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the treat he was holding. He pondered exchanging his cone for a cup and decided that could turn out to be equally embarrassing. He decided to take the humiliation behind door number one and keep the cone.
It was too cold to walk and talk - Ice cream? What was he thinking? - so they sat at a table near the window and talked about school and watched passersby. Blaine’s stomach churned every time he met Kurt’s eyes. Kurt seemed supremely unselfconscious as he licked and sucked his peppermint cone, and the gently melting pink candy colored his lips and tongue a deeper and brighter shade. His light, silly laugh was one of the things Blaine loved about him, and Kurt was bubbling tonight. Maybe it was because it had been four days since they had time to relax in one another’s company.
“Is there something wrong with your ice cream?” Kurt said abruptly, his forehead creased with concern.
Blaine glanced down at the table littered with the sticky green napkins he’d used to catch and wipe up the drips from his neglected cone. He shrugged, then got up and tossed the remains of his ice cream in the nearest waste can. “To tell the truth, I didn’t really want ice cream. I just wanted to spend time with you, and I was tired of coffee.”
“Oh.” Kurt swirled his tongue around the small, rounded mound left of his peppermint, then began to use the very tip of his tongue to trace grooves into the surface. “Next time, we could go to Frisch’s. Do you want to leave?”
“No,” Blaine managed to say, hoping he didn’t sound like an elephant was sitting on his chest. “Take your time.”
“Thanks.” Kurt beamed gratefully and opened his mouth in an O to suck the rest of the soft, cold center out of the cone.
---
For the next week, Blaine tried to avoid Kurt without appearing to avoid him. He needed to get his head straight. Having Kurt around made him focus on Kurt, which was maybe the reason he was having so much trouble focusing on the real issue. Him. This was his fault, his hang-up, and his to fix.
It didn’t help that even when he was in class, or doing homework, or reading, or eating, or showering, or dressing, or any one of a million daily mundane activities, he often had an internal dialog going with Kurt: Can you believe how much of a brown-noser Ashton is? I can’t believe I had a moment of love for the second law of thermodynamics. What’s with the red peppers in the commissary? I’m sick of picking them out of my meals. Will you go into Westerville with me so I can get some razor blades?
He missed him.
Whenever they bumped into each other, Blaine felt the tempo of his heart speed up with affection and relief. He felt a hundred pounds lighter, and more times than not followed Kurt wherever he was going in pretense of having a similar destination. Kurt laughed and dished and sniped about classes and classmates and everything seemed normal and easy, and the contrast against every moment spent apart from Kurt made it almost painful. Kurt acted as though it was normal for them to bump into each other in the halls a couple times a day and not hang out. Blaine guessed it had become the new normal.
He hated it.
---
Blaine got up around 5 AM, showered, dressed in jeans and a warm wool sweater, and walked out to the track. The dark was beginning to lift into grey. He walked across the infield to the bleachers, where he climbed to the topmost level and waited for Kurt. Kurt ran four days a week. It wasn’t long before he saw his boyfriend in a turquoise track suit walking briskly toward him. When Kurt saw him, he did a little double-take, then burst into a smile so sweet and large it made the dawn dim. Kurt gave him an excited little wave, then started his run.
Blaine watched him circle the track. Graceful, long legs. Strong arms. He could hear Kurt breathing as he ran the length of the track closest to him, then silence as he moved out of earshot. He tried to imagine the bleachers full of people assembled for a football game or track meet, crowded, laughing, yelling encouragement. He tried to imagine Kurt slipping his hand in his, leading him underneath the bleachers, getting down on his knees, Blaine’s fly open, Kurt with his mouth on him. He couldn’t even get to the kneeling part. It swirled out into a grimy, hazy blur. Kurt on his knees was wrong in so many ways. His throat tightened, and he sat up straighter so he could breathe more easily.
He tried to imagine touching Kurt. He couldn’t not. Kurt’s slender energy naturally attracted him; he wants it tingling beneath his hands, everywhere, all the time. With Kurt’s mouth at his groin, though, most of Kurt would be out of reach. He could reach Kurt’s hair... oh, that would go over so very, very well. Maybe Kurt wouldn’t care, for once. Maybe he’d be completely absorbed in attention to Blaine’s dick.
That thought had him hunching his shoulders again. He didn’t like thinking of himself as an attachment to his dick. He liked lying in bed with Kurt, kissing, touching, letting his hands roam, listening to Kurt’s occasional gasp and hum; making those sounds intensify, then quieting; coming closer together, then farther apart; feeling Kurt tense and relax; having Kurt look at him with impatience, enthusiasm, desire... Making out with Kurt was like conducting a symphony. A blowjob sounded like playing a kazoo that you found on the ground somewhere.
Blaine leaned back, his elbows on the bleacher behind him. Kurt probably just wanted the experience, and Blaine was the natural person to turn to. It wasn’t personal.
He knew immediately upon having the thought that it was untrue, and unfair to both Kurt and himself.
He watched Kurt circle the far side of the track, heard him huffing rhythmically as he came around and headed down toward the far end again. Each time Kurt circled, his eyes went to Blaine for a moment, then back to the track.
Other runners were jogging out from the school. He watched Kurt’s pace slow. Blaine thought about how hard it had been to concentrate during classes, the friends he’d barely paid attention to; he’d been isolating, trying to work this over in his mind. It wasn’t good to be so distracted.
He looked up as Kurt walked the last lap and climbed toward Blaine, his feet clattering on the metal. Kurt’s face was flushed and he was breathing hard and sweating. He stood at a little distance and smiled at Blaine. “Good morning.”
Blaine smiled back. “You look happy.”
Kurt shrugged. “It was a good run. You made me push myself.” He came a bit closer. “What are you doing out here, so early?”
“Thinking.”
Kurt turned around and looked at the track, then back at Blaine. He held out his hand. Blaine got up and walked over to him, wrapped his hand around Kurt’s, and they walked back toward the school. The sun was up; the pink sky turned yellow, mellowing into a pale transparency. Blaine waited for Kurt to ask him what he’d been thinking about, but Kurt just looked sweaty and content, his hair flat and wet, perspiration condensing on his forehead and trickling down from his temples, his hand hot and damp in Blaine’s. Blaine pulled Kurt closer so their arms were pressed together. The heat from Kurt’s body warmed the space between them; the smell of Kurt had the same quality of a midsummer garden watered too late in the afternoon, thick and humid and alive.
The sexual fantasy didn’t exist that could compare to the solidity of this. He squeezed Kurt’s hand.
“Are you afraid to ask me what I was thinking?” It bothered him that he’d put so much distance between them that Kurt was content to leave him alone with his thoughts.
“A little.” Blaine’s stomach fell, until Kurt added, “I’m high from the run. Not thinking clearly yet.” He was still breathing hard. “I’ll try to listen. If you want to talk.” His blue eyes, pupils tight, turned to Blaine.
What was he going to say? I’ve been thinking about how much I hate the idea of your giving me a blowjob, but I’ll do it if you want me to.
“Or you could talk to me while I shower? Or we could meet after?” Kurt was still looking at him.
“No,” Blaine said. “This is good. This is what I needed.” He wrapped his hand tighter around Kurt’s and pushed his arm closer to Kurt’s warm body.
“Your sweater feels scratchy,” Kurt said. “It’s nice.”
They walked in contented silence back to the school.
Rating: NC-17 for smut in the last chapter
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Warnings: Blowjobs and talky, talky boys.
Word Count: 14k-ish total
Summary: Blaine tries to minimize distractions so he can figure out what to tell Kurt. Unfortunately, he puts Kurt in the "distraction" category.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5
They didn’t have much alone time during the next four days. Blaine was skittish about being alone with Kurt for the first two or three, but by day four, he missed him desperately and wanted some quiet time to relax and catch up. They went out for ice cream, which, in retrospect, was the worst possible idea Blaine had ever come up with. He was sick of coffee and they’d already eaten dinner in the commissary with a few other friends, and he wanted something soothing to go with some peaceful conversation with Kurt.
It wasn’t until he ordered his single-scoop mint chocolate chip that he realized. A chill traveled from the back of his neck down his spine, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the treat he was holding. He pondered exchanging his cone for a cup and decided that could turn out to be equally embarrassing. He decided to take the humiliation behind door number one and keep the cone.
It was too cold to walk and talk - Ice cream? What was he thinking? - so they sat at a table near the window and talked about school and watched passersby. Blaine’s stomach churned every time he met Kurt’s eyes. Kurt seemed supremely unselfconscious as he licked and sucked his peppermint cone, and the gently melting pink candy colored his lips and tongue a deeper and brighter shade. His light, silly laugh was one of the things Blaine loved about him, and Kurt was bubbling tonight. Maybe it was because it had been four days since they had time to relax in one another’s company.
“Is there something wrong with your ice cream?” Kurt said abruptly, his forehead creased with concern.
Blaine glanced down at the table littered with the sticky green napkins he’d used to catch and wipe up the drips from his neglected cone. He shrugged, then got up and tossed the remains of his ice cream in the nearest waste can. “To tell the truth, I didn’t really want ice cream. I just wanted to spend time with you, and I was tired of coffee.”
“Oh.” Kurt swirled his tongue around the small, rounded mound left of his peppermint, then began to use the very tip of his tongue to trace grooves into the surface. “Next time, we could go to Frisch’s. Do you want to leave?”
“No,” Blaine managed to say, hoping he didn’t sound like an elephant was sitting on his chest. “Take your time.”
“Thanks.” Kurt beamed gratefully and opened his mouth in an O to suck the rest of the soft, cold center out of the cone.
---
For the next week, Blaine tried to avoid Kurt without appearing to avoid him. He needed to get his head straight. Having Kurt around made him focus on Kurt, which was maybe the reason he was having so much trouble focusing on the real issue. Him. This was his fault, his hang-up, and his to fix.
It didn’t help that even when he was in class, or doing homework, or reading, or eating, or showering, or dressing, or any one of a million daily mundane activities, he often had an internal dialog going with Kurt: Can you believe how much of a brown-noser Ashton is? I can’t believe I had a moment of love for the second law of thermodynamics. What’s with the red peppers in the commissary? I’m sick of picking them out of my meals. Will you go into Westerville with me so I can get some razor blades?
He missed him.
Whenever they bumped into each other, Blaine felt the tempo of his heart speed up with affection and relief. He felt a hundred pounds lighter, and more times than not followed Kurt wherever he was going in pretense of having a similar destination. Kurt laughed and dished and sniped about classes and classmates and everything seemed normal and easy, and the contrast against every moment spent apart from Kurt made it almost painful. Kurt acted as though it was normal for them to bump into each other in the halls a couple times a day and not hang out. Blaine guessed it had become the new normal.
He hated it.
---
Blaine got up around 5 AM, showered, dressed in jeans and a warm wool sweater, and walked out to the track. The dark was beginning to lift into grey. He walked across the infield to the bleachers, where he climbed to the topmost level and waited for Kurt. Kurt ran four days a week. It wasn’t long before he saw his boyfriend in a turquoise track suit walking briskly toward him. When Kurt saw him, he did a little double-take, then burst into a smile so sweet and large it made the dawn dim. Kurt gave him an excited little wave, then started his run.
Blaine watched him circle the track. Graceful, long legs. Strong arms. He could hear Kurt breathing as he ran the length of the track closest to him, then silence as he moved out of earshot. He tried to imagine the bleachers full of people assembled for a football game or track meet, crowded, laughing, yelling encouragement. He tried to imagine Kurt slipping his hand in his, leading him underneath the bleachers, getting down on his knees, Blaine’s fly open, Kurt with his mouth on him. He couldn’t even get to the kneeling part. It swirled out into a grimy, hazy blur. Kurt on his knees was wrong in so many ways. His throat tightened, and he sat up straighter so he could breathe more easily.
He tried to imagine touching Kurt. He couldn’t not. Kurt’s slender energy naturally attracted him; he wants it tingling beneath his hands, everywhere, all the time. With Kurt’s mouth at his groin, though, most of Kurt would be out of reach. He could reach Kurt’s hair... oh, that would go over so very, very well. Maybe Kurt wouldn’t care, for once. Maybe he’d be completely absorbed in attention to Blaine’s dick.
That thought had him hunching his shoulders again. He didn’t like thinking of himself as an attachment to his dick. He liked lying in bed with Kurt, kissing, touching, letting his hands roam, listening to Kurt’s occasional gasp and hum; making those sounds intensify, then quieting; coming closer together, then farther apart; feeling Kurt tense and relax; having Kurt look at him with impatience, enthusiasm, desire... Making out with Kurt was like conducting a symphony. A blowjob sounded like playing a kazoo that you found on the ground somewhere.
Blaine leaned back, his elbows on the bleacher behind him. Kurt probably just wanted the experience, and Blaine was the natural person to turn to. It wasn’t personal.
He knew immediately upon having the thought that it was untrue, and unfair to both Kurt and himself.
He watched Kurt circle the far side of the track, heard him huffing rhythmically as he came around and headed down toward the far end again. Each time Kurt circled, his eyes went to Blaine for a moment, then back to the track.
Other runners were jogging out from the school. He watched Kurt’s pace slow. Blaine thought about how hard it had been to concentrate during classes, the friends he’d barely paid attention to; he’d been isolating, trying to work this over in his mind. It wasn’t good to be so distracted.
He looked up as Kurt walked the last lap and climbed toward Blaine, his feet clattering on the metal. Kurt’s face was flushed and he was breathing hard and sweating. He stood at a little distance and smiled at Blaine. “Good morning.”
Blaine smiled back. “You look happy.”
Kurt shrugged. “It was a good run. You made me push myself.” He came a bit closer. “What are you doing out here, so early?”
“Thinking.”
Kurt turned around and looked at the track, then back at Blaine. He held out his hand. Blaine got up and walked over to him, wrapped his hand around Kurt’s, and they walked back toward the school. The sun was up; the pink sky turned yellow, mellowing into a pale transparency. Blaine waited for Kurt to ask him what he’d been thinking about, but Kurt just looked sweaty and content, his hair flat and wet, perspiration condensing on his forehead and trickling down from his temples, his hand hot and damp in Blaine’s. Blaine pulled Kurt closer so their arms were pressed together. The heat from Kurt’s body warmed the space between them; the smell of Kurt had the same quality of a midsummer garden watered too late in the afternoon, thick and humid and alive.
The sexual fantasy didn’t exist that could compare to the solidity of this. He squeezed Kurt’s hand.
“Are you afraid to ask me what I was thinking?” It bothered him that he’d put so much distance between them that Kurt was content to leave him alone with his thoughts.
“A little.” Blaine’s stomach fell, until Kurt added, “I’m high from the run. Not thinking clearly yet.” He was still breathing hard. “I’ll try to listen. If you want to talk.” His blue eyes, pupils tight, turned to Blaine.
What was he going to say? I’ve been thinking about how much I hate the idea of your giving me a blowjob, but I’ll do it if you want me to.
“Or you could talk to me while I shower? Or we could meet after?” Kurt was still looking at him.
“No,” Blaine said. “This is good. This is what I needed.” He wrapped his hand tighter around Kurt’s and pushed his arm closer to Kurt’s warm body.
“Your sweater feels scratchy,” Kurt said. “It’s nice.”
They walked in contented silence back to the school.