Fic: The Wisdom of Wildflowers - Part 7/9 +epilogue
Title: The Wisdom of Wildflowers
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word Count: 35000, 3850 this part
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Brittany/Santana, rest of New Directions, Burt Hummel
Spoilers: everything through Glease, veers away from canon after that
Warnings: character death
Summary: It's been ten years since Kurt set foot in the halls of William McKinley High School, but the death of a friend has him headed back to Lima and spending time with his old friends. The week brings sorrow, reminiscences, love, and maybe the chance to mend the tears in old relationships.
Hugs to lokicorey who made this absolutely lovely banner for this story!
Seven
When he finds Blaine again, dressed in flannel pyjama bottoms and a tight white t shirt - yum - he's brushing his teeth over near the trees and rinsing with a bottle of water.
“You've even been brushing your teeth outside?” Kurt asks, rucking his bag further up his shoulder. “Big mountain man, huh?”
Blaine laughs and spits out a mouthful of toothpaste into the grass. “That's me. I'll be your burly captive this evening.”
“Ooh, are we gonna play that game?” Kurt teases. “Fun.”
Blaine looks a little unsure, and Kurt realizes that this side of him is new to Blaine. The Kurt he knew was always hesitant and shy about intimacy and would never have made such a joke. For the first time since saying yes he feels like maybe he's making a mistake. He turns towards the tent in amongst the trees. “Home sweet home?” he asks.
“For the past few days. Come on, I'll give you the tour.”
Blaine puts his arm around Kurt's shoulders and leads him to the tent, only letting go when it's necessary for him to lean down and unzip it.
There is indeed a camp bed, Kurt discovers when he bends over and crawls inside, bouncing on it and toppling over while Blaine kneels on solid ground and laughs.
“You could have warned me, you ass!” Kurt scolds with a giggle, righting himself and tossing his bag in the corner.
“Oh, yeah. Kurt, by the way, the bed takes up nearly the entire space inside so be careful going in.”
“Smart ass. You are so getting a spanking later,” Kurt says, then stops abruptly and tells himself to shut up. He's got to stop doing that or this whole evening is going to wind up being uncomfortable to the extreme.
“Well I would certainly not complain about that,” Blaine teases back. And okay, he got over that quickly. Kurt breathes a sigh of relief and budges over so that Blaine can climb in next to him.
After everything is zipped up they both crawl under the blankets and snuggle close together. Blaine even has two pillows set out. Kurt squishes his up perfectly under his head and touches his foot to Blaine's leg. They just lay there smiling at each other in the minimal light.
“Hi,” Blaine says after a moment. He's grinning and Kurt can't help but return it. He has always had an infectious smile.
“Hi yourself.”
“This is nice,” Blaine says.
Kurt hums his agreement and Blaine reaches out under the blankets and takes a hold of one of his hands. He pulls it up above the covers and places a kiss on Kurt's knuckles, then smiles and tucks the hand under his cheek.
“Been wanting to do that for a while,” Blaine says. He looks like a mixture of embarrassed and shy and extremely pleased with himself. An odd combination.
“Well I am all for doing the things that you want,” Kurt tells him.
It's silent for a second, almost like the night has stopped all movement and Kurt can't even hear either of their breathing, so maybe that has stopped as well. He's not sure which one of them moves first, but he soon has Blaine's shoulders pinned to the bed and is half on top of him, their mouths moving in tandem. There is no moment of uncertainty or awkwardness, they know each other too well.
“Kurt,” Blaine moans, tangling his fingers in the short hairs at the back of Kurt's neck and leading him down to his throat, where Kurt pulls the flesh between his lips, sucking and licking and gasping.
Their clothes come off slowly, between feverish kisses and hands and fingers that caress and clutch and reach. Kurt sits up between Blaine's splayed thighs and takes him in - he's leaning back on his elbows, his own eyes sweeping over Kurt's pale skin. His shoulders are wide - wider than they'd been the last time Kurt had seen him this way - then tapering inward, his chest, his ribcage, his soft, downy hair covered tummy, to his tiny waist. Between the sharp jut of his hipbones lays his cock, hard and dark and curving towards his navel, a neat thatch of pubic hair underneath.
Kurt tears his gaze away when he finds his mouth flooding with saliva at the sight. Licking his lips, he lets his eyes trail back up Blaine's body until they are silently watching each other. Kurt's voice is thick with arousal when he speaks. “Do you have any lube?”
“Um, no.” Blaine says. His voice sounds as thick as Kurt's. He swipes his tongue over his lips and clears his throat before continuing. “I tend not to bring lube when I fly across the country to attend a funeral. Even when I know you're going to be there.”
Kurt lifts one eyebrow and taps a finger on Blaine's knee. “What is that supposed to mean? That I'm some sort of floozy or something?”
Blaine's eyes go from hooded to wide and mildly panicked in less than half a second. “No! I - well, I mean... I can wish in a non-concrete sort of way - well, pretty concrete in this case, but... I mean, I didn't actually expect... Not in my wildest dreams did I think anything would actually - no matter how badly I wanted it to, I - ”
Kurt has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He cups his hand around Blaine's kneecap and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Blaine, you can stop babbling, sweetie. I was just kidding. And you know, I think I've got some lotion in my bag...” Kurt sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and glances around the inside of the tent. When he spots his bag he bends forward, pulling it over by the straps and unhooking the clasps.
“Lotion?” Blaine sounds about ready to burst out laughing.
When Kurt pulls the small bottle triumphantly from his satchel and tosses the bag back where he found it, Blaine lets out a guffaw, followed by many others until his legs and spread even further apart and he's holding onto his middle, the quaking of his legs rubbing against Kurt's side.
Kurt stares down at him, popping the top of the lotion bottle and squirting a generous amount into the palm of his hand. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks. Blaine shakes his head, but doesn't stop. Kurt leans forward, rubbing his fingers against his palm, and then his clean hand against his slick one, warming the cool cream. “I guarantee you're going to stop in 5, 4, 3, 2... wait for it...” He places his hands at the tip of Blaine's cock, applying a minute amount of pressure. “Now.” And Blaine throws back his head and lets out a gasp as Kurt begins working his slippery hands up and down his shaft and over the head of his cock.
“Kurt,” he groans.
“Mmmm... Oh how I hate to say I told you so,” Kurt says, his voice breathy as his eyes focus entirely on the way his hands are working over Blaine's cock, up and back down and catching just slightly under the ridge on the way back up.
“Go right ahead,” Blaine stutters out. He pitches his hips forward, lifting his ass off the camp bed. “You've earned it.”
Kurt hums again and scooches forward in the circle of Blaine's legs. “Not yet,” he says, and still holding Blaine's cock in between both of his hands, slips one leg over Blaine's thigh and then the other, so that his knees are resting on either side of his hips.
He bends over Blaine's prone form, aligning their mouths and pressing a hot sucking kiss to Blaine's lips before weakening his hold on Blaine's cock. Blaine whimpers his displeasure at this, but he is soon hissing and bucking his hips, for Kurt has rested his own cock against Blaine's and wrapped his hands around both, sliding them slowly together in the slickness of the lotion.
Blaine pushes upward again. “Kurt,” he whines, wanting more friction.
Kurt rubs more firmly, using the motion of his hips as well as his hands to grind their erections together as Blaine half sits up, straining forward, open-mouthed and chasing Kurt's lips. They crash together, and Kurt takes one hand off their cocks to slide into Blaine's hair, pulling his face closer, taking his lips in a fiercer kiss. He lets his body rest fully against Blaine's, both of them hissing as their cocks fall together, sliding, rubbing as Kurt uses his knees as leverage to grind down.
Blaine is whispering his name over and over into the crook of his neck as they rut together. “Kurtkurtkurtkurt.” It sounds too reverent; it makes him feel soft and floaty and strange, jangled like a broken guitar string. His rhythm is off, he's bucking strangely and Blaine grabs him by the hip and angles to the right, trying to pick up the slack. But he doesn't stop. He doesn't stop his whispering. It's almost as though he needs the constant reminder of whose body it is over him, touching him, making his skin flush pink and warm and his cock ache for release.
“You don't have to whisper,” Kurt rasps, trying to make light of it, trying to stop the strange fluttering in his chest. “No one is going to get mad at you for shouting my name. Not tonight.”
Blaine gasps out a laugh and Kurt tightens his thighs around Blaine's hips, thrusting down and across so that their cocks rub together blissfully. “Fuck. Kurt. Gonna come. So soon.”
“You can come, my beautiful Blaine. It's okay.”
Blaine makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and presses up as Kurt presses down, curling his hands around Blaine's biceps and rutting more quickly, thrusting their cocks together over and over through the slickness of their sweat and what's left of the lotion.
There is almost no warning before Blaine is coming, his back in a perfect arch, and almost toppling Kurt to the bed, his warm come shooting out in thick, pearly stripes all over his own belly and the head of Kurt's cock.
“Kur urt,” he says one last time, broken, sated, his eyes closing and his breaths coming out in exhausted pants. He places one hand on the curve of Kurt's ass and motions him forward. Kurt hadn't even realized that he'd stopped, so mesmerized by Blaine's orgasm.
It only takes four more swipes of his cock over Blaine's softening one and through the slipperiness of his release before Kurt is groaning and twitching forward and letting out a long, low moan against Blaine's sweat-slick throat.
They lay there without speaking, Kurt's face pressed into the curve of Blaine's neck as he pants, a bead of sweat dripping from his hair and down the back of his neck. He wants to reach around and wipe it away, but he's far too lethargic. Spent. He can't remember the last time he's felt so utterly spent. So he rests there and waits to catch his breath while his sweat cools and their come dries on his and Blaine's skin.
When his breathing has evened out, he rolls over onto his side and lays his head farther down over Blaine's heart. He hears a little sniffle and feels Blaine's fingers begin to card through his sweat-damp hair. He nuzzles against Blaine's chest. He's got more hair there than Kurt remembers; it's soft and silky and masculine and Kurt finds that he quite likes it. He hears another quiet sniffle. And then another. He lifts his head.
“Blaine, are you crying, sweetheart?”
Blaine shakes his head and sniffles again. “No,” he whispers.
“Okay,” Kurt whispers back. He strains up to place a gentle kiss on Blaine's lips. They taste like salt. “Okay.”
He hears Rachel's words from earlier playing in his head. I'm pretty sure he never resurfaced after the last plunge.
He kisses Blaine again and wraps his arms securely around his body.
In the morning when he wakes up, groggy and damp from sleeping out of doors, he nuzzles his cold nose against Blaine's side and runs his fingers over the bumps of his spine all the way down to the dimples at the small of his back, and up again until Blaine grunts into his pillow and lifts his bleary head.
“Kurt. Mmmm.” He rolls over and hugs Kurt to his warm body and presses a kiss to his disaster of hair.
“Good morning,” Kurt tells him.
“Good morning indeed.” Kurt giggles and wraps his arms around Blaine's back, where he lets his fingers wander, tracing words and patterns over every inch of skin within reach.
“Can I get you breakfast, beautiful?” Blaine asks, his voice still thick with sleep. Kurt warms at the compliment. In all the time he and Blaine had been together, he doesn't remember Blaine once telling him he was beautiful. He had always felt like the ugly duckling next to Blaine and it had been one of his greatest insecurities in their relationship.
“It's the least you can do after I put out for you last night,” Kurt teases. Blaine pauses, his hands stopping their stroking of Kurt's skin. “Oh my God, Blaine, I was only kidding.”
“I know,” Blaine tells him after a second. “I just... I've missed you. So much.”
“I've missed you, too.”
Blaine turns Kurt in his arms and leans over to rest their foreheads together. “I guess I forgot how funny you were - are.”
Kurt snorts a laugh and smacks Blaine on the ass. “Well? I believe I was promised breakfast, garçon.”
Breakfast is a little bit sombre due to the fact that Mike and Artie are leaving directly afterwards. They're travelling together and need to get back to their wives in Chicago.
“Allie could go any day now,” Mike says. “Her official due date is in three weeks, but we've been warned. Plus, she's as big as a house, but don't tell her I said that!”
“Yeah, I gotta get back to my baby, too,” Artie tells them. “The little hooligan is probably driving Nancy crazy by now. He doesn't sleep all that well yet. I'll miss you guys! Next New Directions reunion in Chi-Town, y'all!”
Everyone gathers around for hugs and goodbyes.
When Mike and Artie pull away, backing slowly down Quinn's long driveway, waving at the entire group assembled on the front lawn, Mercedes is the first to cry.
“I can't believe I gotta go back to Vegas tomorrow. I'm gonna miss you guys so much!”
There is a chorus of awwwws and a group hug that it a lot more like a pile up with poor Mercedes at ground zero. Kurt wipes at Tina's leaking eyes while she does the same for Rachel.
“We are doing this again, you guys!” Rachel says adamantly, stamping her foot on the lawn. “I don't care where we go or if people bring kids or husbands or wives or cats - we're doing this again. And soon. We can't just keep saying later and later and pretending it doesn't matter. It does matter. We have something special, and we shouldn't be off living our lives without being involved in one anothers'.”
People nod their agreements and begin discussing the wheres and hows, but Kurt finds their chatter drifting farther and farther until it is nothing but fuzzy noise like a radio off its station. He can't focus on them. Not when Blaine is pressed up close behind him, his chin hooked over his shoulder. He can smell his aftershave and his hair product and underneath that, Kurt's own shampoo, which Blaine had used when they'd snuck inside early in the morning to shower together before anyone else was awake. How can he concentrate on anything but that? His senses are overloaded as it is. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Blaine's voice rumbles against his shoulder, saying he's willing to go anywhere, it doesn't matter to him. Kurt nods along with him. Sure. Whatever he says is fine with Kurt.
An hour later they are all sitting listlessly in the living room when Sam perks up.
“I have the best idea ever, guys! We should have an old fashioned game of Capture the Flag!”
It is decided that Rachel and Finn should be the team captains, seeing as that was their role in glee club. Rachel wins the seemingly never ending rock, paper, scissors duel - best three out of five, best seven out of nine! - and gets first pick for her team.
“Oh great, high school all over again,” Kurt mutters to Blaine. “How I've missed being picked last for everything.”
Blaine shakes his head fondly and squeezes Kurt's hand.
Rachel chooses Puck, and Finn curses loudly and vehemently, saying it wasn't fair while Rachel cackles. Finn chooses Sam.
“Kurt!” Rachel shouts out next and Blaine winks at him and shoves him gently in her direction.
“Rachel,” Kurt whispers to her, as Finn and Sam get into an overly serious discussion about who they need next and who they should rob Rachel of. “You should have picked someone who's actually good.”
Rachel pokes him in the arm. “You are good. You're my best,” she says.
“Quinn!” Finn hollers. He gives Rachel a smug look as though he has foiled all her evil plans. She just smiles sweetly at him and asks for Blaine to please join her team.
“I told you, man! I told you to pick Blaine,” Sam mutters mutinously and Rachel starts her cackling anew.
What Rachel didn't realize then was that she had just made a grievous error that would lead to her team's downfall.
“We'll guard the flag,” Kurt says in a bored voice. He reaches out to grab the blue bandana from Puck's hand. Puck holds it away from him and gives him a stern look.
“Dude, are you sure you want to be responsible for our team's life in this game? It's the most important job of all, soldier. The Troubadours are counting on you. We can't let Finn and his Directioneers take this from us. Think of the children.”
Kurt rolls his eyes and makes another grab for their flag, this time successful. “Am I at summer camp? I've never even been to summer camp and I suddenly feel like I'm at summer camp.”
“All right, then,” Puck says. “Good luck, gentleman.” He salutes them before turning swiftly and disappearing into the trees. Mercedes and Rachel take another direction, sneaking away with snickers and the swishing of bushes and tree branches breaking underfoot.
Blaine holds out his hand for the bandana and Kurt passes it over. He watches as Blaine climbs up a sloping poplar tree and wraps it in its branches.
“That should make plenty of noise should anyone go for it,” he says, pleased with himself.
“Why do we need the noise?” Kurt asks.
“Hmm.... Because we might be a little distracted. You know, because of this.” He seats himself on the ground, his back to a large flat rock and pulls Kurt down into his lap.
They're making out pretty heavily, Kurt grinding down on Blaine's erection and sucking on his neck while Blaine moans and his fingers cut into Kurt's hips so hard that it's almost painful, when Blaine places his hand gently on the back of Kurt's head.
“This is serious for me,” he says quietly, his voice thick with arousal and broken by his heavy breaths.
Kurt pulls away from his neck, cringing a little at the red mark that his ministrations have left on Blaine's skin. Oops. “Was I making it seem as if it wasn't for me?” he asks worriedly.
“No, I... I just wanted to make sure you know.”
Kurt smiles and presses a kiss to his lips before climbing off his lap and sitting down next to him. Blaine lets out a pathetic little mewl of disagreement and a no don't and tries to pull Kurt back into his lap as Kurt laughs. He sits and stares into the trees for a moment.
“You weren't talking about the game being serious, were you?” he asks Blaine. “Because I'm pretty sure our flag is gone.” Oops indeed.
“I heard a rumour that our team lost because Kurt and Blaine were makin' out,” Puck says, coming into the clearing.
“Not a rumour,” Tina pipes up, waving the blue bandana flag triumphantly in the air. “And they weren't just making out. They were going to town. Full on grinding. Outdoor sexing. Don't try and deny it, I was the one who captured your flag and I saw you,” she adds, turning to Kurt and Blaine with a smug look on her face.
“I was with her,” Sugar says. “It was hot.”
“I can't believe you didn't notice them,” Rachel says, still smarting from the loss and the way Finn keeps rubbing it in. He told her he's a better team captain than she is, and she's letting it get to her far too much.
“They were too busy capturing each others' flags,” Quinn says with a wicked grin.
Kurt snorts. “Hey, no one's flag was actually captured. We were rudely interrupted by Puck's mournful wail at the realization that he'd lost. It was kind of a mood killer.”
“Sorry dude,” Pucks says. “What can I say? I hate to lose.”
“So do I,” Kurt mutters under his breath. Blaine throws him a surreptitious wink.
“Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Hummel?” Puck asks, turning to Kurt. Kurt just shrugs disinterestedly and picks at his nails. Puck turns his attention on Blaine. “Anderson? You brought shame to your team. You have sullied the name of the Troubadours.”
“I'm pretty proud of myself, if truth be told. And I think the Troubadours would forgive me. All in the name of romance, et cetera,” Blaine tells him.
Pucks throws back his head and laughs. “I was totally joking, dudes. Get it.” He puts up his fist and Blaine punches it.
When he puts it there in front of Kurt for him to do the same, he just stares blankly with one eyebrow raised. “Seriously?”
But Puck will not let up. Kurt heaves a sigh and hits his fist halfheartedly into Puck's.
Everyone cheers and Blaine laughs loudly, grabbing Kurt around the waist and jokingly pulling him into the bushes while everyone eggs him on.
previous next
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word Count: 35000, 3850 this part
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Brittany/Santana, rest of New Directions, Burt Hummel
Spoilers: everything through Glease, veers away from canon after that
Warnings: character death
Summary: It's been ten years since Kurt set foot in the halls of William McKinley High School, but the death of a friend has him headed back to Lima and spending time with his old friends. The week brings sorrow, reminiscences, love, and maybe the chance to mend the tears in old relationships.
Hugs to lokicorey who made this absolutely lovely banner for this story!
Seven
When he finds Blaine again, dressed in flannel pyjama bottoms and a tight white t shirt - yum - he's brushing his teeth over near the trees and rinsing with a bottle of water.
“You've even been brushing your teeth outside?” Kurt asks, rucking his bag further up his shoulder. “Big mountain man, huh?”
Blaine laughs and spits out a mouthful of toothpaste into the grass. “That's me. I'll be your burly captive this evening.”
“Ooh, are we gonna play that game?” Kurt teases. “Fun.”
Blaine looks a little unsure, and Kurt realizes that this side of him is new to Blaine. The Kurt he knew was always hesitant and shy about intimacy and would never have made such a joke. For the first time since saying yes he feels like maybe he's making a mistake. He turns towards the tent in amongst the trees. “Home sweet home?” he asks.
“For the past few days. Come on, I'll give you the tour.”
Blaine puts his arm around Kurt's shoulders and leads him to the tent, only letting go when it's necessary for him to lean down and unzip it.
There is indeed a camp bed, Kurt discovers when he bends over and crawls inside, bouncing on it and toppling over while Blaine kneels on solid ground and laughs.
“You could have warned me, you ass!” Kurt scolds with a giggle, righting himself and tossing his bag in the corner.
“Oh, yeah. Kurt, by the way, the bed takes up nearly the entire space inside so be careful going in.”
“Smart ass. You are so getting a spanking later,” Kurt says, then stops abruptly and tells himself to shut up. He's got to stop doing that or this whole evening is going to wind up being uncomfortable to the extreme.
“Well I would certainly not complain about that,” Blaine teases back. And okay, he got over that quickly. Kurt breathes a sigh of relief and budges over so that Blaine can climb in next to him.
After everything is zipped up they both crawl under the blankets and snuggle close together. Blaine even has two pillows set out. Kurt squishes his up perfectly under his head and touches his foot to Blaine's leg. They just lay there smiling at each other in the minimal light.
“Hi,” Blaine says after a moment. He's grinning and Kurt can't help but return it. He has always had an infectious smile.
“Hi yourself.”
“This is nice,” Blaine says.
Kurt hums his agreement and Blaine reaches out under the blankets and takes a hold of one of his hands. He pulls it up above the covers and places a kiss on Kurt's knuckles, then smiles and tucks the hand under his cheek.
“Been wanting to do that for a while,” Blaine says. He looks like a mixture of embarrassed and shy and extremely pleased with himself. An odd combination.
“Well I am all for doing the things that you want,” Kurt tells him.
It's silent for a second, almost like the night has stopped all movement and Kurt can't even hear either of their breathing, so maybe that has stopped as well. He's not sure which one of them moves first, but he soon has Blaine's shoulders pinned to the bed and is half on top of him, their mouths moving in tandem. There is no moment of uncertainty or awkwardness, they know each other too well.
“Kurt,” Blaine moans, tangling his fingers in the short hairs at the back of Kurt's neck and leading him down to his throat, where Kurt pulls the flesh between his lips, sucking and licking and gasping.
Their clothes come off slowly, between feverish kisses and hands and fingers that caress and clutch and reach. Kurt sits up between Blaine's splayed thighs and takes him in - he's leaning back on his elbows, his own eyes sweeping over Kurt's pale skin. His shoulders are wide - wider than they'd been the last time Kurt had seen him this way - then tapering inward, his chest, his ribcage, his soft, downy hair covered tummy, to his tiny waist. Between the sharp jut of his hipbones lays his cock, hard and dark and curving towards his navel, a neat thatch of pubic hair underneath.
Kurt tears his gaze away when he finds his mouth flooding with saliva at the sight. Licking his lips, he lets his eyes trail back up Blaine's body until they are silently watching each other. Kurt's voice is thick with arousal when he speaks. “Do you have any lube?”
“Um, no.” Blaine says. His voice sounds as thick as Kurt's. He swipes his tongue over his lips and clears his throat before continuing. “I tend not to bring lube when I fly across the country to attend a funeral. Even when I know you're going to be there.”
Kurt lifts one eyebrow and taps a finger on Blaine's knee. “What is that supposed to mean? That I'm some sort of floozy or something?”
Blaine's eyes go from hooded to wide and mildly panicked in less than half a second. “No! I - well, I mean... I can wish in a non-concrete sort of way - well, pretty concrete in this case, but... I mean, I didn't actually expect... Not in my wildest dreams did I think anything would actually - no matter how badly I wanted it to, I - ”
Kurt has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He cups his hand around Blaine's kneecap and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Blaine, you can stop babbling, sweetie. I was just kidding. And you know, I think I've got some lotion in my bag...” Kurt sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and glances around the inside of the tent. When he spots his bag he bends forward, pulling it over by the straps and unhooking the clasps.
“Lotion?” Blaine sounds about ready to burst out laughing.
When Kurt pulls the small bottle triumphantly from his satchel and tosses the bag back where he found it, Blaine lets out a guffaw, followed by many others until his legs and spread even further apart and he's holding onto his middle, the quaking of his legs rubbing against Kurt's side.
Kurt stares down at him, popping the top of the lotion bottle and squirting a generous amount into the palm of his hand. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks. Blaine shakes his head, but doesn't stop. Kurt leans forward, rubbing his fingers against his palm, and then his clean hand against his slick one, warming the cool cream. “I guarantee you're going to stop in 5, 4, 3, 2... wait for it...” He places his hands at the tip of Blaine's cock, applying a minute amount of pressure. “Now.” And Blaine throws back his head and lets out a gasp as Kurt begins working his slippery hands up and down his shaft and over the head of his cock.
“Kurt,” he groans.
“Mmmm... Oh how I hate to say I told you so,” Kurt says, his voice breathy as his eyes focus entirely on the way his hands are working over Blaine's cock, up and back down and catching just slightly under the ridge on the way back up.
“Go right ahead,” Blaine stutters out. He pitches his hips forward, lifting his ass off the camp bed. “You've earned it.”
Kurt hums again and scooches forward in the circle of Blaine's legs. “Not yet,” he says, and still holding Blaine's cock in between both of his hands, slips one leg over Blaine's thigh and then the other, so that his knees are resting on either side of his hips.
He bends over Blaine's prone form, aligning their mouths and pressing a hot sucking kiss to Blaine's lips before weakening his hold on Blaine's cock. Blaine whimpers his displeasure at this, but he is soon hissing and bucking his hips, for Kurt has rested his own cock against Blaine's and wrapped his hands around both, sliding them slowly together in the slickness of the lotion.
Blaine pushes upward again. “Kurt,” he whines, wanting more friction.
Kurt rubs more firmly, using the motion of his hips as well as his hands to grind their erections together as Blaine half sits up, straining forward, open-mouthed and chasing Kurt's lips. They crash together, and Kurt takes one hand off their cocks to slide into Blaine's hair, pulling his face closer, taking his lips in a fiercer kiss. He lets his body rest fully against Blaine's, both of them hissing as their cocks fall together, sliding, rubbing as Kurt uses his knees as leverage to grind down.
Blaine is whispering his name over and over into the crook of his neck as they rut together. “Kurtkurtkurtkurt.” It sounds too reverent; it makes him feel soft and floaty and strange, jangled like a broken guitar string. His rhythm is off, he's bucking strangely and Blaine grabs him by the hip and angles to the right, trying to pick up the slack. But he doesn't stop. He doesn't stop his whispering. It's almost as though he needs the constant reminder of whose body it is over him, touching him, making his skin flush pink and warm and his cock ache for release.
“You don't have to whisper,” Kurt rasps, trying to make light of it, trying to stop the strange fluttering in his chest. “No one is going to get mad at you for shouting my name. Not tonight.”
Blaine gasps out a laugh and Kurt tightens his thighs around Blaine's hips, thrusting down and across so that their cocks rub together blissfully. “Fuck. Kurt. Gonna come. So soon.”
“You can come, my beautiful Blaine. It's okay.”
Blaine makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and presses up as Kurt presses down, curling his hands around Blaine's biceps and rutting more quickly, thrusting their cocks together over and over through the slickness of their sweat and what's left of the lotion.
There is almost no warning before Blaine is coming, his back in a perfect arch, and almost toppling Kurt to the bed, his warm come shooting out in thick, pearly stripes all over his own belly and the head of Kurt's cock.
“Kur urt,” he says one last time, broken, sated, his eyes closing and his breaths coming out in exhausted pants. He places one hand on the curve of Kurt's ass and motions him forward. Kurt hadn't even realized that he'd stopped, so mesmerized by Blaine's orgasm.
It only takes four more swipes of his cock over Blaine's softening one and through the slipperiness of his release before Kurt is groaning and twitching forward and letting out a long, low moan against Blaine's sweat-slick throat.
They lay there without speaking, Kurt's face pressed into the curve of Blaine's neck as he pants, a bead of sweat dripping from his hair and down the back of his neck. He wants to reach around and wipe it away, but he's far too lethargic. Spent. He can't remember the last time he's felt so utterly spent. So he rests there and waits to catch his breath while his sweat cools and their come dries on his and Blaine's skin.
When his breathing has evened out, he rolls over onto his side and lays his head farther down over Blaine's heart. He hears a little sniffle and feels Blaine's fingers begin to card through his sweat-damp hair. He nuzzles against Blaine's chest. He's got more hair there than Kurt remembers; it's soft and silky and masculine and Kurt finds that he quite likes it. He hears another quiet sniffle. And then another. He lifts his head.
“Blaine, are you crying, sweetheart?”
Blaine shakes his head and sniffles again. “No,” he whispers.
“Okay,” Kurt whispers back. He strains up to place a gentle kiss on Blaine's lips. They taste like salt. “Okay.”
He hears Rachel's words from earlier playing in his head. I'm pretty sure he never resurfaced after the last plunge.
He kisses Blaine again and wraps his arms securely around his body.
In the morning when he wakes up, groggy and damp from sleeping out of doors, he nuzzles his cold nose against Blaine's side and runs his fingers over the bumps of his spine all the way down to the dimples at the small of his back, and up again until Blaine grunts into his pillow and lifts his bleary head.
“Kurt. Mmmm.” He rolls over and hugs Kurt to his warm body and presses a kiss to his disaster of hair.
“Good morning,” Kurt tells him.
“Good morning indeed.” Kurt giggles and wraps his arms around Blaine's back, where he lets his fingers wander, tracing words and patterns over every inch of skin within reach.
“Can I get you breakfast, beautiful?” Blaine asks, his voice still thick with sleep. Kurt warms at the compliment. In all the time he and Blaine had been together, he doesn't remember Blaine once telling him he was beautiful. He had always felt like the ugly duckling next to Blaine and it had been one of his greatest insecurities in their relationship.
“It's the least you can do after I put out for you last night,” Kurt teases. Blaine pauses, his hands stopping their stroking of Kurt's skin. “Oh my God, Blaine, I was only kidding.”
“I know,” Blaine tells him after a second. “I just... I've missed you. So much.”
“I've missed you, too.”
Blaine turns Kurt in his arms and leans over to rest their foreheads together. “I guess I forgot how funny you were - are.”
Kurt snorts a laugh and smacks Blaine on the ass. “Well? I believe I was promised breakfast, garçon.”
Breakfast is a little bit sombre due to the fact that Mike and Artie are leaving directly afterwards. They're travelling together and need to get back to their wives in Chicago.
“Allie could go any day now,” Mike says. “Her official due date is in three weeks, but we've been warned. Plus, she's as big as a house, but don't tell her I said that!”
“Yeah, I gotta get back to my baby, too,” Artie tells them. “The little hooligan is probably driving Nancy crazy by now. He doesn't sleep all that well yet. I'll miss you guys! Next New Directions reunion in Chi-Town, y'all!”
Everyone gathers around for hugs and goodbyes.
When Mike and Artie pull away, backing slowly down Quinn's long driveway, waving at the entire group assembled on the front lawn, Mercedes is the first to cry.
“I can't believe I gotta go back to Vegas tomorrow. I'm gonna miss you guys so much!”
There is a chorus of awwwws and a group hug that it a lot more like a pile up with poor Mercedes at ground zero. Kurt wipes at Tina's leaking eyes while she does the same for Rachel.
“We are doing this again, you guys!” Rachel says adamantly, stamping her foot on the lawn. “I don't care where we go or if people bring kids or husbands or wives or cats - we're doing this again. And soon. We can't just keep saying later and later and pretending it doesn't matter. It does matter. We have something special, and we shouldn't be off living our lives without being involved in one anothers'.”
People nod their agreements and begin discussing the wheres and hows, but Kurt finds their chatter drifting farther and farther until it is nothing but fuzzy noise like a radio off its station. He can't focus on them. Not when Blaine is pressed up close behind him, his chin hooked over his shoulder. He can smell his aftershave and his hair product and underneath that, Kurt's own shampoo, which Blaine had used when they'd snuck inside early in the morning to shower together before anyone else was awake. How can he concentrate on anything but that? His senses are overloaded as it is. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Blaine's voice rumbles against his shoulder, saying he's willing to go anywhere, it doesn't matter to him. Kurt nods along with him. Sure. Whatever he says is fine with Kurt.
An hour later they are all sitting listlessly in the living room when Sam perks up.
“I have the best idea ever, guys! We should have an old fashioned game of Capture the Flag!”
It is decided that Rachel and Finn should be the team captains, seeing as that was their role in glee club. Rachel wins the seemingly never ending rock, paper, scissors duel - best three out of five, best seven out of nine! - and gets first pick for her team.
“Oh great, high school all over again,” Kurt mutters to Blaine. “How I've missed being picked last for everything.”
Blaine shakes his head fondly and squeezes Kurt's hand.
Rachel chooses Puck, and Finn curses loudly and vehemently, saying it wasn't fair while Rachel cackles. Finn chooses Sam.
“Kurt!” Rachel shouts out next and Blaine winks at him and shoves him gently in her direction.
“Rachel,” Kurt whispers to her, as Finn and Sam get into an overly serious discussion about who they need next and who they should rob Rachel of. “You should have picked someone who's actually good.”
Rachel pokes him in the arm. “You are good. You're my best,” she says.
“Quinn!” Finn hollers. He gives Rachel a smug look as though he has foiled all her evil plans. She just smiles sweetly at him and asks for Blaine to please join her team.
“I told you, man! I told you to pick Blaine,” Sam mutters mutinously and Rachel starts her cackling anew.
What Rachel didn't realize then was that she had just made a grievous error that would lead to her team's downfall.
“We'll guard the flag,” Kurt says in a bored voice. He reaches out to grab the blue bandana from Puck's hand. Puck holds it away from him and gives him a stern look.
“Dude, are you sure you want to be responsible for our team's life in this game? It's the most important job of all, soldier. The Troubadours are counting on you. We can't let Finn and his Directioneers take this from us. Think of the children.”
Kurt rolls his eyes and makes another grab for their flag, this time successful. “Am I at summer camp? I've never even been to summer camp and I suddenly feel like I'm at summer camp.”
“All right, then,” Puck says. “Good luck, gentleman.” He salutes them before turning swiftly and disappearing into the trees. Mercedes and Rachel take another direction, sneaking away with snickers and the swishing of bushes and tree branches breaking underfoot.
Blaine holds out his hand for the bandana and Kurt passes it over. He watches as Blaine climbs up a sloping poplar tree and wraps it in its branches.
“That should make plenty of noise should anyone go for it,” he says, pleased with himself.
“Why do we need the noise?” Kurt asks.
“Hmm.... Because we might be a little distracted. You know, because of this.” He seats himself on the ground, his back to a large flat rock and pulls Kurt down into his lap.
They're making out pretty heavily, Kurt grinding down on Blaine's erection and sucking on his neck while Blaine moans and his fingers cut into Kurt's hips so hard that it's almost painful, when Blaine places his hand gently on the back of Kurt's head.
“This is serious for me,” he says quietly, his voice thick with arousal and broken by his heavy breaths.
Kurt pulls away from his neck, cringing a little at the red mark that his ministrations have left on Blaine's skin. Oops. “Was I making it seem as if it wasn't for me?” he asks worriedly.
“No, I... I just wanted to make sure you know.”
Kurt smiles and presses a kiss to his lips before climbing off his lap and sitting down next to him. Blaine lets out a pathetic little mewl of disagreement and a no don't and tries to pull Kurt back into his lap as Kurt laughs. He sits and stares into the trees for a moment.
“You weren't talking about the game being serious, were you?” he asks Blaine. “Because I'm pretty sure our flag is gone.” Oops indeed.
“I heard a rumour that our team lost because Kurt and Blaine were makin' out,” Puck says, coming into the clearing.
“Not a rumour,” Tina pipes up, waving the blue bandana flag triumphantly in the air. “And they weren't just making out. They were going to town. Full on grinding. Outdoor sexing. Don't try and deny it, I was the one who captured your flag and I saw you,” she adds, turning to Kurt and Blaine with a smug look on her face.
“I was with her,” Sugar says. “It was hot.”
“I can't believe you didn't notice them,” Rachel says, still smarting from the loss and the way Finn keeps rubbing it in. He told her he's a better team captain than she is, and she's letting it get to her far too much.
“They were too busy capturing each others' flags,” Quinn says with a wicked grin.
Kurt snorts. “Hey, no one's flag was actually captured. We were rudely interrupted by Puck's mournful wail at the realization that he'd lost. It was kind of a mood killer.”
“Sorry dude,” Pucks says. “What can I say? I hate to lose.”
“So do I,” Kurt mutters under his breath. Blaine throws him a surreptitious wink.
“Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Hummel?” Puck asks, turning to Kurt. Kurt just shrugs disinterestedly and picks at his nails. Puck turns his attention on Blaine. “Anderson? You brought shame to your team. You have sullied the name of the Troubadours.”
“I'm pretty proud of myself, if truth be told. And I think the Troubadours would forgive me. All in the name of romance, et cetera,” Blaine tells him.
Pucks throws back his head and laughs. “I was totally joking, dudes. Get it.” He puts up his fist and Blaine punches it.
When he puts it there in front of Kurt for him to do the same, he just stares blankly with one eyebrow raised. “Seriously?”
But Puck will not let up. Kurt heaves a sigh and hits his fist halfheartedly into Puck's.
Everyone cheers and Blaine laughs loudly, grabbing Kurt around the waist and jokingly pulling him into the bushes while everyone eggs him on.
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