Author's Note: Is this some sort of tie-in to Thirteen Ghost or a new story? No and sort of. While working on school projects, 13G and squealing over the Warbler's new songs (They are very squeal-worthy), I type this stuff up on my DocApp in my Ipod and have now decided to just post the drabble online. I do love Sam and Kurt together, but Blaine and Kurt together are so cute. I was inspired to make this because of The Art of Juggling by myheartisyourrs0523. It is a very good read and I highly recommend it. This drabble is a semi-experiment for me on thinking of character-relationship dynamics and what the characters are thinking, how one character's actions are perceived through the others and just how in-character I'm able to write. As I practice, more of these might pop up.
Please enjoy this as I beg you to review with constructive criticism. Everything in italics are either thoughts or dialogue but I won't make it clear who it is on purpose.
The drabble is rated T for what it implies even though it is not explicit. As always, I don't own Glee. ALSO, if this is not your cup of tea, don't read it. Spare me the flames.
This is best read in the 3/4 Format.
Not The Same
A Blaine Anderson, Sam Evans, Kurt Hummel Drabble
Not the Same
It wasn't the same. Not at all. His kisses were soft and chaste. Two strong lips leaving traces of empathy, of kindness and security. When planted on the forehead, no nightmares would come. The brutish shadows of wicked smiles and hellish slurs would be banished whenever those lips opened and commanded.
Idiots, all unsavory creatures. You stood up and I won't let then break you.
They created waves of rushing red, covering pale fields when placed on the cheek. When they touched his own, it would be for only a sweet moment; never teasing, quick and innocent.
Too quick, it's not enough.
Please stay.
So assuring were they that his mind would become calm at their mere movement. When not spouting sweet serenades they were dedicated to describing the world; a world seen through different eyes. While these lips were kind and full of love, they were too guarded. They held back, without hesitance, they held back in fear of overtaking the other. They were chaste in front of others but only slightly longer in private. As quick as they were, sweetness and peace came from them and while they were so fast to fade, many were lef on him. Even so, they wouldn't tease at all –not in the right way, in the way that would make him burn– and only asked for acceptance when pressed momentarily against his body.
Why ask? Why plead? Just take what I'm offering you.
These were different. Searing, they lacked the confidence of the others but shivered in passion.
You tremble for me.
Please mark me.
They worked quickly around the temple leaving quivering flesh and beads of sweat in their wake. What would they say about how you look now? I want to be the only one to see but I'm curious. Waves of ruby red would overtake the skin, would make the senses dance in ravishment. Feelings never had any color –or any form for that matter– when he was being snatched from reality by his kisses it was different. Passion was like fluttering little hummingbird; like the soft tease of lust and the burn of devotion, it would buzz around his face and over his skin. Oh and when those lips touched his own it was like a crime. It was a violation.
Take it. Rip it. Steal me away.
They forced their way, pressing against the two mounds of pink flesh and shaking in a forbidden dance, hoping to open them, to make them ache! They also did something grand: they explored. They moved away from his face, scurrying down his jaw line and onto his jugular. Those lips would tease and nip, using the teeth they hid to mark the skin brutally, leaving a pain that only induced a sharp want.
We blend.
I know.
Sometimes I'm afraid we'll never separate.
Sometime I'm afraid we'll never touch again.
Blaine's hands were always seeking to become connected to his. It's only five minutes from here. Please humor me! A bit thicker but equally graceful, the tips would tickle his palms, playing invisible piano keys constantly.
Dun-da-dun-dun, da-da-dun.
If they weren't touching, they would rest upon any flat surface, drumming a quick beat.
Ju-st-as-soon-as-I-need-you.
They were always the jitteriest part, not that Kurt cared much. They would cradle his face- I think I could stay this way all night -and their touch had the same effect the naive lips did, but they would also elicit a soft smile. Lead him to a dance, present him a worthy gift, or act out a favorite scene from some movie.
You were muchier! You've lost your muchness!
My muchness, oh my!
Those hands always moved, but like the lips, they were away from him; distanced, the hands would make him smile, if only for a moment.
Sam's were quite different. Rough, large and calloused, they weren't graceful and sometimes used too much force.
I'm sorry! Please stay. I think my sister has something for that bruise.
However, these hands explored, and became as adventurous as the lips.
We're in a locker room!
So? I need to feel you, now.
No drumming on a table or bench, only cradling his hips and smoothing over pale skin happened. Slow, torturous, they traveled over the pulsating surface and learned of every mark, every old scar and dimple. They did tease, and pinched lightly here and there. They beckoned, entranced and enthralled.
You won't regret it.
He never did when they were together, but he always broken when they were apart.
His disgust would return when Blaine's drumming hands would reach for him and his heart would flutter for him as much as it had thumped for Sam's heat.
