Summary - Kurt is sexually frustrated, and Finn won't stop singing that stupid Christmas song.
Rated T for obvious reasons, guys. Probably should be M, but it's not THAT bad. :P
Disclaimer - This story, I own. Glee/characters/song, I do not.
Because in my world, ANYTHING is possible on Christmas Day. ;)
Kurt wanted his whole body to six into the pillow-top mattress and disappear. It felt like fifty tiny elves were knocking against his forehead with huge silver hammers; he rubbed his palm over the meticulously moisturized skin and pressed his face into his pillow.
Everything about this Christmas was supposed to be perfect, but somehow, everything had gotten totally out of hand.
Like the fact that the cuff of Kurt's new McQueen jacket had caught on fire while he was melting chocolate for the homemade (organic) peanut butter cups.
Like the fact that Blaine, despite his flirty ways, had yet to make a move, and Kurt was exceptionally deprived of any human contact.
Like the fact, Kurt groaned silently, that Finn Hudson lay beside him, in the same bed. He cursed his father for the hundredth time; it had been his suggestion for Finn to splay himself out across Kurt's beautiful Prada comforter because his own bed - a puny twin with cowboy sheets - had yet to be delivered to the Hummel/Hudson abode.
"Kurt, he can't sleep on the couch on Christmas Eve. That's just cruel."
So Finn had snuggled into Kurt's pillow-top queen in only his boxers. Kurt had closed his eyes, counted to ten, and slipped carefully under the covers beside his step-brother, trying very hard not to make any contact whatsoever with Finn's smooth, creamy back.
It hadn't really been that bad. Until, of course, Finn had started singing Carol of the Bells in a high, completely ridiculous, screeching voice.
"Christmassss is here, bringing good cheer."
"Finn."
"To young and the old, meek and the bold."
Kurt rolled over, propping himself up on his elbow. "Finn!"
"Ding, dong, ding, that is their song, with joyful ring, all caroling."
"You sound completely ridiculous." Finn responded by adding arm-flailing to his exhibition, knocking Kurt once upside the head. "Finn, ow!"
"One seems to hear, words of good cheer, from everywhere, filling the air."
"I have a headache!" Kurt threw up his hands, catching Finn's wrist as it flew toward his head again. The jock didn't even attempt to regain the use of his arm; instead he let it flop against Kurt's chest, heavy, and launched into the chorus.
"Merry, merry, merry, Merry Christmas! Merry, merry, merry, Merry Christmas!"
"Please, please, please shut up!" Kurt climbed to his knees; Finn started to kick his legs, spewing the blankets everywhere. His unrestrained arm hit Kurt lightly in the stomach, while his voice climbed to an all new high. The countertenor grabbed his step-brother by the shoulders in attempt to restrain him. The Ralph Lauren clock on the bedside table caught his eye; 1:02, Christmas morning.
Kurt's Christmas wasn't going as planned. At all.
But somewhere, amidst the chaos of Finn's performance, he found himself laughing. Through the darkness, he could see a little smirk on Finn's face as well.
"On, on they send, on without end. Their joyful tone to every home! Dong, ding, dong, ding!"
Kurt pushed through the flying limbs, laughing hysterically as he did, and placed a knee on either side of Finn's writhing form, straddling him in a completely brotherly way.
Except that Finn's hot palms found his thighs, burning through the cheap Christmas pajamas that his father bought him every year (this year they were decked out with sprigs of holly - shudder) that Kurt only wore to humor him.
Except that Finn's chocolate eyes were so intense, locked carefully on Kurt's flushed face, and there was a little knowing smile on his handsome face.
Except Kurt realized that the impressive entirety of Finn's muscled chest was exposed from his ceremonious kicking of the designer blankets, which had been reduced to a frumpy pile on the floor.
Except that every time Finn kicked his legs, Kurt's hips would rotate, grinding deliciously into Finn's pelvis.
But suddenly, it wasn't that brotherly anymore.
Kurt pushed his hands into Finn's bare shoulders, realizing for the first time that they were, indeed, bare. The jock's skin was warm, smooth, and smelled blissfully, exhilaratingly male. Kurt shook his head, trying to clear it as Finn continued to kick his legs and began the song over again.
"Hark, how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away!"
"I will make you shut up, Finn! I will!"
"Oh, how they pound, raising the sound!"
Kurt let his hands move from those broad shoulders to his chiseled jaw, cupping the jock's face. "Last warning! I swear, I'll make you shut up!
"Songs of good cheer, Christmas is h-"
Kurt's lips swallowed the last word as they crashed onto Finn's, drinking in a little of that Christmas spirit. The countertenor was sure what he was expecting, really: to be shoved, maybe, or screamed at again. Anything, anything, to make that stupid Christmas song go away.
But Finn responded with so much fire, so much fervent, so much longing, that Kurt forgot about the song entirely. Finn's lips were soft, scorching, and they pressed into Kurt's mouth, kissing him hard.
The need, the want, the blunt craving of the kiss was so prominent that Kurt jumped back, feeling his hips press heavily into Finn's, catching the little gasp that left the jock's mouth as they did.
"What are you doing?"
Finn raised an eyebrow. "What're you talking about?"
"I'm talking about," Kurt rolled his hips again; a raw, sexy moan slipped through Finn's parted lips, making goosebumps erupt on Kurt's arms, "that."
"Oh." He looked sheepish, embarrassed. Kurt's eyebrows disappeared into his perfectly styled hair. "You turn me on."
"Eloquent."
"I'm not exactly sure what that means, but seriously, you do. You make me crazy." His fingers started to trace circles on Kurt's thigh, every now and again brushing over his waistband and touching the cool, porcelain skin of the countertenor's stomach. Kurt struggled to remain focused. "I think when you left New Directions, I kind of realized how much I liked you and everything. I mean, you're beautiful. I know that's not really the word people use to describe dudes or whatever, but you're really beautiful. And you always look super hot."
He met Kurt's teal eyes, a little smiling tugging at the corner of his mouth. His fingers danced upward, smoothing over Kurt's hipbone. "And you're a nice person. You make me feel really happy when you smile. And most of the time, I just want to rip your clothes off and kiss you...Everywhere."
A shiver slid down Kurt's back, like ice. Finn sat up, holding onto Kurt so he wouldn't move. The jock ducked his head and placed a hot kiss to Kurt's collar bone. "Like here."
His lips pressed into Kurt's jugular. "And here."
His fingers skillfully unbuttoned the first button on Kurt's pajama shirt, revealing a new patch of perfect, pale skin. His lips kissed a little line down his chest. "And here."
Kurt's fingers threaded through Finn's soft brown hair, tousling it. The jock worked his way through the rest of the buttons and pushed the soft fabric off Kurt's shoulders, tossing it carelessly on top of the discarded blankets. A little brush of cool air slipped over Kurt's exposed skin, making the countertenor shiver before Finn's hot mouth came down, pressing warm kisses into his sternum. "And here."
Finn's tongue flicked over a taut nipple; Kurt gave a breathy gasp. "And here."
His fingers slid down, slipping slyly past Kurt's waistband. When his hot hand made contact, Kurt let out an incredibly erotic moan. Finn pressed his eyes into the corner of Kurt's neck, basking in the warmth and smell of his skin, and thought solely of the of mailman.
Because, really, that moan had just been too much.
Meanwhile, though, Kurt's hands had untangled themselves from his hair and were now smoothing slowly over his shoulders, brushing over his chest, smoothing over the hard ridges on his stomach. His fingers moved with the air of something that had wanted to touch Finn for a long time, hungry and excited.
His full lips, swollen from Finn's harsh, needy kisses, sucked and nipped carefully at his neck. The jock was sure that when he woke up, there would be a large purple brush left on his skin.
And then his lips were back on Finn's, demanding attention, and a crushing kiss was placed carelessly into his mouth.
His fingers were moving south. Finn felt like every nerve was on fire. He clamped his eyes and mouth shut as the thin fingers dipped into his rather revealing boxers.
And for the rest of Kurt's years, no matter how long or how hard he tried to, he would never forget the unimaginably arousing noises Finn made when he was finally able to really touch him.
Finn felt himself shudder, and everything about the mailman, about reality, everything but the way Kurt was pressed against him, of his talent fingers wrapped so perfectly around him, disappeared. They hit that point of ecstasy together, Finn whispering Kurt's name into the countertenor's ear, and gasped into each others mouths as they met in a hard, burning kiss.
Later, when they had cleaned themselves off and climbed, exhausted, back into bed, Finn reached over and pushed a hand through Kurt's perfect hair, mussing it in a messy way that Kurt had never allowed anyone to do before.
"Beautiful." He whispered, a tired grin tugging at his mouth. Kurt smoothed a hand down Finn's muscled arm like he was trying to memorize every vein, every detail.
Christmas morning didn't go as planned.
But frankly, Kurt wouldn't have had it any other way.
Reviews make me happy. Just sayin'.
Happy Christmas, all.