AN: I swear I don't just write smut. This and the last story (Keep You Under My Skin) were written a little while ago, I just forgot to post them here. This story was written for the beautiful doona_rose who needed some cheering up.
"It was a B, Kurt. He gave me a fucking B!" Blaine flops onto Kurt's bed, seething, muscles vibrating with contained aggravation.
"Come on Blaine, it's not that bad is it?" Blaine twitches his shoulder away from Kurt's tentatively patting hand, grunting into the duvet before pushing himself up.
"It is, Kurt! How am I going to get into Columbia if I keep letting my grades slip like this? I don't even…" He's gesturing wildly, red face a picture of frustration, "How did I even…I don't get…look at this part, where he says-"
"Blaine," Kurt pulls his boyfriend back from where he is currently bent over, digging through a bag full of papers. "I've read it. I still don't know what he meant by that. You still don't know. Going over it again isn't going to make you less angry."
Huffing, Blaine falls back against the pillows again, face up this time. His face is settling into a familiar pout.
"Come on, there's nothing you can do right now. You need to just relax, and tomorrow you can make an appointment to talk to Mr. Hastle about the paper."
"Kurt," The combination of acid and stubborn in Blaine's voice is a little startling because Blaine rarely makes it past frustrated and annoyed to actual anger, "How the hell am I supposed to relax when my whole academic future is hanging in the balance? The fact that I'm not graduating from Dalton is going to hurt my chances enough, I need to have perfect grades. There's no margin for error here. Not if I'm going to follow you to New York and I really, really will, like, die, if I can't."
Oh god, Kurt thinks, and they call me a drama queen. He barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. While he is about 99% sure that one B is not actually going to ruin Blaine's academic career, he also understands that Blaine tends to be high strung about his grades. High strung enough to temporarily forget the other schools in New York he's set his sights on, or the fact that Kurt hasn't even received any word from his schools of choice. Kurt's smart enough to know that there are things he cannot control, one of which is the grade on Blaine's paper, and right now, he really, really doesn't feel like spending an evening dissecting some admittedly murky comments left by Mr. Hastle.
"Ok, come on. Take off your shirt."
"Uh…" The look on Blaine's face is priceless, equal parts hope and confusion. Kurt laughs lightly,
"Not for that you pervert." He reaches over and started tugging on the hem of Blaine's henley, "I'm going to give you a perfectly relaxing, platonic," Blaine sighs at the emphasis, "massage. You're wound way too tight." Not an unusual state of affairs, he thinks. Blaine spends so much time trying to please everyone, especially his parents. Keeping up the sort of pretense of cheer and good will and constant motion, he knows, is exhausting.
"Well, as nice as your platonic massage sounds, I can think of a few other things you could do to help me with my 'tension'." Blaine waggles his eyebrows in what he obviously hopes to be a suggestive manner.
"Oh my god did you just use air quotes?" Kurt smacks Blaine's arm playfully, "Stop being such a horndog." He leaves Blaine to deal with his own shirt, standing to search through his vanity for some scented massage oil he'd been given as a gift. He's never used it, but it smells wonderful. Turning back, he finds that Blaine has dutifully taken off his shirt and has to avert his eyes. He has to, otherwise he'll end up staring at Blaine's chest- the sprinkle of dark hair and oh god, the way his abs descend into a cut v right at his hips. And if he keeps staring, he'll want to, need to touch. He loves Blaine's body, loves the way it feels, tensing and trembling under his fingers, or lately, his tongue. They're pretty new to this- to sex and touching and there's still so much more left for them to learn, but he's pretty sure he'll never, ever tire of finding his way around Blaine's body. Which is neither here nor there, because this is supposed to be about relaxing Blaine, not winding himself up. Keeping his eyes on Blaine's, he continues in a slightly shaky voice.
"As nice as it may be to relieve your…tension," He quirks an eyebrow at the phrase, "My dad is going to be home in a little while. I do not want to start something we can't… " He pauses for emphasis, wicked grin in place, "Finish." His smile falters a little when Blaine leans forward, ghosting knuckles along his cheek, down his neck and over his abdomen, eyes bright and aware. Breathing deep, Kurt pushes at Blaine's shoulder until he acquiesces, ignoring nerves, lit and aching, aroused by the smallest of touches. Not the time, he reminds himself, as Blaine rolls over onto his stomach.
He takes a moment to admire the view. Blaine's shoulders are wide and nicely defined; his skin a wonderful olive tone, unmarked and soft. There's something about Blaine's back, the long lean muscles, the smooth curve of his spine, that tugs at Kurt in a sort of visceral way. Flushing, Kurt strips off his vest and tie, before laying a small kiss on Blaine's shoulder blade. He's regretting that his father will to be home soon; Blaine's skin against his lips is temptation and promise, the memory of hipbones against his fingertips, digging in hard; the look, that look, on Blaine's face. The one that only he has ever put there, when Blaine undone and unraveled and his.
Which is an entirely counterproductive line of thought. Kurt focuses instead on Blaine's muscles, working the oil into his skin, finding several large knots. Long minutes are lost once Kurt's eyes trained on the skin under his fingers, the sound of his hands and the oil, the fragrance, filling the air. Digging his thumbs in, he traces them from the small of Blaine's back, along the sweet curve of his spine and up through his shoulders, ignoring the way his lips prickle with want. Soon, Blaine begins to unwind, sighing and shifting into the pleasure of Kurt's strong hands, growing steadily more heavy-limbed. It's a struggle, ignoring the way Blaine's muscles ripple against his thighs, fighting the urge to follow his thumbs with his tongue, lapping at the dimples along the waistband of Blaine's pants.
Soon, and rather unfairly he thinks, Blaine is actually moaning, vocalizing pleasure that vibrates through the palms of Kurt's hands and rocketing heat through his limbs. He's so turned on right now and he is positive Blaine can tell. Skin tingling, he can feel the flush spreading over his body, grateful that Blaine is facing away, at least. Slowly, Kurt takes long, even breaths. Underneath him, Blaine is obviously relaxed, a pliant spread of arms and legs. He's running his hands up and down the smooth expanse of skin, watching Blaine breathing deeply, long lashes fanning against his cheekbones. Kurt thinks he could watch Blaine like this, relaxed and young and unguarded, forever.
The phone ringing breaks through the silence, startling them both; Blaine more so than Kurt, as he'd been on the verge of sleep. He jolts hard enough to buck Kurt half off of him, nearly flinging him to the floor. Next to him, Kurt is cursing under his breath and trying to reach his phone while disentangling himself from Blaine. Too sleepy to really be bothered to help, Blaine relaxes back into Kurt's bed. He loves Kurt's bed; it's so soft and it smells incredible, like Kurt and everything wonderful in his life really and he just felt so at home and warm in it.
He drifts, Kurt's voice in the background just another layer of comfort, compelling him to let go and drop off and into sleep. Blaine barely registers when Kurt hangs up; doesn't move when he feels Kurt's hand stroking softly down his shoulder, one finger tracing along his bicep.
"Blaaaaiiiine."
Kurt voice is in his ear, playful and rich; slowly Blaine pulls himself into awareness. Above him, Kurt is shifting, pressing himself along Blaine's back, breath warm, whispering his name again before biting gently at his ear, lips catching as they trail down, slow and sure, leaving a slickened path from neck to shoulder.
"Hrng…ughh..Kurt." Blaine tries to move, confused and a little turned on, "What are you…oh ummm…" Kurt presses against him a little harder, grinding down a bit; something Blaine really isn't prepared to resist, although he's certainly willing to try, "Your Dad...home- fuck, Kurt!" But Kurt is rocking against him, breath heavy and sweet against the back of his neck, fingers digging into his bicep and whimpering a little and suddenly he's rocking too, up against Kurt and as he starts to feel himself harden, down against the bed, helplessly turned on.
"He's running late, some campaign thing…oh…he's taking Carole to dinner, and…" Kurt's voice trails off as Blaine grinds his ass up against him, hands coming up and around to his hips, grabbing and pulling him closer, harder, hitching him up just a bit. "Ugh, crap," Kurt pauses, panting and clutching at Blaine's shoulders, shuddering.
"Stupid jeans, so tight." Kurt moves away, leaving Blaine shivering in the darkening room. Blaine starts to roll over, stopping when Kurt presses one hand to his shoulder. "No...can you just…" Kurt sounds hesitant, a little shy. When Blaine turns his head to crack open one eye, he finds Kurt flushed a hard red. Eyes closing, Kurt takes a deep breath, and when they open the blue is dark, his smile tentative but sweet. He's on his knees, kissing Blaine's cheek, temple, neck; his hand is pressing and dipping, down his back and over his ass.
"I want to try something new." It's hot, tone laden with promise and desire. Blaine nods, watches Kurt stand and strip off his clothes slowly, back turned, and when he angles his face back, it's smirking and aware it takes Blaine's breath away. It's not just seeing Kurt naked, although that's incredible and he's sure he'll never get used to it. It's seeing Kurt vulnerable, unlayered and exposed in a way no one else has, or he hopes, will.
"Yeah, sure, of course."
Up on his elbows, he watches Kurt fold his jeans carefully, lean muscles flexing; his mouth waters, tongue aching to trace and lave at Kurt's smooth skin. Kurt turns, squaring his shoulders bravely, Blaine's gaze is hungry and unabashed, taking in the pale length of torso and leg, his cock, beautiful and hard, flushing red and wanting. Kurt doesn't let him move, coming to drape over Blaine's body, skin hot and hard against Blaine's back.
He sets his teeth to Blaine's neck, dragging one hand over his shoulder, leaning to the side so he can hoist Blaine up a bit. He pauses, fingers at Blaine's nipple, swallowing Blaine's groan as he scratches, light and teasing at it before moving, over the lines of abs and over jutting hipbones, coming to rest at the button of Blaine's jeans. It takes a bit, and Blaine has to help, but they together manage to wrestle them open and Kurt is there, mouthing at his spine, at the dimples in his back, tugging jeans down and following their path with his mouth, biting tentatively at the rounded flesh of Blaine's ass. When Blaine arches and moans into the touch, he can feel Kurt's smile, triumph searing through the pads of gentle fingers which are tracing and pressing up his body with possession and confidence.
Kurt moves up his body with purpose, humming approval over the sound of Blaine's labored breathing. Careful and slow he settles, nudging Blaine's knees apart with his so that he can lay spread and flushing against him, cock hard and heavy, leaking precome where it is nestled.
"Oh wow." His voice is breathy, thinning, turning to a whimper when Blaine moves to roll over again. "No, no, not yet." Aware that he's almost begging, Kurt pushes down, mouthing at the skin of Blaine's back. "Just…let me…god your back…" They've touched, explored- brought each other to orgasm, but never like this. It's always been face to face, intimate and close; and god this feels intimate, but in a completely new way, in a way that's raw and a little dirty and unhinged. Running his hands down Blaine's tensed arms, Kurt takes Blaine's hands, threading his fingers through and bringing them up, over Blaine's head, taking advantage of the leverage and shift to press hard into the cleft of Blaine's ass. They both moan, reaching and aching for something, just a little more.
It's hard, when he feels Kurt shift, retrieving what he knows to be a bottle of lube, to keep quiet through his wondering. But he wants Kurt to know, to feel the weight of his trust; he remains still, turned on and curious and wanting. Kurt's hand is tentative, tracing slick and warm between his thighs; he parts them reflexively, biting down on a mouthful of comforter when he feels a finger slide between his cheeks, barely touching all the way down to his balls. Shivering, he arches into the touch, feeling Kurt press harder, less unsure, guided by his whimpers. Kurt's lips are on his shoulder, gentle whisper ghosting across his spine.
"Is this ok?" Blaine squeezes his eyes shut and nods. Kurt's hand is spreading more lube generously between his thighs and then he's there, laying over him, covering his back and bracketing his legs along the outside of Blaine's. Understanding hits Blaine hard, arousal spiking to the point of pain; he's already rutting up against the bed when Kurt's erection slides between his thighs, startling hot and full and god, just so right.
"Tighter." Voice wrecked, Kurt is breaking against him, one hand seeking his in the rumpled bedding, gripping tight, face pressed hard against the back of his neck. Blaine squeezes his thighs around him, moaning; Kurt is gasping, open mouthed, shamelessly begging, all stuttered words, praise and need. Blaine shifts when he feels a hand at his hip,
"Blaine…oh, oh…want you to…" Understanding, he moves, wrapping one arm behind him to hold Kurt close, blindly guiding him to keep moving as the settle on their sides.
"Yes, please, please…" Blaine has to bite down on his lip again when he feels Kurt's hand, still slick with lube, around him. He's embarrassingly on edge, overwhelmed by the feeling of Kurt so close to him, so intimate and heavy between his legs. It's wet and his nails are digging in to Kurt's ass which is flexing as they hesitate, trying to find a rhythm between Kurt's hand on his cock and his thrusts. It's an awkward angle and Kurt isn't able to do much more than hold him while Blaine fucks himself, slow and stuttering, into the tight circle of his fist.
"Oh, ohmygod, oh god." Kurt's rocking is becoming more erratic, he's working himself into Blaine's thighs, hard, and Blaine can feel it, fissions of lightning tightening his stomach and throat. Desperate, he pushes harder, Kurt feels filthy and perfect slipping between his thighs, all wanton abandon, biting at his shoulder.
"BlaineBlaineBlaine." He can feel the sting of Kurt's teeth, the warmth and throb as Kurt comes between his legs, shuddering and forceful and then he's gasping and crying out, coming into Kurt's hand, arching and tensing, one hand gripping the pillow near his head and the other laying bruises into Kurt's hip behind him.
He comes down slowly, feeling Kurt heavy against his back. They breathe together for a while; Kurt's free hand stroking at his arm gently when his laugh breaks into the air, a sound somehow bright and sharp.
"Hmmm?" Sleepy and incoherent in the wake of orgasm, Blaine struggles to focus as Kurt trills, contented and amused.
"You were right, this was way better than my platonic backrub plan." Kurt's voice is soft and open. His body is limp, breath slowing where his face is nuzzled into the space between Blaine's shoulder blades. He struggles for a pithy reply, but can't. Soon, he'll need to move, he's covered in come and shivering a bit, but not yet. He can't even remember why he'd needed a backrub in the first place.
"Cold?" Kurt's whisper is hushed, slurred with sleep and Blaine nods but snuggles closer.
"Don't wanna move." He can't, not yet. He's boneless, feeling cherished and loved, wrapped in Kurt's arms and his smell.
"Don't. I'll do it." Blaine has to restrain the whimper, cold air rushing against his cooling skin. Kurt moves carefully in the darkening room, coming back almost noiselessly with a warm washcloth. It's painfully intimate, the way he cleans Blaine. They don't speak; Blaine feels more naked than he ever has, exposed and trusting, eyes wide and trained on Kurt.
When Kurt comes back, climbing over Blaine and pulling the comforter over them, he settles back, lifting his head to settle it on Kurt's arm, shivering into the warmth.
"Love you, K." He hears Kurt's happy hum, it's an endearment he rarely uses. Kurt's arm around his waist tightens in reply; he's just drifting off when he feels rather than hears Kurt's whispered I love you, sewing its way into his skin.