GKM prompt: www . glee-kink-meme . livejournal com 38839 . html ? thread = 51515831
Notes: This is the porniest porn I've ever written (so far?). It was fun. (Confession time: my favourite parts to write were the bits surrounding the smut. Also I have no idea how designing, tailoring or red carpet interviews work, so just go with it and please don't throw rotten fruit at me. It's not good for my complexion.)
Title shamelessly taken from Barney from How I Met Your Mother.
For a disorienting moment, Blaine wondered why his brother sounded like a jazz band; when he realised it was, in fact, his phone ringing, he swore, startled out of bed, and got so tangled up in the blankets that he landed back on his mattress with a heavy whump and a groan.
"'Ne min't," he moaned as he phone started ringing again.
He picked up his phone and idiotically pointed it right at his face, making him squint and groan again at the insufferably bright light. He blindly swept his thumb across the screen and then held it up to his ear.
"Whassup?" he asked blearily.
"For fuck's sake, Blaine, did I seriously just wake you up? It's ten! You have to be at the studio in half an hour!"
All Blaine could do for a second was think dumbly, until Sam's words hit his adrenalin centre and shocked him into action. "Shit!"
"Blaine! Blaine!" Sam shouted to get Blaine's attention back to his phone and away from hopping around his room like a madman as he got dressed.
"Yeah?" Blaine panted. He turned to leave his room – complete with closed drapes, but those would have to be dealt with later – but tripped over a dirty pair of boxers. He landed on the floor with a thump.
"The gist is: we've hired one of New York's best designers to make your suit for the Oscars."
"What about Tina?" Blaine asked, and then he bit a large chunk out of an apple as he ran out of his apartment.
"The three of you have a meeting on Wednesday – I've put it in your calender already, it's at five. Got all that?"
"Good morning, Mr Anderson," Blaine's valet greeted. Blaine smiled and waved.
"Morning, Matt. Yep, Sam, got it – suit, Wednesday, five. Tina's office?"
"Hole in one."
Blaine sighed in relief as Matt started the engine and they rolled out the garage. "Thank you so much, Sam. I have no idea what I'd do without you."
"Oversleep and never get anything done," Sam teased.
Blaine laughed. "You are the absolute best manager a guy could hope for."
"Tell that to my wallet."
"I pay you fine." Blaine shook his head. "So what's the designer's name?"
"You ever heard of Kurt Hummel?"
"Seriously?! Of course I've heard of Kurt Hummel! He was Vogue's hottest topic for like three months in a row last year! Kurt Hummel's gonna be making my suit?"
Sam laughed. "Just try not to slobber all over him when you meet him, all right? You overgrown spaniel..." he added under his breath.
"I heard that," Blaine sang, and he didn't even joke about firing Sam this time. He just couldn't wait to meet Kurt Hummel.
Blaine was actually a very punctual person, despite his habit to sleep in (although that was his bed's fault for being so damn comfortable rather than his own). The following Wednesday, he was at his stylist's office at quarter to five, which meant he had to wait outside for Tina's previous meeting (or whatever she was doing) to finish.
At ten to five, movement in Blaine's peripheral vision made him look up from his game of Angry Birds, and then he promptly lost the level. Because Kurt Hummel had just walked through the doors and, god, he was even more gorgeous in person.
Now, Blaine, he told himself, you've met tons of famous people before – this one is no different.
It was a total lie, of course, because Kurt Hummel was stunning and majestic and created some of the most beautiful clothes Blaine had ever seen and only wished he'd be able to pull off, and in all his interviews he was witty and humble, and they'd grown up less than two hours away from each other, and Blaine had had a huge crush on him for years.
"Hi, Blaine Anderson!"
A bright voice pulled Blaine out of his trance, and he looked up. A smile tugged at his lips automatically, which was a very good thing, otherwise Blaine may have ended up gawking because Kurt Hummel just spoke to him. (Blaine was well aware of how he sounded, thank you very much.)
"Hi," he returned. "Just Blaine is fine. And you're Kurt Hummel, right? I love your most recent collection – the accessories especially. I must have bought at least half of your bow ties." Blaine quickly pressed his lips together because he needed to stop talking right now or he was going to embarrass himself beyond repair and then Kurt wouldn't want to work with him and he would never talk to him again.
Kurt's face had gone bright pink, and his smile was wide. "Thank you so much! I'm a huge fan of yours, too. Pass Go is one of my favourite songs. But, can I tell you something?" He took the seat next to Blaine and leaned in close enough to that Blaine's entire vision was Kurt's face, twinkling eyes and coy smirk and pink cheeks, and his nose was invaded with the scent of what was probably a very expensive cologne, and Blaine could barely think beyond 'he's a huge fan!'.
"Of course," Blaine choked out.
Kurt's smirk grew. "Just Kurt is fine."
Warmth bloomed in Blaine's chest and a grin spread across his face.
Of course, that would be when Tina opened her door.
The meeting didn't last for more than twenty minutes, though a combination of not having much to say and sitting barely two feet away from Kurt made it seem like much longer. Fifteen minutes was spent discussing different fabrics (cashmere, of course) and cuts (single-breasted, peaked lapel, slim) and colours (black with hints of green) and accessories (gold cuff links, no pocket square, no waistcoat, but Blaine won the bow tie). The final five minutes were spent Tina and Kurt arguing over whether Kurt needed to take his own measurements because he didn't trust Tina's, although Kurt insisted he just had a system about which he was anal.
Kurt glanced over to Blaine when he said that, and Blaine's mouth went very dry.
"I don't mind, Tina," Blaine finally broke in. She glared at him as if he were betraying her, and he held up his hands in self-defence. "If Kurt uses a system which – works for him" he could absolutely not say 'anal', not when there was a bit too much blood in the southern end of his body already "then how you've measured me might not translate well anyway."
"Fine," Tina huffed, rolling her eyes. "Kurt, do you want to borrow my measuring tape?"
"No, I'll be fine, thank you," Kurt replied with a sincere smile which made Tina relax.
"All right. I'll just leave you two to it, then?" she suggested, and Kurt nodded. "You can use the room through there – just don't knock anything over or move anything round. My next appointment isn't until six so take your time."
"Thank you, Tina," Kurt said and rose elegantly from his chair. Blaine licked his lips and nodded at his stylist as he followed Kurt into the next room, where they would be on their own and Kurt would be feeling him up and oh, god, how was Blaine going to survive this?
Kurt faced away from Blaine, putting his satchel on a clear space on Tina's work bench. Blaine lingered by the now closed door, unable to tear his eyes away from the tight fit of Kurt's pants. They followed the shape of Kurt's ass and his thighs and then went straight down from the knee. Blaine tried to stop looking, he honestly did, but the grey vest Kurt was wearing was nipped in at the waist and flared a little at the hem of Kurt's pants and just drew his attention right back to the other man's very fine buttocks.
Then Kurt was turning around which Blaine could tell because Kurt's ass looked amazing in profile. It took a moment for it to hit Blaine that he was staring and Kurt was turning around and he quickly snapped his eyes back up to Kurt's face. The meticulously styled man was smirking a little and his cheeks were faintly pink, and Blaine's own cheeks felt like a furnace.
"Sorry, did you say something?" he asked, voice embarrassingly high and breaking on the final word.
"I asked if you'd mind taking your jacket off. So I can get your measurements easier."
"Sure. Right. Of course, yeah."
Kurt's lips tightened, clearly trying not to laugh, and Blaine just wanted to sink through the floor in embarrassment. Or die, dying worked too. Clearly, he should just stick to singing.
Blaine lay his jacket across a random surface and turned back around to Kurt, who had got out a tape measure and was now smoothing it with unnecessarily slow strokes. Blaine's eyes went wide and cheeks heated (you're neither a teenager nor a virgin, Anderson, stop acting like one) and he forced himself to breathe slowly to calm down before asking, "Shall we get started then?"
"It would be my pleasure, Blaine," Kurt said. One side of his mouth curled up in a coy smirk and he walked over slowly, twining the tape around his fingers. "I'll start from the top. Arms out."
Blaine nodded. He knew how to do this. He was measured regularly by Tina and various stylists at shoots – getting measured was just another routine by now.
Kurt's fingers brushed the bare skin above his shirt collar, brushing against the base of his neck. Blaine shivered. "S-sorry," he said, trying not to shiver again when Kurt peeked at him from the corner of his eye. "Sens—ticklish spot."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Kurt started again, placing the end of the tape measure at the top of Blaine's shoulder this time. But Blaine only had a moment of relief because then Kurt was running the tape down his arm, pressing his fingers so that the cool plastic lay flat on Blaine's suddenly overly warm skin until he reached Blaine's hand. Kurt let the end go, brushed his nails across the back of Blaine's hand, and made a note on his iPad. On which there was a long list of measurements still to be made.
Oh, Blaine was so, so screwed.
The measuring of Blaine's left arm was the much the same, with the light press of cool fingers and plastic to hot skin. It was hard – difficult, difficult – not to stare at Kurt like either a lecherous predator or a smitten puppy, but he was at least managing to keep his arousal a secret because while it was buzzing under his skin, it hadn't yet made it to his cock.
But then Kurt stepped closer, and his expensive scent wafted into Blaine's nose again. He sucked in a deep breath before he could stop himself, but he was broken out of his trance by Kurt's quiet chuckle.
"You'll need to breathe out for an accurate measurement, Blaine," he said, eyes glinting not more than five inches away. Blaine realised Kurt had put the tape measure around his chest – or, at least, he had started to, but he'd paused with his arms halfway around Blaine's body so that they were almost hugging.
Slowly, carefully, Blaine released his breath, and then almost sucked it back in at Kurt's smug little smile.
Kurt brought the tape measure together at the front of Blaine's chest, brushing over Blaine's hardened nipples (and ignoring the hitch in Blaine's breath). For a brief second, Kurt pulled the tape too tight against them, which made Blaine gasp out loud and his dick begin to harden.
"Breathe naturally, honey," Kurt murmured, and Blaine had to restrain a whimper.
When Kurt moved away to jot down Blaine's chest measurement, Blaine took a moment to try and calm himself down. He almost succeeded – his erection wasn't quite so . . . erection-y – but then Kurt moved back into his personal space and came within inches of his suddenly very erection-y erection to wrap the tape measure around Blaine's waist. His third fingers dragged under the run of the tape and Blaine squirmed when Kurt touched his sides and again just to the right of his belly button.
"More ticklish spots?" Kurt asked quietly. Blaine just nodded. Kurt checked the measurement and his tongue flicked across his bottom lip, and Blaine gaped. "You have a very small waist," he commented louder, eyes darting down and then away to his iPad to take a note. There was a blush forming across the top of his cheeks and down the back of his neck. "You can put your arms down now."
The shoulder measurement across his back and his arm width measurements included a light squeeze to his biceps. Blaine tensed them when he felt Kurt's hands drifting too low, and a short, sweet giggle burst out of Kurt.
A giggle. An honest-to-God giggle. Blaine would never, ever be over his crush on this man.
The metal at the tip of the tape measure was a shock against his overheated neck, making Blaine gasp. Kurt murmured a sorry and breathed on the end, like doctors did with their stethoscopes, but instead of moving it away, he moved closer, and nothing Blaine could do would have been able to stop him from shuddering at the warm breath across his skin.
Kurt smoothed the tape down the line of his spine, and Blaine had to bite his lip hard to hold back another gasp. Kurt stopped at Blaine's coccyx and, after a short pause, let out what was unmistakeably – if almost imperceptibly – a soft, high-pitched moan.
Blaine cleared his throat. "You know," he said, his voice still a bit too rough, "I've always thought my ass was one of my best features. Made a lot of 'ass-et' jokes in high school."
"I can - I can see why," Kurt replied. His voice was equally raspy, and at a breathy pitch, and that combined with the little wiggle Blaine did which unexpectedly caused the front of his jeans to rub against his cock surprised a low groan out of him.
Kurt's hands disappeared and then were back within seconds on his hips, accompanied moments later by the heat of Kurt's body near his back. Kurt's hands ran across the curve of the top of Blaine's ass and followed the hem of his jeans around to his front. Blaine heard Kurt take a quick breath, only because his mouth was so close to Blaine's ear, and then when Kurt let go of the tape measure, his hand dropped down to brush against the bulge in Blaine's jean. Blaine's body went complete rigid in an effort not to buck forward at the unexpected – but should really have been totally expected – contact.
"That's the top half done," Kurt said. Blaine shifted his legs apart automatically before the full meaning of those words hit him.
Kurt would be kneeling in front of him. Touching his legs. Face right in front of Blaine's stupidly hard dick. Oh, hell.
While Kurt was moving around, settling on the floor and settling his iPad down and collecting the wayward end of the measuring tape, he cleared his throat, and his shoulders relaxed.
"I forgot to say earlier," Kurt said, sounding much more together than he had a few moments ago, "I really like your shoes."
"Thanks," Blaine said, not even trying to smile. Kurt looked up at him and – that was not a good angle. Not at all. Oh, god, Blaine hadn't been this turned on since his second boyfriend, and he didn't remember ever having so much foreplay. Was this foreplay? He hoped it was foreplay. It would probably be so unethical but he so didn't care about ethics right now.
Blaine looked away to Tina's fabric desk on the other side of the room so he wouldn't have to look down at Kurt in such an enticing position.
But then, of course, he couldn't see what Kurt was doing, and even through the thicker denim Kurt's fingers left a trail of fire in their wake. He started from the bottom, measuring Blaine's ankles to his knees and then his knees to his hips, and the closer Kurt got to Blaine's crotch, the harder it was for Blaine to breathe.
All that was left to do now was Blaine's in-seam. He really hoped he wouldn't come in his pants like the virginal teenager he hadn't been for eight years now. He was only marginally embarrassed by the fact that he was aroused, now he definitely knew Kurt was interested, too, but if he orgasmed he would be so humiliated he'd have to change his name and move to a village deep in the South American jungle with nothing but his guitar.
It seemed to take forever for Kurt's fingers and tape to travel up from the inside of Blaine's ankle to the top of his thigh, touching Blaine's cock through his jeans almost deliberately, and Blaine couldn't hold back a whimper. And then, instead of moving away and starting on the other side of Blaine's in-seam the same way, Kurt just twisted the tape measure around, rubbing against the head of his dick even more when he had to change the length of the tape. Blaine bit his lip, squeezed his eyes tightly closed and clenched his hands into fists which he couldn't hold still. His breath came out in sharp pants through his nose as he tried to control himself.
And then the pressure was gone, and Blaine whined at the back of his throat.
"I'll have your suit ready by next Friday, Mr Anderson," Kurt said breathlessly. His eyes still closed, Blaine jumped when he felt fingers on his cheeks and a thumb run across his lips. He opened his mouth and sucked lightly on Kurt's thumb, and then that was Kurt's lips against the corner of his own and Kurt's nose and breath against his cheek and Kurt's hair against his temple.
When Blaine was able to open his eyes without coming, he was just in time to see Kurt and his tight pants and gorgeous ass disappear behind the door.
From Blaine
Hi, Kurt. This is Blaine Anderson, you're, uh, making my Oscars suit? I hope it's okay I have your number. I asked Sam who asked Mercedes.
From Kurt
Hi, Blaine! You must like my bow ties an awful lot to get your manager to brave The Demon Assistant, and for my personal number too.
From Blaine
The Demon Assistant? Really? Well, from what I heard, there were a few too many of Sam's weird flirty faces for Mercedes to have been at all terrifying. And I liked a lot more than just your bow ties . . .
From Kurt
Unless Sam has a hidden kinky side.
Oh god please forget I said that.
I'm guessing my socks aren't one of the things you like, considering you never wear them unless you're forced to.
From Blaine
Stalking, are we? ;)
Also, socks are for squares and snow days.
From Kurt
You just couldn't put socks on as a kid, could you?
From Blaine
My mom is taking the answer to that to the grave.
From Kurt
Ha! Knew it.
By the way, should I be worried if Sam's making weird flirty faces? Mercedes has been my best friend since high school and I don't want her to be hurt.
From Blaine
You have nothing to worry about, I promise. Sam's weird flirty faces are his genuine ones – it's if he's looking cool that he's just messing around. I'd ask you the same question but you're too nice to surround yourself with mean people.
From Kurt
Thank you.
You are, too. Nice, I mean. Just, Mercedes has been hurt in the past.
From Blaine
It's fine, Kurt. :)
Soooooo, how's my suit coming along?
From Kurt
Ah, and the truth is revealed.
From Blaine
Only a bit.
From Kurt
It'll be ready by Friday, if that's what you're worried about. It's going to look absolutely stunning.
From Blaine
I wouldn't expect anything less from Kurt Hummel.
From Kurt
See you on Friday?
From Blaine
See you on Friday. :)
From Kurt
I have to ask: do you know what colours your date is wearing? This is such a beautiful suit it would be a shame to clash.
From Blaine
As it stands, no date.
From Kurt
Oh.
Well, that was awkward.
From Blaine
LOL, not at all!
Wait, does this mean my suit's finished?
From Kurt
That's for me to know and you to find out. On Friday.
From Blaine
I can't wait! I'm so excited to see you!
And the suit.
Of course.
From Kurt
Of course.
From Blaine
I'll see you on Friday. :)
From Kurt
See you on Friday. :)
I am too, by the way.
Blaine had almost been late to his tailoring appointment on Friday, purely because he'd been debating how presumptuous and obnoxious versus awesomely prepared it would be to take a condom and a small bottle of lube with him. He'd eventually decided against it, both because he wasn't an douchebag and because he didn't want to risk anyone seeing or, god forbid, get pictures of the stuff.
Maybe Kurt would have thought ahead and brought some stuff with him instead. Blaine hoped so. He really hoped he hadn't been imagining last week (extremely unlikely), or that he'd scared Kurt off with his many texts (highly improbable), or that Kurt already had a boyfriend or had found one in the past few days (he could only keep his fingers and toes crossed).
Anyway, he was ninety-eight percent certain he'd be having some sort of sex with Kurt Hummel in the near future, and ninety percent certain Blaine would be able to convince Kurt on a date afterwards, and he'd wanted to be early to his appointment to allow maximum time for both of those endeavours.
The woman at the reception sent Blaine straight through to Kurt's workroom, and Kurt's face lit up when he saw Blaine. Blaine's heart fluttered and a grin spread across his face. He made a split second decision and kissed Kurt's cheek. To his delight, Kurt smiled wider and his cheeks pinked.
"Well, then." Kurt floundered for a moment. "Let's try your suit on." While Kurt removed Blaine's suit - which really was, in Blaine's unbiased opinion, one of the most beautiful suits he'd ever seen – from a mannequin, Blaine set down his bag and jacket over a stool. When Kurt turned back around, his eyes darted down Blaine's body. Blaine would have thought the other man was just taking inventory of his outfit, since he'd confessed he always did that in an interview once, if it weren't for the small smirk and the way his pupils had grown. Blaine winked as he sauntered over to Kurt to get the suit and then away to change behind the partition. He knew suspenders had been a good idea - they really drew attention to his ass.
The suit was perfect, not that Blaine expected anything less from Kurt Hummel. The man was a wizard with a needle, which Blaine had admired since before Kurt even had his own fashion house. It slipped on and Blaine took a moment to smile while creepily stroking the arm of the jacket, and not just because he loved the feel of cashmere.
"Et voila!" he announced, stepping out from behind the partition. Kurt looked over and stared at him for a moment, and then he blinked and smiled and there was no way Blaine was imagining that blush.
"C'est magnifique," Kurt said. He cleared his throat, took Blaine's hand and led him over to the mirror. Blaine's heart thumped and his skin tingled, and he couldn't resist peeking at Kurt's behind. After all, if he did insist on wearing such tight jeans . . .
After Kurt let go of Blaine's hand, he was all business. Blaine admired his reflection - the suit mostly, of course, but he had long grown past his teenage insecurities about his body – but quickly changed to watching Kurt circle him, examining the fit of the outfit.
And then Kurt started touching him, pinching at the material and shaping it to Blaine's body, sweeping his hands in broad strokes across Blaine's back and chest and down his arms. Blaine's head was starting to spin before he realised he wasn't breathing.
"The jacket won't need much tweaking. Your – the shoulders are perfect, although the waist needs to be taken in." Kurt pulled on the waist, tightening it so Blaine could see the change. Blaine nodded, although the only thing he paid attention to was the weight of Kurt's hands on his lower back. Then Kurt's hands were unashamedly on Blaine's ass, which Blaine hadn't been expecting to the extent that it made him jump. "The length of the pants is good," Kurt continued, voice breathy and eyes dancing, "but the seat needs to be taken in."
"Are you telling me I have a big ass?" Blaine asked, making his voice deeper. He met Kurt's eyes in the mirror and was delighted to see Kurt's tongue flick across his lips.
"Nothing to be ashamed of," Kurt quipped. "I like your ass – I'd hate to hide it."
"I'd hate to spoil your view." Blaine grinned and winked at Kurt's reflection. His pupils were disproportionately large for the lighting in the room, and Blaine's probably weren't much better but finding out would mean looking away from Kurt.
"I just need to pin the fabric," Kurt said, "and then we'll take you out of it, shall we?"
The arousal which had been buzzing under Blaine's skin since he'd stepped through the reception doors escalated into a suddenly half-hard dick. Blaine should have been embarrassed by how exposed and obvious he was to Kurt – again – but the way Kurt's pupils had grown even bigger assuaged any negativity and guaranteed Blaine that Kurt wouldn't slap him and then sue him when Blaine kissed the man once he was out of the suit.
There was a cushion of pins attached to Kurt's wrist, and he deftly started pinning the fabric into it's new shape. In less than a minute, the jacket was finished with, and Kurt carefully helped Blaine slide his arms out the sleeves. Then Kurt knelt down behind Blaine. He couldn't remember if he was usually touched this much during fittings, but he was really focusing more on controlling his breathing and trying not to let his dick get too hard because that would probably throw off the measurements and then everyone would know, oh God.
"All done," Kurt's soft voice broke through Blaine's haze of lust. "You can take your clothes off now."
"I don't know," Blaine said, his voice heavy and completely destroying his attempt at a flirtatious tone, and he turned around to look down at Kurt, "I think I might need some help. I don't want to accidentally stab myself or knock out any of the pins."
"Well, in that case." Kurt's eyes danced. His irises were almost completely swollen by pupil now, and his shallow breaths matched Blaine's. He undid the button and zip on the pants, and as he pulled them down, brushing his hands on Blaine's bare legs, he licked his lips and stared at Blaine's erection, which was made all the more obvious by the way his dress shirt hung around it.
"Kurt," Blaine said, completely unembarrassed about how his voice cracked, and then with a quick smirk Kurt pulled down his briefs and his mouth was on him, hot and tight and wonderfully wet, and Blaine couldn't stop his hips from jerking forwards or his hands from threading through Kurt's hair. "Oh god Kurt don't stop."
Kurt drew back, and Blaine whined in protest. "You say that now," Kurt said, his breath cool over Blaine's dick and his eyes alight with promises that made Blaine's balls tighten. Then Kurt sank back down, far enough so that the head of Blaine's cock bumped against the back of his throat, and he swallowed. Blaine's legs buckled, and as he landed on the floor Kurt was coughing.
"Oh god, Kurt, I'm so sorry," he said. Kurt waved a hand and blinked away the water in his eyes.
"It's fine." He smirked and slowly crawled over to Blaine, hips swaying, lips swollen and red, and goddamn if it wasn't the hottest thing Blaine had ever seen. He half-lay on the floor frozen, watching Kurt come closer and then going willingly when Kurt was on top of him and pushing on his sternum so he would be lying down completely. He leaned down so Blaine couldn't see anything but those supernova eyes and purred, "I think I'll take it as a compliment."
"Fuck," Blaine breathed, and then dragged Kurt down the rest of the way to crash their mouths together in a dirty, messy kiss. Kurt moaned but then pulled back with a gasp, his eyes wide.
"Oh my god, the suit!"
"Then get me out of it!"
Kurt made quick work of undressing Blaine the rest of the way – he spent more time making sure the pins were still place and the suit wasn't damaged or stained than anything else, until Blaine tugged down the other man's own pants and underwear and started sucking on his hip.
"I don't have anything," Kurt said quickly, hurriedly pulling his sweater over his head and knocking his hair out of place.
"We'll just do this," and then Blaine yanked Kurt forwards so he was lying on top of his again and grabbed his ass (god, it feels even better than it looks) to rub their cocks together. He arched his body and thrust up at the same moment, and bit Kurt's top lip, which served to pull Kurt back into the mood and he took over as the driving force of their frotting. He panted into Blaine's mouth and bit down his jaw and neck and collar bone and only sucked harder when Blaine groaned. Blaine reached between their bodies to line up their dicks, and when the tip of his cockhead caught against Kurt's that was it.
Blaine orgasmed with a yell, his come slicking between their stomachs, and as he lay on Kurt's workshop floor regaining his breath Kurt sped up his thrusts, his cock following the groove of Blaine's hip. The slide was smooth and Kurt's low, breathy whines buzzed pleasantly under Blaine's skin, waiting for his dick to recover. With a little effort, he pushed himself up to suck on Kurt's neck, and he pressed his fingers against where he knew there were marks on Kurt's hips, and then it didn't take long for Kurt to come too. He didn't collapse on top of Blaine, but he rested their chests together while he caught his breath, and Blaine pecked kisses against all the skin he could reach while he ran his hand from Kurt's shoulder to bottom and back again, copping another feel and smiling at Kurt's amused huff.
"Hey, Kurt?"
"Mm?"
"Will you be my date to the Oscars?"
Kurt turned his head and gave Blaine a drawn out, lethargic kiss.
"I thought you'd never ask."
E! On The Red Carpet
"Now with us we have previous Oscar winner Blaine Anderson. Blaine, how do you feel about being nominated for yet another award?"
"Honestly, I'm stunned, and so honoured. Especially because this one's for a leading role! It's amazing!"
"Well, you deserve it. Your cast mates have been full of compliments, and your performance made both me and my mother cry."
[Blaine laughs bashfully.] "Thank you."
"Now, let's talk style – you're easily the best dressed man on the red carpet tonight."
[Blaine grins and reaches out of frame to pull fashion designer Kurt Hummel, who looks surprised, to his side. Blaine looks at him with hearts in his eyes while Kurt blushes and smiles.] "That's only because my suit was made by the most talented man in the country."
[The presenter glances at the camera with an excited grin.] "Kurt Hummel, informally the next Alexander McQueen—"
"Flattery will get you everywhere." [Kurt laughs brightly, obviously pleased by the compliment.]
"You made Blaine's suit last year as well, didn't you?"
"I did, though I think this one far surpasses it."
[Blaine lets go of Kurt's hand to wrap an arm around his waist and looks briefly at the presenter.] "Because we weren't strangers this time round."
"Does this mean what I think it means?"
[Both Blaine and Kurt laugh, and they smile at each other as if they're the only people on the planet.] "We've been dating for a little over a year now. No offence to last year's organisers and nominees, but Kurt was easily the best thing about last year's Oscars."
"Do you think we could get a kiss?"
[Kurt and Blaine grin at each other.] "I don't see why not." [Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt's neck and swings him across his body, and Kurt squeaks before wrapping his own arms around Blaine's neck. The crowd goes wild, drowning out the presenter, and Blaine's manager moves forward to signal the men to move on. They kiss for a little bit longer anyway. People around the world swoon.]