It was far from perfect. There was barely a rhythm. There were no candles and no rose petals. But it was Kurt. And it was Blaine, together and making that connection again. The connection was one that once it was made, there was no forgetting, the entire dynamic of everything would change. Making love was something special, not something to be tossed around. It was meant for people in love, not knee deep in a high school relationship.
There was pain. Cold, wet, stinging pain as the first finger was slowly pressed in. All the movement stopped. His breath was shallow, attempts to relax his muscles were slowly playing out. A short nod let them continue.
No, it wasn't his first time, but the delicate fingers moving about inside were those of inexperience. Those that had never touched or been touched in a way so intimate. Neither boy knew exactly what they were doing despite one's experience.
Another finger slid its way in past the ring of muscle. Low, deep groans slipped out of the writhing boy's bruised lips as his eyes fell, suddenly wanting more. Wanting everything. Two heavy hands found the arms of the blue eyed boy gripping him tight like he would fly away if he were to let go.
The fingers twisted, turned, and crooked towards the heart of all pleasure inside his lover. His name tumbled out with a string of curses. It had never sounded so beautiful before. Just a whisper, but it made him realize he was the one doing this. He was making his normally so composed partner fall apart at the seams with just a touch of his fingertips.
At the sudden withdraw of the younger boy's fingers, he felt empty. So open and so empty. He longed for the familiar touch to return. A quick hiss, a mixture of pain and pleasure, escaped him as his lover pressed their hips together slowly. Kisses were peppered over his spine, neck, shoulder, as far as he could possibly reach. Their hands touched every inch of the boy in front of them, seeking out as much flesh just to feel.
They found a steady, clumsy rhythm, meeting each other half way between them. There were sharp gasps and loud moans filling the otherwise silent room. The felt the familiar heat gathering in the pit of their stomachs, ready, needing a release. The rhythm was gone as fast as it was found, the thrusts uneven and sporadically coming until they couldn't keep it together anymore.
They held each other tight while their bodies convulsed in unison. Eventually the shaking stopped and every muscle started to relax. The boys' breaths slowed, and they simply stared at the boy beside them. A few soft kisses were shared before either dared to move.
It far from perfect. There was barely a rhythm. There were no candles and no rose petals. But it was Kurt. And it was Blaine, together they made that connection again.