A/N: okay so this is a re-upload, because the original sucked and it had so many mistakes so I took it down, rewrote it and here it is yay. Set between Wonder-ful in season 4 and Love, Love, Love in season 5 (obviously I wrote this before I knew about the proposal) when Kurt was in Lima and they definitely weren't hooking up this time

Warnings: phone sex and masturbation. Title from "Oh Glory (Demo)" by Panic! At The Disco because they're the best in the world

"I can't stop thinking about you in those pants today."

Kurt barely has time to say hello when he answers the call before Blaine's voice is in his ear, low and languid and he gives an involuntary shiver, sits back in his desk chair and taps his pen against the paper of his textbook.

"Hello, Blaine."

"God, they looked so good. Like I said, dirty-cute."

Kurt blushes. "Thank you," he says, tries to keep his voice even despite the sudden electric feeling in the pit of his stomach and the annoying fact that his pants seem to be getting tighter.

"You're welcome," Blaine says, almost a growl. "But you know where they'd look even better?"

Kurt swallows. "Where?"

"On my bedroom floor."

"Oh my god, Blaine," Kurt breathes, throws his pen down onto the spine in between the pages of his book and shuts it. Homework be damned. "You can't—just say that."

"But it's true," Blaine groans, and Kurt knows he's touching himself. He glances at the clock—10.04pm—and sits back in the chair, ignoring the creak as the back takes his weight.

"Maybe, but—" Kurt sighs and grips the edge of the desk. "My dad is home, Blaine. I can't just—"

"Come on," Blaine says, and it's a little whiny. "That's never stopped you before."

Kurt sighs. He's right; back when they were together, when Blaine had transferred to McKinley and they spent every free minute they had making out in empty bathroom stalls—something Kurt had promised himself he'd never do, no matter how desperate he was—they'd spend almost every night on the phone together, recounting their day and waiting for each other to make a reference to their most recent make-out session. After that they were gone, whispering out "you looked so hot today" and "all through geology I imagined your fingers wrapped around something other than your pencil" in the early hours of the morning until they were spent and sticky and panting and way too awake to go to sleep. That was around the same time Kurt had started doing his own laundry, too, which his father was happily oblivious to. "It's about time you started taking care of your own responsibilities," he'd said. Carole had just shot Kurt a knowing look as he'd pressed rinse cycle on the machine for the third time.

"You're ridiculous," Kurt complains as he spins his chair around and dives for his bed, narrowly dodging his TV remote as he did. He tosses it into a corner, maybe with a little too much force as it hits the wall that joins his room to Finn's. He silently apologizes to his brother and prays that he doesn't come in any time soon to investigate.

"Are you touching yourself?" he asks, holds the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he struggles to get his button undone. His zipper comes down next and then he's shimmying the skintight denim off of his legs and kicking them off the end of his bed.

"Of course," Blaine grunts. "Aren't you?"

"Sort of," Kurt says, strained, hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and pushes his pelvis up, draws his knees to his chest and tugs the fabric off his ankles.

"I wish I was there," he breathes, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock. "Would do—would do so much to you."

"Fuck," Blaine hisses. "Like what?"

Kurt's head is beginning to cloud. "Suck you until you can't speak," he replies, tips his head back and lets out a shaky sigh. The thought to put the phone on loudspeaker crosses his mind, but leaves as quickly as it came.

"Mmh," Blaine moans, and it's muffled, like he's biting something. Kurt can just see him on his knees with his shoulders on the bed, headphones in, one hand on his cock and the other clenched in the pillow next to his head as he bites down on the fabric to stop himself from waking his parents. The picture makes his toes curl and his hips buck up into the circle of his fist as he squeezes the base and strokes upwards, then down, then up again. His index finger and thumb tease the head for a little while and he keens, bites his lip and fucks upwards.

"The noises you make," Blaine moans. "So fucking hot. Wanna—wanna fuck you until you come over and over again. Say my name, Kurt, say it—"

"Fuck, Blaine," Kurt whines, squeezes his eyes shut. "Blaine."

He plants his feet on the mattress, jaw going slacker and slacker with each thrust up. "Ah, fuck."

"Keep going," Blaine gasps. "Tell me—tell me what you're gonna do."

"Eat you—eat you out," Kurt pants, feels the tips of his ears go red as he swallows and pushes the embarrassment down. They'd never gotten around to rimming, but their conversations about it had them both panting and gripping each other a little tighter and dropping their voices a little lower, and Kurt knows it's inevitable that they'll get around to it one day.

"Yes, yes," Blaine breathes, and the speaker crackles. Kurt arches his back and whispers a string of obscenities and Blaine's name as his fist tightens and he jerks himself himself hard and fast and pretends Blaine's there and they're trying to be as quiet as they can because Finn is just next door and he's a light sleeper so they can't make too much noise.

"So close," Blaine moans, drags out the last word in a way that has Kurt's hips bucking and cock twitching in his hand. "God."

Kurt feels his stomach muscles go rigid and the familiar spark makes it's way through his stomach before he's coming with a cry in hot spurts over his fist and t-shirt, head thrashing and toes curling and hand briefly quickening before stuttering to a stop as he squeezes at the head, white ribbons dribbling over his fingers and onto his hipbone. He vaguely hears Blaine pant out his name a few times before it chokes off and he whines, a telltale sign of his orgasm. He lets out little uh's as he comes, a cute habit Kurt had noticed during their first time.

"We're not together," Kurt breathes, reaches over to grab a tissue from the box on his nightstand and finding that it's empty. Blaine laughs breathlessly and Kurt wishes he could see him in his lazy post-orgasm haze because he loves it, loves the way he lies so still with that stupid sated smile on his face with his curls fanned out over the pillow and chest heaving as he catches his breath.

"I know," he says, but Kurt hears the smile on his face. He sighs, closes his eyes and lets himself sink into the mattress, listens to his heartbeat slowing down in his ears.

"How about you come over tomorrow night?" Blaine asks suddenly, wavering. "My parents are going out to some wine tasting thing somewhere near the border so we'll be alone and we can—I don't know, talk."

"I'm sure we'll just be talking, Blaine," Kurt smiles, "but okay. Want me to pick something up for dinner on the way over?"

"Sure," Blaine says, and Kurt's heart swells at how happy he sounds, As much as he doesn't like to admit it, he misses Blaine like crazy and he really isn't ready to let go of him yet. Really isn't ready to let go of him ever.

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Blaine says, and he's still smiling. "Oh, and Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

Blaine takes deep breath before he speaks. "I love you."

"I love you, too."