AN: Beta'd by Alianne whom I love forever. Set in the Sons&lovers!verse. This takes place within the year covered in Chapter 15 of Inside These Lines. I think you can read this as a stand-alone just for the porn, but if you want to know what's going on in the background, you might want to read the rest of the verse. Title comes from Florence + the Machine's song, Heartlines
He hears the door slam first, which startles him into dropping his pencil. It's early; too early for Kurt to be home from work. When he hears the bathroom door slam as well, Blaine stands, swinging out of the kitchenette where he's spread his books and papers.
"Kurt?" His knock is tentative, the silence from inside the bathroom pressing. He waits.
"I'll be out in a minute, Blaine." Kurt's voice is too even, tempered and measured and it curls in the pit of Blaine's stomach because something is definitely wrong. Thank god he chose to study at home today rather than the library. Forehead against the cheap door that separates them, Blaine waits, wondering into the silence that stretches beyond him in the other room.
"I'm coming out now." It's spoken quietly; a reassurance in some ways. It's been a hard year- knowing that Kurt knows he's there, still at the door, says quite a lot to Blaine. That they are on the right road, for one.
Kurt brushes past him, fingers trailing lightly over the bones of his wrist. Helpless and curious, Blaine trails his fiancé (ex-fiance? Future again fiancé?) into the kitchenette. Kurt's shoulders are set, a long tense line as he braces his forearms against the chipped laminate of their counter. His body reads clearly; it's don't touch me. It's I'm in defense mode. It's a line Blaine has been avoiding crossing this year, when maybe last or the one before he'd cross it without hesitating because he could.
"Sal fired me." It takes a minute for the words to sink in.
"Wait, what?" Blaine tries not to tense when Kurt does, his hand open and warm on Kurt's back.
"She didn't want to, but it's slow and she doesn't need the extra help. My hours were hard for her to work around anyway, with the play and…" His head tips down with the sigh, exposing the back of his neck. It's almost time for him to get his hair cut. Blaine hopes he forgets for a few more days, just so he can curl his fingers through it, right at the back where they sweep left naturally, soft and lush.
"Fuck, I really needed that job. I'm so close to being done but I won't be able to afford the credits I need for summer semester,"
"Kurt," Blaine's fingers dig into his shoulder. He doesn't have to say it, because it's been said. It's been offered. He's tried giving Kurt the money, tried to pay tuition bills on the sly. Blaine has done just about everything he can think of to help Kurt. He remembers thinking Kurt was stubborn when they were in high school, his stupidly in love 16-year-old self finding it endearing. Christ. Kurt's stubborn refusal to take help from him, his father, student loans- after a while, it just got old. Especially when Blaine had to sit back and watch Kurt work himself into exhaustion between classes and plays and work. There weren't words for how incredibly frustrating it was to sit by and watch, the burden of extra money burning in his chest.
"Blaine." He winces at the acid in the tone. It's laden with annoyance and resolution and Blaine knows that despite everything, Kurt is still stubbornly refusing to let him help. To let him take care. Which is dumb honestly, because up until recently they'd been engaged. He assumed that meant, logically, that at some point, they'd be married. With joint assets. Not for the first time, Blaine seriously regrets taking his ring off. Even knowing that it was for the best for them, to wait until they were really ready to move on. At least with the damn thing on, he had some ground to stand on, validation for the argument that he was entitled to take care of Kurt. Take some of this burden from him and help.
It's unbelievably frustrating, to feel like he has no avenues to help. To feel like Kurt is always this solitary being, willing to do for Blaine, always. But too stubborn and aware to ask or take.
There is a memory; it flashes warmth that spreads at the base of his spine, through his arms and fingers. Smiling, he steps closer to Kurt, careful to place his hands on the counter around him, caging him in. He knows that he has to be careful, to choose the right words and tone; leaning over to whisper hot into Kurt's ear-"Let me take care of you."
~*~
"It's not just school Kurt." Blaine's voice over the phone is defeated, worn. Clenching handfuls of his duvet, Kurt examines his empty dorm room. Uselessly, he wishes he could be with Blaine, to offer more than just words and platitudes. "What else is it?" A glance at the clock tells him it was just shy of seven- Brian will be out for a few hours more. "I miss you." Something in the admission; the small tone, the broken and folded-in longing, breaks Kurt. Cracks something inside, spilling warm and sharp through his lungs and skin. He misses Blaine too, but at least he has New York. At least he has everything that comes with college life. "I just- I really miss you Kurt." "Do me a favor?" Kurt swallows the tremor in his voice. Unsteady, he stands, locking the door to his shared dorm, feeling his face heat. He cannot believe what he is about to do. "Yeah?" Blaine's voice, young and listless, is enough to push Kurt past any embarrassment or discomfort. "Put your hand over your heart." Kurt breathes, slowly in and exhaling out, waiting. "Just like the song?" He can hear the tears in Blaine's voice. "Just like the song."
~*~
"Blaine, we've talked about this," Annoyed, Kurt tries to stand. Finding himself blocked in by Blaine's body, he slumps forward, head on his folded arms.
"That's not what I'm talking about." With rough hands, Blaine maneuvers Kurt up by the shoulder, pushing him against the hall wall.
"Hey-"
"I said, let me take care of you." There must be something, either in his tone, or his eyes. Whatever it is, it convinces Kurt to stop. Blaine watches, feeling predatory and gentle and terrible; the way Kurt's teeth dig into the soft flesh of his bottom lip, the way his eyes narrow; calculating. Tension hums in the too quiet air between them; Blaine's hands are against Kurt's shoulders which are drawn back and taut.
Patient, he waits, eyes on Kurt's, until something small shivers through him, a slight lessening of tension in his muscles and bones, head tilting back until his eyes are hooded and wondering, steady on Blaine's. Wanting, needing, Kurt to remember, to understand, Blaine takes Kurt's hand in his, threading their fingers before pressing them to Kurt's chest. He doesn't speak, waiting.
"What are you going to do?" Kurt's voice is threading higher, giving him away.
"Don't worry about it." Blaine's hand moves sure and steady, circling Kurt's throat then carding roughly through is hair and back across his cheek, fingers dragging roughly against Kurt's smooth lips. "Don't ask. Don't talk. You're going to let me take care of you. Do you understand?" The pads of his fingers feel rough against Kurt's mouth, pressing and warm.
Kurt nods, his heart pounding against their joined hands.
"Do you remember?" It's a question barely whispered, gentle against Kurt's ear.
"Which time?" It's asked with a quirk of those perfect lips. Kurt's eye are green in the afternoon light that Blaine rarely sees.
"Both. Either." Blaine licks, fleeting, mouthing at Kurt's throat. He doesn't know which he wants Kurt to remember more; their first time, hesitant and shy, after West Side Story, or the other, the one he's remembering right now.
~*~
"Blaine," Kurt speaks quiet and sure into the phone, working hard to disguise his uncertainty, "Will you let me take care of you?" "Always." Blaine's quick answer makes Kurt smile. "I meant right now." He waits, hearing Blaine's breath, questioning and surprised into the phone, "Will you let me take care of you, right now?" "Kurt- I…are you saying what I think you're saying?" Kurt lays back, squeezing his eyes shut. "Yes." Blaine's breath, sudden and sharp, resonates through him. Kurt feels it, in his fingers and elbows, the hollows behind his knees for god's sake, tingling and turned on. "Ok. Will you- I mean, are you going to-" "No. Blaine, just- just let me take care of you, ok? I want you to listen to my voice and do exactly what I say."
~*~
For a moment, Blaine waits, breathing in the scent of Kurt, nose buried in his neck. Careful, he trails a hand down, over the crisp cotton of Kurt's button down shirt, tracing a small circle into the palm of Kurt's hand. Picking it up, he bites, soft, at the fleshy mound at the base of Kurt's thumb, ignoring his in-drawn breath.
"Take off your clothes."
Kurt's eyes widen a little at the command, but he obeys. The slight tremor in his fingers betrays something; arousal, Blaine hopes. He watches, hungry and somehow proud, as Kurt makes quick work of his many layers. Eyes trail, invisible fingerprints of ownership, as Kurt reveals more and more skin. By the time he's naked, they are both trembling, Kurt sagging a bit against the wall.
Blaine takes his hand again, lifting it to kiss his way slowly down to Kurt's thumping heart; hints of teeth and tongue, as he follows the delicate mapwork of veins from wrist to shoulder and down. He slots a knee between Kurt's legs, taking some of his weight and pressing against his already straining erection. With both hands, he cards his fingers through Kurt's hair, forcing him to look up and into Blaine's eyes.
"It's ok, sometimes, to let me help. To ask me for help." He's pulling just a bit, taking in Kurt's reactions; a slow blink of assent, the way his breath is coming faster, less even. "Stay."
He pushes against Kurt's shoulders before dropping to his knees. Skipping any preamble, he takes Kurt into his mouth. What Blaine lacks in ability to deep throat ( a skill he is determined to master, even if it takes another five years), he's always made up for with sheer enthusiasm.
~*~
"Take your fingers, I want you to touch that spot, just inside your wrist." Kurt's whisper is heavy; he works to steady his voice. "Imagine it's my lips, kissing you, up to your elbow the way you like." He can hear the way Blaine's breath catches. Aching, Kurt bites his lip- it's harder than he thought, staying focused. Talking Blaine through taking off his clothes had been enough to bring him right to the edge; longing and distance and the thrill shivering up his spine at what they were doing. What he was doing. Imagining Blaine on the other end, spread naked on his bed, Kurt continues, "I want you to trace all the way up your arm, over the roundest part of your shoulder; the part I have to bite onto every time I come because you feel so good, Blaine, so good." Blaine's whimper is confirmation that he's doing this right, which encourages and warms him., and he has to smile through the tears and how turned on he is, "Kurt-" Blaine is already wrecked, he can tell. Kurt would pay any amount right now to be with him, skin on his and fingers in his hair. He cuts Blaine's choked entreaty off. "Now I want you to touch, Blaine."
~*~
"You need to let go." Blaine's voice is graveled, his lips tingling from repeat friction as he pulls off of Kurt, fingers warm in the crease of his thigh. "You don't have to be in control all the time."
Eyes wide, he takes Kurt back into his mouth, feeling him pulse, high up behind his balls. Kurt's eyes are shut, his fingers less than gentle in Blaine's hair as he whimpers then shakes hard, coming sudden and hot over Blaine's tongue and down his throat. Blaine pulls off, nuzzling against the unbelievably smooth contours of Kurt's hip.
"Good boy." His whisper is benediction into the give of Kurt's body, his hands worshiping as they help ease Kurt down to the floor. For long moments he just holds him close, feeling the aftershocks wind their way through damp skin and loose muscle. The apartment is quiet, only the ticking of the heat as it kicks on can be heard.
Soon, Kurt is still and Blaine is shifting, pulling him up and steering him toward the bedroom.
"Face down, on the bed." His whisper is hot, laden with promise and threat. Kurt might be pliable now, but he's never anything less than a challenge to take care of. Stubborn and unwilling to let go, unable to ask sometimes, especially the times when he most needs. Which is fine, because he has Blaine. Blaine who knows him well enough to know that sometimes, Kurt doesn't know what's best for him as well as he does.
"Blaine-" Kurt is tired, Blaine can tell even in a cut off question. His voice is slurred, his limbs for once ungainly and coltish as he stumbles toward and onto their bed. "What are you…what's-?"
Blaine waits until Kurt is on the bed before leaning over. His hand strokes, from hair to the base of Kurt's spine in one wide, possessive stroke.
"I say this with love, Kurt, ok?" His teeth are less than gentle as he bites down on the soft lobe of an ear, "Shut up." Moving fast and ignoring the way his words jolt through Kurt's body; the way his eyes open and narrow. Blaine removes his clothes before coming to lay on Kurt, shuddering at the contact of their skin.
~*~
"And the way you taste," Kurt is almost moaning into the phone, "Right at the slit; the way you feel in my mouth…I want you to trace it for me, where it's wet and hot. Are you, Blaine?" "Yes, yes, ohmygod Kurt." Kurt has to bite down on the pad of his thumb to keep from coming at the sound of Blaine's voice alone. "And if I were there, Blaine, if I was in that bed right now, your cock in my mouth, what would you be saying?" He challenges, feeling a little wanton and painfully lonely. Because he isn't with Blaine and it's a missing that hurts, every where. "You'd be begging me, wouldn't you?" "Yes, Kurt, yesyes, I would be begging you to fuck me." "To fuck you." They finish the sentence at the same time. Kurt can hear the slide of Blaine's lubricated hand, frantic and sloppy. The tears in his eyes are unmitigated arousal and bone deep emptiness. "Finger yourself Blaine." He covers the tears with a command, listening to Blaine's breathing as it stutters, telling him the moment Blaine has complied. "Oh, fuck Kurt, fuck, yes." "God," Kurt laughs, "I love your filthy mouth when I'm inside you." He doesn't stop to think that he isn't actually inside Blaine. Because right now, in the heady dark of his room, everything is Blaine. The memory of his body warm on his fingers, the sound of his voice filling Kurt's senses. How hot and tight Blaine always is, clamping down around his fingers and cock as they rock together, sharing heartbeats and breaths and need.
~*~
Blaine nips and laves his way along Kurt's body, appreciating the long lines, the hollow at the base of his spine; the way the light smooths like butter over the rounded slopes of his ass. His hands press steady and sure, working into muscle and sinew, easing tension and stress. He watches, gauging Kurt's breath and body as he visibly begins to relax again.
He takes care with the spaces between their bodies, hovering close but not too close. At first, when his erection brushes against Kurt's skin, Blaine shudders then moves away. Kurt is prone, utterly relaxed and unmoving. But as he begins to descend, fingers and tongue digging into the spaces between vertebra in the small of Kurt's back, he can feel it. Trembling and pressing. The way Kurt arches a little into his touch; the hitch of his breath as Blaine's erection presses, heavy and leaking just a little, against Kurt's thigh.
Blaine knows, when he presses his chin and tongue into the sweet spot at the base of Kurt's spine, that he has his boyfriend right where he wants him. Softened and loose, unsuspecting and unready. By the time he's licked down, hauling Kurt's hips up and spreading his cheeks, Kurt is moaning, broken and dazed. Truthfully, they almost never do this; Kurt is usually too fastidious and Blaine too aware of Kurt's boundaries.
But this, today, isn't about boundaries. It's about making Kurt let go. About Kurt putting himself into Blaine's hands completely, trusting that Blaine will take the utmost care with that gift.
So when he's licking, tongue soft, then harder, around and into Kurt, it's with a keen ear. Backing off when he can tell that Kurt's getting closer; diving in when Kurt quiets and whimpers, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.
"Blaine, Blaine, please." Kurt's voice is the kind of breathy that means he's right on that fine edge. Backing away, Blaine lets Kurt's hips fall to the bed. Stretching over him, Blaine groans as his cock settles into the slippery crack of his ass. Reaching, he fumbles for lube and a condom, kissing fleeting and tender along Kurt's neck. He works his fingers into Kurt's already stretched hole before slipping in, fast and rough and groaning.
~*~
"Kurt, please, please come with me." Groaning, Kurt tries to ignore the way his dick throbs, hard and urgent at the words. Face down against his bed, he can hear Blaine's words, tiny and distant. He'd dropped the phone, Kurt knew, when he'd started fingering himself. "I know you said- ohmygod…I know you said it's about me. But I need you too." Blaine's voice comes on the phone suddenly, close and warm, "I need to hear you come with me." He's panting, and Kurt is too, free hand fisting into the pillow on his bed. "Oh god Blaine, I haven't even touched myself and I'm so close, so close-" Grinding down just barely, Kurt focuses on Blaine's stuttered cry, feeling himself flooding and pulsing into his underwear as Blaine comes, crying out low and shameless over the tenuous connection between their phones and hearts.
~*~
"Blaine, please, please-"
Blaine thinks that maybe he ought to be ashamed, but the dark curl he feels when Kurt begs is anything but shame. It's lust, and possession and pride. He slides into Kurt, soft and slow strokes tempered with rougher, more edgy thrusts. He leans over Kurt, wrapping himself around Kurt's shaking body.
"Do you trust me?"
Kurt jerks and whimpers; Blaine can see him nodding, eyes closed and breath heaving.
"Then just let go, and trust me to get you there. I'll get you there, I promise." He moves carefully, shifting so that they are curled on their sides. He's barely moving, breathing Kurt in, close and sure, loving and loving and needing every inch of body his can touch, every moment spun out and prolonged. They stay like that for minutes, breathing together and rocking, just a little.
"Kurt, I need you to let me." Blaine whispers against the knob of Kurt's spine. It's damp with sweat, skin translucent and it makes something tender and loving contract, hard, in Blaine's chest. How thin-skinned but resilient this man is. How much he wants to be the man to take care of and be taken care of by Kurt.
"I am, I am," Kurt is moaning, rocking back harder.
"I mean everything, Kurt." Biting down, Blaine snaps his hips, thrusting in harder, rolling Kurt until he's face down and flattened against the bed. They're so close, everything is so tight, Blaine can feel Kurt's heart beating between his legs, where they are together. "I want you to let me take care of you. I want you to take care of me. "
"I will," Kurt's fingers scrabble, twisting between Blaine's and there are tears clumping the lashes of his beautiful eyes, "I will, I promise. Please just, please, Blaine."
Undone, desperate to come himself, Blaine releases Kurt's hand, reaching down to grab his erection, stroking sure and strong until he feels Kurt clenching. Together, they come hard, slamming into orgasm denied so long.
~*~
They're quiet for a long time, breathing into their phones, feeling close and still, so far from one another. " Thank you." Blaine's voice is quiet and tired, open and vulnerable. It makes Kurt's fingers curl with the force of emptiness and wanting to touch, to comfort and smooth and soothe. "I love you, Blaine. I know it's hard. But it'll be worth it in the end, when we're together in New York. Until then, we just have to take care of each other." Kurt smiles at Blaine's huffed laughter. "I didn't mean like that, perv." It's teasing, their sleepy laughter sounding good, sounding right, mixed together. Like everything else, even laughter is better when paired with Blaine's.
~*~
"Did you mean it?" Blaine's lips stick to Kurt's skin where they've been pressed. They've been stuck together, breathing and shaking, for long minutes.
"Which part?" Kurt sounds like he's joking, and when Blaine sits up to look, he's lips are quirked; too tired to smile but his face seems to want to.
"Kurt." Hand on Kurt's naked hip, Blaine tries to keep the censure and warning from his tone. It must not work, because Kurt is rolling toward him, shuffling Blaine back on the bed. They ignore various wet spots and the condom still hanging from Blaine's softening cock. Kurt's eyes are somber, dark grey in the darkening room. His hand on Blaine's cheek is cooler than expected and as soft as he's come to depend on.
"Blaine. I meant it." It's whispered but the words hit Blaine hard, a sort of visceral impact that resonates through his tired and spent body. He doesn't know how, or why, but something about those words; about the admission, makes so many things better. So much that's been lingering between them for months. So much that he's needed to heart, to know. His promise is fervent and he means it, really means it when he speaks.
"I did too."