Pairing: sexual Kurt/Cody, emotional Kurt/Blaine
Warnings/Kinks: barebacking outside of a monogamous relationship, consensual but drunk sex on one participant's part, riding, exhibitionism, a tiny nod towards voyeurism
A/N: Written for a prompt on the GKM. Only four months after the episode actually aired. Kurt is processing some of the Blaine situation and thinking about him while having sex with someone else. Also, bonus to anyone who read You're Still An Innocent: consider up until the falling asleep to be my official headcanon on Ella's conception. And I win the award for least imaginative title ever.
Currently, Santana is perched between Kurt and Cody, a Santa hat perched at a rakish - read: drunken - angle on her head, swinging her legs back and forth and dropping Kurt not-at-all subtle winks when Rachel blasts Santa Baby from their speakers, drifting around the room like she's dancing through fog. There's a sprig of mistletoe tucked behind her ear, and as she shimmies her way over to Santana she's grinning and puckering up teasingly, and they smack their lips together with a loud and demonstrative mwah! It's surprising that none of their neighbours have come over to complain yet, but somewhere around a week after they moved in everyone in the building probably just decided not to bother the musical theatre majors who sing constantly.
"You know what we should do?" Santana asks, turning her glittering eyes towards Kurt, swinging her head around slowly, as if it's some great effort. "We should, like, Instagram this shit. Show our exes that we don't care about them, that we're having fun and getting over them and we hung fucking mistletoe like we expect to get laid, and fuck them!" Suddenly her eyes aren't glittering with drink anymore, and she's crying and burying her face in Kurt's shoulder. "Oh God, I miss her so much. I want her back, but I was just being responsible, and then she shacked up with Trouty Mouth right after, like it was nothing!" Then she does another swing, up and down like a yo-yo, and reels away from Kurt, making a face and spitting out, "Dear God, you stink of cologne, did you bathe in the stuff? Jeez, talk about smelling like desperation."
"It's called trying to get laid, Santana, you can't pretend you don't do it too!" Rachel says, and presses her nose into Kurt's neck, inhaling deeply. "It doesn't even smell that bad! Kinda like Christmas!" Nodding at her and grinning, Kurt watches Santana swinging her legs back and forth until she gets enough momentum to swing herself off the table and upright, linking her arm through Rachel's and dragging her away.
"We're going to take kissy-face selfies and make our exes jealous as fuck!" she shouts through from the main room, and Kurt just raises his mostly-empty glass in a slightly mocking toast. "Kurt, you want some of that action, just come join us. But rinse off that fucking cologne first!"
Only when the two women round the corner, heels tapping on the wood, and their giggling and the sound of phone cameras starts filtering through from behind the stacked shelves, does Cody slide along the table to be closer to Kurt, pressing his thigh into Kurt's and kissing his neck, tongue flicking gently at his earlobe as he murmurs, "For the record, I think you smell amazing."
Kurt smiles sleepily, and leans into Cody's touch, his hand slowly sliding up his thigh, his lips on Kurt's neck, and tries not to make a sound. He doesn't need the girls walking through to interrupt them yet again, not when this is him finally casting off the shackles of being heartbroken and getting back out there. Who cares if everyone has been telling him that after the initial misery and anger he'd hit the rebound stage? Who cares that everyone told him to be completely ruthless with resisting those urges? Who cares if one night stands are risky and come with a possible side order of getting too attached? He's young, he's single, he's a little tipsy and feeling sexy, and he wants this. He wants easy, no-strings-attached, fun sex for a night. He wants to stop the endless ticking of his mind through the cycles of processing the break-up and let tonight be a good memory to return to.
"So you said newly-single," Cody says quietly, and Kurt nods slowly. "Any story there? Have you been leaving a trail of broken hearts across New York? A sexy guy like you, I wouldn't be surprised."
"Long-distance didn't work out with my high school boyfriend," Kurt says softly, and there's no point in going any further. No point saying that Blaine broke his heart, that his trust in his first love collapsed with four words, that he's been drifting along not sure what to do and that this is a rebound. "But I don't want to talk about that."
"Oh really?" There's a gleam in Cody's eyes as he leans closer, his fingers squeezing at Kurt's thigh, close enough for his knuckles to brush against Kurt's cock, half-hard in his pants. "What do you want to talk about?"
Curving his fingers against Cody's jaw, Kurt pulls him back in for another kiss, dragging his fingers down Cody's bare torso as he slides down from the table, hands on Kurt's waist, tilting him back. It's reminiscent of the position the girls found them in, but this is obviously going somewhere in the direction of the bedroom, and, amazingly, it doesn't scare Kurt. He feels ready for this, to just go to bed with someone with no emotional attachment or previous relationship needed, just one night of fun. Easy, simple and enjoyable.
"So do you think the girls have learned their lesson about coming in here?" Cody asks, and Kurt leans around him to see Santana and Rachel taking pictures together, laughing and helping themselves to more eggnog. He nods, and Cody smirks at him, popping open a button on his shirt and tugging it aside to kiss his shoulder. "Good. There are things I want to do to you that I don't want them to see."
Kurt squeaks out, "Oh my God," as he watches Cody slide to his knees, reaching for the button on Kurt's pants and staring at his crotch with nothing short of hunger in his eyes, making Kurt so hard so fast he feels dizzy - though that could be the many glasses of eggnog he's had. Then he has to clamp a hand across his mouth to quiet his groan when Cody's hand wraps around his cock, drawing him out of his briefs, and sinks his mouth down.
Leaning back against the table, ignoring the fact that the sharp edge is digging into his ass and providing a dull pain that shoots right up his spine, Kurt bites down on his finger to stop himself from moaning out loud and alerting Rachel and Santana to what is going on a display case away from them. He's never really considered himself an exhibitionist, but he has to admit that it's hot - the knowing that any second one of them could come to check and see them, see another man on his knees for Kurt, see the fact that people want him, it just turns him on more. Not to mention the fact that Cody obviously knows what he's doing - all of Santana's thinly-veiled insinuations that he was obviously hired to appeal to a slightly older demographic were right.
"Oh, oh, caption it 'Break-up Stage 5: The Rebound'!" Rachel's loud shout and drunken giggles break through Kurt's revery, and he stares down at Cody with wide eyes, pushing him away in a panic.
"You can't, not right here!" he insists in a low voice, even though Rachel's raucous laughter and the loud tapping of Santana's heels against the floor would drown him out any day. "I mean, there aren't any walls, they could walk in on us any second, and that's just crossing a boundary that I don't want them to cross."
"Are you telling me that this isn't hot?" Cody asks softly, his hands on Kurt's thighs as he slithers sinuously to his feet, brushing kisses against Kurt's belly as he deftly unbuttons his shirt, making Kurt's back arch and a soft whine fall from his lips. "Don't you want them to see you? See us? See me on my knees for you, see how unbelievably sexy you are, see how much I want you."
His tongue draws trails up Kurt's neck, his fingers wrapped around Kurt's bare thigh, and Kurt growls out, "Screw it," before he yanks Cody into a forceful kiss, moaning as he does something with his tongue that's probably illegal in several states. When Cody pulls away with a loud, lewd, wet sound and slants kisses, heavy with nips and licks, down Kurt's jaw instead, Kurt breathes harshly in and says in a rush, "God, I might be too drunk to finish, but just do it, please."
"So polite," Cody observes with a smirk and a gentle bite to Kurt's shoulder, peeling his shirt off him as Kurt lets his legs fall open, knuckles white as he clutches at the edge of the table with one hand, the other braced back against the rough brick wall. "I'm gonna make you fall apart, baby." And with that cocky but undoubtedly true statement, he twists his tongue in some unbelievably sinful way around the head of Kurt's cock, and Kurt just retains enough presence of mind to clench his teeth and muffle the shriek of pleasure that wants to spill ecstatically from his lips.
It's been a while since he had face-to-face sex with anyone. The last time was the night he and Blaine broke up, when he'd stumbled into the apartment with tears pouring down his cheeks and his throat raw from crying rasping sobs, and Blaine had followed behind him trying desperately to explain himself, and Kurt had thrown him down onto the bed and they'd fucked like it could fix all their problems, sleeping with a long cold strip of bed between their still bodies, frightened to touch, until Blaine had left the next morning without even looking Kurt in the eye. That length of time, along with his intoxicated state, is Kurt's excuse for the fact that it takes minutes for his body to seize up and his head to toss back, lips parting in a wordless moan as he comes down Cody's throat.
"Oh my God, I am so sorry, I should've said something," he says apologetically as Cody moves away, and he scrambles to cover himself in case Santana or Rachel comes through to investigate the noise. It's surprising, really, that they stay put, considering he knocked a vase off the table when he came and there are now shards of floral-patterned china all over the floor. "Honestly, I wouldn't normally do that." Only with Blaine, because Blaine could always tell, he always wanted it, they fitted in so many ways. Like puzzle pieces.
Getting to his feet, Cody smirks and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, pressing Kurt further back into the table as he kisses his neck, right over his frantically fluttering pulse. "Your heart's beating so fast," he murmurs in Kurt's ear, one hand sliding down his back, fingers curling into the belt loop on his pants, hauling him closer.
His hips tilt forward, pushing his erection insistently into Kurt's hip, and Kurt pushes him gently back to ask, "Do you want to go to the bedroom?" Cody smirks darkly, and Kurt sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and lets his fingers trail down Cody's abdomen before the taller man takes his hand and drags him into his bedroom, jerking the curtain shut.
It seems as if every inch of the room is suddenly saturated with memories of Blaine, even when Kurt presses his mouth harder and harder against Cody's, trying to lose everything he is in the kiss, hands skating all over his sweat-slick bare back, a strong grip pulling at his hips and his thighs. Even though Blaine only spent a night in this room, Kurt can remember every second of it clear as day, and the memories are so painful he can feel the tears rushing into his throat. He tries desperately to keep the sadness away - not tonight, he won't cry tonight, they're friends again and he's moving on (except he's not) - and snaps the suspenders from Cody's shoulders, trying to grapple him closer.
"You're so eager," Cody breathes, grabbing at Kurt's ass and slanting kisses down his neck, finding that magical spot just beneath Kurt's ear that never fails to make Kurt arch and whine, and he can feel himself starting to swell again. His mouth brushes against Kurt's ear as he whispers, "Do you like dirty talk, baby? Want me to talk about your sweet little ass." He squeezes, and Kurt moans helplessly, dizzy with lust. "Oh, sensitive. Moan like a whore for me, huh?"
"Don't...tease," Kurt manages to gasp out between hungry, sloppy kisses, and he hears Cody's dark chuckle as he hefts Kurt up, carrying him to the bed as Kurt winds his legs around Cody's waist, fingers tangling into his hair and tugging.
Falling onto the bed, fingers tangling into the bars of the headboard, trying to lose himself in the feeling of Cody's fingers playing with his nipples, Kurt opens his eyes with a heavy sigh when the weight of Cody's body lifts and he asks, "Who's this guy, babe?"
Glancing over at his nightstand, Kurt sees the picture of Blaine, the last he's left on display, because taking them all down feels like letting go, and he's not ready to do that. Not yet. It was taken by the shaking hands of a tearful Mercedes at their graduation, Blaine wearing Kurt's graduation cap and blowing a kiss to the camera, eyes bright with happiness.
"That's just my ex, don't worry about it," he says with false airiness, reaching over and slamming the frame down onto its front, closing his eyes and beating back the barrage of memories as he let Cody's lips find his again, hand sliding into the back pockets of his jeans, squeezing insistently. Kurt moans against his neck and starts tugging at their pants, palms sweaty and head swimming, and even though he's already come once he's hard and aching and wanting all over again.
"Don't hurt yourself," Cody says with a smirk, and slowly peels Kurt's jeans down his legs, throwing them somewhere across the room and letting his gaze rove over Kurt's body. He waits for the urge to cover himself, the same way he always felt with Blaine in those nervous early days, but it doesn't come - which could possibly be a side effect of the amount he's had to drink - and Kurt triumphantly pushes Cody onto his back and straddles him, rutting his ass back against his cock. For the first time all night, Cody seems to lose his composure, his eyes rolling back in his head, and Kurt is practically purring in satisfaction. But then Cody takes over again, rolling Kurt's body over, pliable in his drunken state, and smirks down at him, on his hands and knees over a mostly-naked Kurt. "Gonna fuck you," he growls out, and every part of Kurt thrills hot as Cody leans down and kisses him again, sucking over his top lip before he kneels up and starts to inch his pants down, smirking at Kurt all the while.
Cody is naked under his pants, and Kurt can't help but stare. No matter how many inappropriate comments Santana made a little too loudly during their taxi ride home from the mall, no matter how many terrible Christmas innuendoes she shouted across the apartment while Kurt discarded outfit after outfit as showing too much skin or not enough skin, he never really had any expectations for the night. Now he's staring at the dick of a guy he met maybe six hours ago and it's thrilling, exhilarating, celebrating his sexual freedom now he's single. Cody is longer than Blaine but not as thick - and Kurt chastises himself for that, he's not supposed to be thinking about his ex-boyfriend and newly-reconciled best friend like that, that's how people end up with their love lives imploding into a horrible emotional mess.
"Lube's in the top drawer," Kurt finally says, and takes the opportunity to slide his underwear down and kick them off the bottom of the bed while Cody is groping around between tissues boxes and all the miscellaneous crap Kurt shoves in those drawers when he's tidying.
They continue to kiss as Cody slowly fingers Kurt open, and Kurt gasps and writhes at his touch. But his mind is a whirl of the last time anyone else did this to him, the night before he got on his flight to New York and left his old life behind. Blaine was so sweet to him, so right for him, and despite everything that came crashing down between them in such a short space of time he still cares about Blaine. Still loves him. Blaine is still a stain on his heart, for better or for worse, and as he vows to call him in the morning Cody draws back and asks, "You okay, babe? You seem distracted."
With a wicked grin, Kurt asks, "How's this for distracted?" in the breathiest way he can and rolls Cody onto his back, slicking up his dick with a palmful of lube and sinking down. He lets out a strangled moan and doesn't even give a thought to protection as Cody's hands anchor at his waist, his smirk lazy as he gazes up at Kurt with nothing but lust in his eyes.
Once he's fully seated, rocking slightly to get used to the stretch and gasping, Kurt smirks down at Cody, fingers spread out on his chest to balance himself. "God, you're big," he whines, and Cody smirks with pride, rocking his hips up to make Kurt moan. Grabbing the headboard for leverage, Kurt starts to move, head tipping back and eyes fluttering closed and jaw slack around whimpers and moans for more, Cody snapping his hips up to meet Kurt every time.
He honestly doesn't mean to start screaming. It was a side of himself that he rarely got to indulge at home with Blaine, as they were usually trying to have hushed, hurried sex with parents on their way out of the door or exchanging fast, sticky handjobs in the back of a car before rushing home for curfew. But he can't help himself, getting louder and louder with every thrust until he knows he's screaming, his throat raw and his thighs burning with the effort, cock tapping against his belly as he bounces, feeling the heat in his cheeks spilling down his neck and chest, sobbing out mangled pleas and half-utterances of Cody's name. Someone was knocking on the wall loudly from the rest of the loft, but he could barely hear them past the ringing in his ears, the slap of skin on skin and Cody's growls, barely audible over his own screeching.
When Cody wraps his hand around Kurt's cock, it only takes one stroke before Kurt screams something wordless, chest heaving with dry sobs as his body jerks over and over, spilling over Cody's stomach. His vision goes white, then black, and when he blinks his eyes open again, dazed and disorientated, he's on his back, Cody fucking him so hard the headboard is crashing against the wall, shaking down dust from the ceiling. Lazily making a mental note to tell Rachel to dust the ceilings properly when he asks her to, Kurt's pulled out of his own head by the sharp pressure of Cody's teeth on his ear. Pushing his thighs roughly apart, Cody growls, "Look at you. Such a slut for my cock."
Head rolling back against the pillows, Kurt lets out a weak moan as Cody grabs at his hips, bending him almost in half, groaning, "Love your whore ass, take it so well, so hungry for it, such a slut." Finally he stills and comes, biting down on Kurt's shoulder and dragging another exhausted moan from his lips.
As Cody rolls off him, Kurt is already half-asleep. Apparently too much sex plus energetic sex is lethal for his energy levels. "Stay," he says sleepily as Cody starts to clean up. "If you want to." Cody just smiles, and Kurt doesn't know whether he will as his eyes slip closed and he falls asleep.
He wakes up to the winter sun searing through the window and a pounding headache, groaning and smacking his lips around the stale taste in his mouth as he rises fully to consciousness. There's an arm draped across him, and as he turns over he can't help but thrill that Cody actually stayed. He never really expected him to, he thought he'd wake up in the morning with the man gone. Not that there'd be anything wrong with that.
"Morning sexy," Cody murmurs, kissing Kurt and slanting over his cheek and down his neck, mouthing beneath his ear. "You must be horribly hungover." Kurt makes a quiet affirmative noise, and Cody smirks as he sucks on Kurt's neck, hand sliding down to Kurt's ass, fingertips brushing against where he's still wet and open. "I know a cure."
It takes maybe ten minutes of prep before Kurt's braced on his hands and knees, head dropped between his arms as he pants and moans, Cody thrusting into him and kissing his shoulders and the back of his neck. He's so caught up in it that he doesn't hear the squeaking of beds across the apartment, the tapping of heels on the floor and voices echoing in the quiet. Not until Rachel pulls his curtain aside, hand pressed against her head, saying, "Kurt do you have any aspirin because my head is killing- oh my God!"
Kurt shrieks and snatches at the blankets, trying to cover himself. But it's too late, because an equally hungover Santana storms over to the gap grumbling, "Jesus, Rach, my head is already splitting I don't need your screaming on top of last night's performance," and her face splits into a smirk when she sees Kurt trying desperately to cover himself. "Well well well, isn't this interesting," she observes. Catching Kurt's eyes, she cheerfully says, "Morning, screamer," and he groans, sinking into the bed, humiliated and denied his orgasm.
"Morning ladies," Cody says cheerfully, smoothing a hand over Kurt's ass beneath the blankets and forcing him to bite back a gasp. Rachel has a hand over her mouth in shock and Santana is just shaking her head, something like pride bright in her eyes. "If you don't mind, could you just let us finish? Then I'll be on my way."
Both women leave, Santana dropping Kurt a wink heavy with meaning before she pulls the curtain across. Cody's hand wraps around Kurt's cock, stroking him back to full hardness, and within fifteen minutes he comes again, messing up his sheets and listening to Rachel babbling, "Oh my God did you see that?" in their kitchen until Cody finishes.
Cody gets dressed again and Kurt slides into his pyjamas, walking Cody to the door and ignoring Rachel's stares. Turning around before he slides the door open, Cody presses a folded piece of paper into Kurt's hand. "Call me if you ever need another Christmas delivery," he says, and Kurt just manages not to turn around and glare at Santana's snort, taking the number with a charming smile. Cody leans down and kisses him, and Kurt lets his hand stray into his hair one last time before the door slides open and Cody leaves with a wave to Rachel and Santana.
"My lord, Hummel," Santana says as Kurt turns around and leans back against the door, unable to keep the smug little smile off his lips. "No need to look so crazy proud of yourself. You look like the cat that got the cream."
"Well," Kurt says, grabbing for his charging phone and flicking through his contacts for Blaine, remembering the promise he made to himself last night, "I did." Santana lets out a loud laugh and Rachel continues staring into her coffee, scandalised, as Kurt walks into his room again, stripping the sheets off the bed as he says, "Hi, Blaine. I just wanted to catch up and tell you I miss you and I wish I could see you for the holidays. Yeah, I'm fine. Hungover. Well, it's a long story, do you really want to hear it?"
And he knows he isn't imagining the way Blaine's voice goes high and strained as he recounts an edited version of his night. If he slows down his words and starts to give some of the dirtier details towards the end, who can blame him? He's not going to let his love life implode into a hot mess by getting sexual with his ex.