Disclaimer - I don't own it.
Just something short I came up with.
Possibly a longer story, if the public wants. ;)
Summary: Finn has bruises, and Kurt's there to help.
Rated T for obvious reasons.
xoxo, Chuck.
"How is this possible?"
Kurt glanced up from his Vogue magazine. Finn's shirt was halfway up his back and he was inspecting a large, purple bruise on his lower back. Kurt blinked twice and flushed a bright pink. "What do you mean?"
Finn frowned at his reflection. "Do you see that?"
"I'd be considered legally blind if I couldn't. It's hard to miss. You look slightly like Brad Pitt in Fight Club."
Finn tilted his head, surprised. "You've seen that movie?"
Of course he had. He could never get enough of Edward Norton. "How did that happen, Finn?"
"I don't remember."
"That's a promising answer."
"I mean...It must have happened during football or something." He pulled his shirt higher, revealing more yellow and black on his torso and shoulder blades. Kurt averted his eyes, glancing down at his comforter. Since the huge blowout last year, Finn had been extremely carefully about keeping his clothes on around Kurt after he'd moved back in. As the muscles in his back rippled and he finally just tugged his shirt over his head, Kurt thought solely of his grandmother in a bikini and McQueen selling stirrup pants. He had to awkwardly cross his legs when Finn made a soft moaning sound as the cotton brushed against his sore skin.
"You should rub some of that lotion that you're always preaching about on those." Kurt managed quietly, trying to focus diligently on Scarlett Johansson, who was sporting a new Prada coat.
"Bengay?" Finn seemed to consider this and then tromped toward the bathroom.
And returned five minutes later, not only shirtless, but also carrying a thin tube of what Kurt guessed to be Bengay.
"Hey, Kurt -"
"No."
"I haven't even asked yet!"
"The answer is still no. I'm reading." Or at least trying to read. Finn pouted. "Okay, what?"
"I can't reach the bruises -"
"No."
"Kuuuurrtttt. It hurts!"
"Stop whining." He flipped his magazine closed, admitting defeat, and gestured for Finn to sit in front of him. Finn happily handed over the tube of lotion. "Which one?"
Finn arched his back, whining slightly as Kurt's nimble fingers brushed over two on his shoulder blades."Those. And the one on my lower back."
Kurt sucked in a breath. Yes, he still loved Finn. Yes, he already had an issue in his pants. Yes, this could be disastrous. But despite all of those factors, he was going to help Finn.
Because that was the nice, brotherly thing to do.
So Kurt smeared lotion onto his fingers and, very slowly, rubbed it into the first bruise on Finn's smooth skin. Finn let out a little breathy sigh. "Does that hurt?"
"No," He mumbled softly, his head drooping."Feels so good. Don't stop."
Kurt's cheeks stained red as dirty thoughts flooded his mind. He wondered if Finn knew how much he was turning him on with those little sighs of pleasure and groans when Kurt's fingers pressed a little too hard.
It became obvious that he didn't, because he stretched himself out, laying back up on Kurt's double bed, his long legs dangling off the end. Kurt bit back a moan of longing.
Once he was finished with Finn's shoulder blades, he hesitated. The large bruise on the small of his back dipped into his jeans. How awkward would it be if Kurt (literally) stuck his hands down Finn's pants?
"Please, keep going." Came Finn's encouragement. Kurt sucked in a breath and touched Finn very lightly on the large black and blue. There was an sharp intake of pain, but Finn merely rolled his head to the side and closed his eyes.
Soon, he was letting out little snores.
Kurt sighed and unfolded his legs. He had a major problem. He knew if he stopped rubbing Finn's skin, the jock was immediately wake up and demand to know why he'd stopped.
But Kurt had a little...issue, aching in his pants. Feeling slightly like he was taking advantage of his "friend", Kurt lowered his mouth to the bruise and pressed a soft, feathery kiss to the worn skin.
Finn mumbled something about "stupid Left Tackle".
Kurt let out a sigh of relief.
"Finn. I'm going to kiss you now, alright?"
"Don't...stop...feels...good...keep...going..."
Kurt smiled. "Well, if you insist."
He lowered his head again, kissing the very small of Finn's back, and let his lips move upward. He kissed and licked his way up Finn's spine, loving the salty taste of his skin.
He felt a rush of happiness; here he was, kissing the boy he loved, without any consequences.
And he couldn't stop himself.
His lips found Finn's shoulder blades, his broad shoulders, his smooth neck, the outer shell of his ear. His cheek, his nose, his forehead.
Kurt's eyes opened, staring at the boy's slightly parted lips. He could steal a real kiss from him.
Bending his head, letting his eyes fall shut, and hoping to the Gucci God that Finn didn't wake up, Kurt dropped the smallest of kisses onto the jock's soft lips.
And was immediately met with a fiery passion that made him moan. Finn's hands pulled him down beside him, his lips moving ferociously over Kurt's, fingers slipping under the soprano's favorite Chanel cardigan.
Kurt fell backwards, off the bed, gasping. Finn was sat up, dazed and confused, his slow mind unable to put the pieces together.
What just happened?
And why did Finn kind of want to do it again?
REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW. please? :D
