Disclaimer: Still not mine. And I am still poor.
A/N: This is where the rating picks up. Warnings for boy loving. If you don't like it..why did you read this far? And reviews make me happy and encourage me to write faster.
Part 2
"His" apartment.
Ha.
It, and the shop it sat above, was an old safe house of the family's, refurbished and security enhanced when Blaine declared that since the situation had calmed down, he needed a place that was his, where he could have plants and groceries and wouldn't have to worry about business.
Cooper hadn't been thrilled—he wanted his second to stay in the family's house, where security was best and he would be protected (if need be) and would be there in a crisis (knock on wood, but Cooper was a practical Capo).
After a month of heated debates and grudging compromises with some old-fashioned sibling rivalry and power dynamics inherent to their business, Cooper allowed Blaine to choose one of the safe houses as long as Blaine would consent to the cameras being monitored, never bring work home with him, and to be careful who he invited in.
Blaine did, brows furrowed, jaw clenched, and knuckles white at not being trusted. Cooper had nearly raised him, after all. He knew the rules well enough to be chosen as Coop's second. He was smart and good at what he did. All he wanted was some space to himself.
The apartment was little, old, and perfect for him. His one neighbor was an old man with a cat who smoked too much and kept to himself, having already passed whatever background check and signed whatever gag rule necessary to live next to the family.
Still, Cooper didn't approve (Coop being fonder of grander things than apartments above stores), but he had to keep reminding himself it wasn't Cooper's life.
And even living in separate places, it wasn't like Blaine didn't see Cooper nearly every day and essentially live at the family's house.
But when he was home, he could dance around the living room without fear of someone who answered to him walking in and losing respect. He could practice his piano (the small upright tucked into the corner of the office) without interrupting a meeting for a deal on the wrong side of the law.
He could be himself and it was okay.
The trip didn't take any longer than usual, even if Blaine was floating, muscle memory and reflexes honed to be quick keeping him alive as he nearly walked into a taxi. He couldn't figure out what would have possessed Smythe to make such a foolish move. Had he been dropped on his head as a child? Or perhaps more recently? Moving such a sensitive piece, openly talking about it to a fence known to talk, that was asking for the FBI to come knocking down doors and disturbing the peace they were trying to maintain.
Shaking himself out of his work mindset and realizing he was standing in the middle of his living room, staring blindly at the wall, he started a shower, pulling out the clothes he would wear for his gig before getting in and washing the layers of formality off his skin, leaving the spicy clean scent of his body wash. Gel washed cleanly out of his hair, tensions flowing away with the suds down the drain.
Too soon the water was cooling; Blaine forced himself to leave the comforting warmth of the shower for the rest of the bathroom, goose-bumps rising when his heated skin was hit by air far too chilled for the amount of steam. Dry and towel wrapped around his waist, he brushed his teeth quickly, combed the slightest bit of product into his hair to help tame the mass of curls. Deciding against shaving (again) for time's sake, he sprayed on some cologne and opened the bathroom door, shivering slightly.
Clothes—black slacks with a dark purple pinstripe, gray dress shirt covering his undershirt, purple vest, and a purple bow tie—warmed him up, the layers insulating against the heat. Black and purple socked feet slid into black shoes dressy enough to perform in but comfortable enough to walk in. Blaine grabbed his bag from its place by the piano, adding his phone and keys before heading to the gig and, hopefully, Kurt.
Two songs into his set, Blaine looked up to see Kurt at the bar, as near to his 'normal' spot as could be, drink resting idly on his crossed leg as he watched Blaine play. Throwing him a quick grin, getting a nod and a raised glass as toast, Blaine focused on his music again. The rest of that half of his set was easy, technically. He had played this music more times than he cared to admit.
Keeping the grin off his face at knowing someone (male, gay, his age, attractive) had come to see him play and was interested in him, was a completely different matter. Not for the first time, Blaine was grateful for the less-than-expert audience that wouldn't notice that he was relying on muscle memory and simple memorized words, holding back the shit-eating grin was taking up almost all of his focus. He'd keep his happiness to himself. At least until he had…talked…to Kurt more. Gotten to…know him better. Something like that.
He gets the signal that he is free to take a break a few songs later, a few seconds after that he is approaching Kurt's place at the bar, water bottle in hand.
"Fancy seeing you here." Kurt smirked at him, setting his empty glass on its napkin before rising to greet Blaine with…a kiss on his cheek? Blaine felt his cheeks heat as soft lips brushed against his scruff.
"I seem to remember a handsome stranger promised me a drink?"
"Oh. Of course. What would you...?" He was visibly scrambling, hands gesturing wildly to flag down the bartender.
Blaine reached out with his free hand to stop the waving, desperately hoping that he felt the same shot of electricity. "Kurt, relax. I have my water until I'm done." Blaine brandished the bottle before sitting next to Kurt, brushing their knees together and watching Kurt seem to lean into the brief touch. "No drinking on the job."
"No drunken serenades?"
"Not for these customers. Buy me dinner first and I'll see what I can do."
"You really serenade people when drunk?"
"It has happened before. Generally after telling embarrassing stories and before making out with girls."
"I take it girls are not your normal make out partners?"
"Not unless I'm stupendously drunk, which doesn't happen often."
Glancing down, Kurt muttered something that sounded like "Good to know."
"Did you say something?"
"What? Oh. No. I'm just talking to myself. It's been a long week and my brain may be going a little insane."
"Going?"
"Gone. And is that any way to speak to someone who is buying your drinks? I might slip something in one."
"Who says you need to?" He looked at Kurt through lowered lashes in time to see that Kurt's lip had been pulled between his teeth, cheeks flushing, and one hand stroking across the thumb of the other as he looked away from Blaine. "Anyway, I have to go do the second half of the set and then I am all yours, insane-man."
"Don't let me keep you from your adoring fans." Blaine squeezed Kurt's hands, still clasped over his knee before returning to his piano, swigging from his water bottle as he went. "Did everybody miss me?"
The second half of the set was a blur as Blaine tried to figure out plans to get Kurt into his bed that night (Cooper's rules about no visitors that hadn't been cleared could go fuck themselves with a rusty spork). If he wanted it to only be a one night thing, then getting him drunk enough followed by some dancing should do it.
But…
Blaine wasn't sure he wanted a one night stand.
Logically, he had just met this entrancing man. He didn't know anything about him, apart from what training had taught him to look for and what Kurt had shared.
But…there was something about this man that had something inside him chanting 'You don't need to look anymore. This one is forever.'
Which was completely unlike him.
He didn't do relationships for many reasons, the business being the foremost. How do you explain to someone that you are third in command of one of the most infamous crime families in New York and that by being involved with you, by loving you, he is a target? It wasn't as if you couldn't be an Anderson-Genovese with a family. Rachel had a beau, Quinn and Puck were on and off, and Brittney had someone she never talked about with him but he was pretty sure existed.
But none of them was blood relatives to the Boss and all were fourth command and lower. If someone would be targeted, someone whose being hurt would hurt the family, it would be someone related to his father, leaving anyone Blaine or Cooper chose at risk.
And yet… He didn't want to put anyone at risk. As long as they were careful, and he was careful to not let too much slip… There hadn't been any hits against them in a while. The worst thing that was shaping up was the Spadary fiasco. And if Cooper was able to smooth that over before the suits came in…
He'd just see where it went, then. For tonight, he would be content to admire the contrast of moon-pale skin against the deep ocean of the sheets on his bed.
True to his word, Kurt was waiting for him at the bar, glaring at anyone who tried to take the seat next to him and nursing his drink, an untouched Manhattan sitting next to him. "I took the liberty of ordering you what you got last time."
Blaine hummed contentedly before sipping, dropping into the empty seat. "Yes. Forget what I said before. You are brilliant."
"You, sir, seem to have a very changeable opinion of me."
"You, sir, seem to be changeable in general."
"Just because I say I've had a long week and then remember…" He stopped when Blaine covered his hand on the counter, glancing down to their hands and back up at Blaine.
"I am sorry I said anything. I was only teasing. Why don't you tell me about this hellish week of yours?" Their hands separated as Kurt animatedly described hell-bent bosses and clients who shouldn't have a say in fashion, but their knees brushed together once…twice…staying connected the third time, a conduit for the sparks of heat and electricity to flow between them.
As they finished their drinks and ordered another round, Blaine slid his leg between Kurt's now uncrossed legs, hooking his calf behind the other man's. A slight pull had Kurt leaning in closer, the space between them closing. Sitting close together, laughing and talking about everything (literally, their conversation went from Kurt's work to Blaine's as a pianist to music to high school and to their shared love of coffee and iced versus hot), Blaine had to stop himself from wondering if everyone felt this, or if this was special, this ease with which he found himself talking to a near-stranger.
He was so comfortable, in fact, that multiple times he had to stop himself from telling Kurt how he and his brother did weapons inventory and cleaning while dancing and parroting Disney movies, because while fraternal bonding over Disney could pass as normal, weapons inventory could not. He wondered if Kurt, blue eyes bright with enthusiasm as they debated which run of Phantom of the Opera was better and if Love Never Dies was really necessary, was having the same problem.
Their drinks empty, both flushed from the alcohol and proximity, the conversation ends abruptly as Kurt's eyes flick down to Blaine's mouth and back up, words dying on his lips as Blaine registered the movement. "Suddenly, I'm famished. Can I buy you dinner? Maybe we can be all tourist-y and get hot dogs?"
"Well…I wouldn't want to spill.." Blaine drops his smile, the pout exaggerated. "Put the puppy away. We can sit and eat, then we will both be happy. And this is my night to pay."
"Nooo." Blaine pushed playfully against Kurt's knee. "I said you owed me drinks. Dinner is not the same thing as drinks."
"Mhm. And I am calling paying for dinner too."
"Don't you have work tomorrow?"
Kurt leaned in closer, crooking his finger to indicate Blaine should do the same. "Don't tell anyone, but I am currently at home with a terrible cold and I will probably be out until Monday."
"Scandalous! An upstanding, hard-working man like you playing hooky?"
"Mmm. Yes. Who knows? I might be stuck in bed anyway." Blaine blinked at Kurt, brain fumbling to process this helpful turn of event, skidding to a halt as Kurt closed the distance, one hand high on Blaine's thigh, the other cupping the back of his neck as mouths angled together, lips moving lazily.
Blaine gasped as Kurt took his bottom lip between his own before Kurt seized the opportunity, tongue sliding smoothly in, coaxing Blaine's to twist, tasting each other. Blaine could feel his eyes, already closed, rolling into the back of his head; Kurt tasted like a dream and kissed like sin, the burn of the vodka and the taste of Kurt combined could probably become addictive. It was unfair that anyone could be so skilled with his tongue, and Blaine knew he could hold his own when it came to kissing.
They pulled back at the same time. "Wow. Um. So. I'm gonna go get my bag and then we'll grab dinner? Then figure it out from there?" Kurt nodded quickly, lower lip again caught and worried by his teeth.
Before he convinced himself he could get into his apartment without his keys in order to re-attach himself to Kurt's divine lips he made his way to the employee-only area to grab his bag and think up a strategy. There was a food cart not too far from his apartment or their current location, then they could meander to the park to eat. Then…hopefully to his apartment. Or dancing. But hopefully they would end the night in Blaine's bed.
Plan sketched out in his head, Blaine returned to Kurt, who was on the phone, a smile breaking out when their eyes met. "…find. Of course, Blackbird. You too." Phone slid neatly back into his pocket as he stood, tugging his coat on. "All set? I already paid so you can't."
"Aren't you clever?" Blaine patted the bag hanging from his shoulder. "Shall we?"
Kurt tucked his hand into the crook of Blaine's proffered elbow. "We shall."
Everything was set in Blaine's head. Dinner. Dancing. Apartment. "Do you mind walking? I know of a good place and it's not far."
"Lead away." They fell into step and conversation, Kurt occasionally pulling free of Blaine's arm to gesture or leaning his head against Blaine's shoulder as they walked. Everything was going to plan.
Until it wasn't.
The food cart was in sight, lit up by the street lamps. They were waiting at a crosswalk for their turn when Kurt turned to face him, cold arms sliding under his jacket to rest against the small of his back, fiddling with his belt loops.
Blaine looked up at Kurt, eyebrows raised in question, then in surprise when, for the second time that night, Kurt leaned down, his lips warm, soft, and dry against Blaine's, both sighing at the contact. Needing more, Blaine turned his head to deepen the kiss.
A quick swipe at Kurt's bottom lip and Kurt opened his mouth, allowing Blaine to taste, flicking over the roof of his mouth, tasting the addictive heat of the lingering vodka and soda before twisting around Kurt's tongue and drawing it back into his own mouth.
They stepped closer, one of Kurt's hands easing its way across his waist and working its way up, smoothing over Blaine's stomach, chest, neck before fisting in the curls at the base of his neck pulling lightly before threading deeper to scritch at his scalp. Thankfully his moan was swallowed in the kiss.
Kurt pulled back, Blaine reluctantly relinquishing his hold on Kurt's tongue when Kurt pulled. "I am suddenly no longer hungry."
"That's um…fine. What would you like to...?"
"Is your apartment nearby?"
"Yes. You want to?"
"Yes."
Blaine stared for a minute. "Okay."
He hadn't been lying. His apartment was very close, down two blocks and around the corner. Sooner than his brain could process anything other than the feel of Kurt's lips, hot against his skin, tongue a wet fire as it traced shapes under his ear, their place in front of Blaine's door and keys waiting for use forgotten.
Blaine had never felt so enveloped in simply kissing: it wasn't the fact that Kurt was taller than him. He was under no illusions that such a feat was difficult.
But there was something about Kurt, the collected passion and confidence in the pull of his teeth and lips and the play of his tongue against Blaine's, the taste of his mouth and skin that was more than the burn of vodka and the bitter of moisturizer. But there was something frantically vying for his attention at the back of his mind and a corner of his heart, something both familiar and new.
He'd have to ask Kurt what mouthwash he used.
The loud cough of the resident of 1A, who shared a landing with him, startled them both out of their kiss.
"Sorry. We'll be out of your way as soon as I can find my…" He reached for his bag, patting the normal pocket. His keys were… Kurt, with bee-stung lips and color high across his cheeks, eyes shining lifted his hand, Blaine's keychain dangling from a long finger. "How did you?"
"Magic. Just open the door so we can be out of the way."
Keys snatched from Kurt, a click of the lock before a rattle as Blaine tossed the wayward keys into their bowl, before he spun around, tugging Kurt inside. A glare without real heat caused Blaine to look down at where he was pulling Kurt's shirt, stretching the fabric over a leather cuff. He dropped the offending hand. "Sorry."
"I'm in the fashion industry, my clothes are important."
"Are they, now? So you would be offended if"— Blaine unwrapped the scarf from Kurt's neck, letting it pool on the ground in front of the closed door—"I treated them"—his coat, deftly unbuttoned, followed next, tossed haphazardly over the back of the nearest chair—"as if"—the smaller buttons of the vest took longer, made worse when Kurt tugged impatiently at Blaine's coat, tangling their arms as they both undid the other's vests—"they were from Target?" Vests hit the floor, leaving still more layers. "Seriously, Kurt, are you an onion?"
"Because you're wearing so much less." The reply was sharp, softened by Kurt's eyes flicking between Blaine's eyes and his lips, which he imagined were just as pink and swollen as Kurt's. Blaine stepped in closer, relishing the quick intake of breath audible through Kurt's slightly parted lips, hands coming up to rub against the swath of navy dress shirt revealed by his vest at his hip before turning on his heel to head closer to the bedroom, toe-ing off shoes as he moved.
He heard Kurt behind him before he felt a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around, the other closing on his tie, loosened without his vest. The hand on his tie yanked, pulling him back to Kurt. Their mouths collided hotly, opening to each other quickly. Blaine's hands fisted at the back of Kurt's shirt, rucking it up to reveal smooth, pale skin if his eyes weren't closed to see the fireworks as Kurt's tongue roughly thrust into his mouth, owning him as he guided Blaine backwards. The thud as he hit the wall shook their mouths apart, Kurt seizing the opportunity to press open-mouthed kisses down Blaine's met, sucking lightly at his pulse, the underside of his jaw.
Hands explored the wide expanse of Kurt's back, a groan tearing through his lips as Kurt tugged on his earlobe, soothing the sting with his tongue before continuing on, mouth dotting hot and wet against Blaine's skin.
Blindly fumbling, Blaine pulled his hands out from under Kurt's shirt, drawing shivers and a high groan as his callused fingertips dragged across the smooth muscle, to unknot Kurt's tie. Feeling that Blaine couldn't get the knot loosened, Kurt leaned back long enough to loosen and remove the offending article before taking Blaine's tie again, turning, hitting the wall and dragging Blaine with him.
For a few moments it was different. Lips parted, tongues exploring languidly, hands pulled lightly at the hair they were fisted in or smoothed over the lines of muscle still concealed underneath untucked shirts.
For a few moments, Blaine basked it what he imagined was a kiss of two boyfriends, comfortable with each other's bodies. The frenzied need to uncover and taste and learn had calmed, no less passionate: hot embers waiting for the right puff of air to be set ablaze again.
Slowly, it changed, the slide of Kurt's hands through his curls, down the side of his neck to untie his tie, letting it drop to coil at their feet, further down, unbuttoning Blaine's shirt became the one breath of wind against the embers of the kiss. Lips separated slightly, hot breath mingling between their open mouths as Kurt's fingers push Blaine's shirt off his shoulders, gliding appreciatively over the golden skin underneath.
As Kurt's hands, smoother than Blaine's danced across his torso, hiking up his undershirt over the planes of muscle, the little voice in his head screamed once more. This shouldn't be happening. You don't know him. You shouldn't be feeling like this, let alone sleeping with him. But you definitely shouldn't be feeling this. Pull away and send him on his way or take control.
Having lifted his arms up and been divested of his undershirt, Blaine decided he didn't care. He should be concerned that he was shirtless with a strange man when the lights were on, tattoos visible to eyes that shouldn't know what they mean but could be questioned about them later. But at this moment, it felt good. It felt right. And for tonight, he was going to treat himself.
A firm hand on the back of Kurt's neck drew their lips together again, both inhaling through their noses and eyes closing at the pleasure of the renewed contact, heads tilting and fitting together perfectly. One of Kurt's hands danced its way up Blaine's arm, feeling the bulge of his bicep to cup his cheek and the side of his neck as Blaine leaned up to meet Kurt's mouth.
The flames under Blaine's skin settled down slightly as they kissed, back to relishing the taste of the other and the feel of the other under each other's fingers.
But Blaine didn't want comfort, didn't want familiar. This was new and he wanted it to feel that way, feel that Kurt as being consumed by the same fire he was.
One more tilt of his head, and everything clicked into place. Blaine groaned deep in his throat, Kurt's hands raked down his back to cup his ass, pulling Blaine into him, the force pushing Kurt more firmly against the wall and their hips into each other.
Their mouths wrenched apart at the contact, both half hard under their slacks, panting as their eyes met for the first time since Blaine turned from Kurt.
The world held still as they looked at each other, both breathing heavily and surveying. Kurt's eyes, normally the clear blue-green of a sun-kissed ocean, were dark, pupils blown wide. There was a flush splotching high on his cheeks, down his neck to disappear under his shirt. Lips swollen and painfully pink, the beginnings of scruff-burn on his cheeks. Chest heaving as he caught his breath and Blaine's eye, his own gaze flitting to Blaine's mouth, roving downward with purpose, then back up. Eyelids half closed and body shifting to lean more fully against the wall, legs stepping apart as Blaine felt fingers scrape along his waist, playing at his belt loops before tugging him in sharply.
Blaine's arms came up to brace himself on either side on Kurt's shoulders, broad, so much broader than they appeared. Kurt tugged again. "Come here. No. Closer."
"Not until you lose the shirt, we're not even yet."
"Fuck you." But Kurt, who said he cared so much about clothes, who said he worked in the fashion industry, yanked his shirt and undershirt up and over his head faster than Blaine thought was possible, nearly hitting Blaine in the process.
Blaine ducked quickly, laughing, resettling himself closer to Kurt, the heat radiating between them quickly becoming distracting. "Only seen at night, impeccable fashion taste, freakishly pale, and apparently really fast. Do you sparkle in the sunlight?"
"Blaine Anderson, if you are asking if I am one of the wimpiest"—Kurt's hands curled around Blaine's biceps, drawing him in even closer, both hissing as their bare chests touched, then pressed together—"vampires ever to have been imagined, I am going to leave you to your hand, your imagination, and then a very cold shower." A quick cant up of his hips nearly brought Blaine to his knees, liquid fire pooling at the base of his spine.
Blaine chose not to answer, deciding to Kurt was still far too lucid. Lips attached themselves to Kurt's neck. One hand trailed down the firm length of Kurt's body, circling around pebbled nipples, dipping into his navel, through the light line of hair leading down, disappearing under pants that were still on.
"Why do you still have pants on?" Kurt groaned, Blaine could feel his hands warm against his back, manicured nails digging in. Still mouthing at Kurt's neck, occasionally tilting his head to pull at Kurt's earlobe (because who could possibly resist those delicious noises?), Blaine ran his fingernails lightly at the the tendons of his hips then down over Kurt's slacks. He toyed with Kurt's belt before unhooking it and slowly sliding it free, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down and off slim hips, Kurt arching off the wall to free them from the curve of his ass.
"I could say the same about…fuck…you"—Blaine had started playing at the edges of his boxer briefs, fingernails scraping lightly through the dusting of hair on the tops of Kurt's thighs before dragging over the thin fabric, tortuously close to the swiftly hardening length beginning to strain against its confines.
Meeting and holding Kurt's gaze and smirking at the eyebrow lifted in question, Blaine sank slowly to his knees, dotting kisses down Kurt's chest, licking across nipples before blowing lightly, further down, tongue leaving a wet trail as he went, pausing to lap at Kurt's belly button, circling it with his tongue.
He laughed and moved his hands to Kurt's hips at the whine and weak thrusts towards Blaine when he moved to the side, mouthing at the indent of his hip bone, sucking hard just above the crease, the cry increasing in pitch as fingers threaded roughly through his curls as Blaine switched sides, leaving a matching mark on the other hip.
"You've waited this long. You can wait a little longer." Blaine sank back on his hips, tugging Kurt's sinfully tight pants with him. He lifted up on Kurt's calf, indicating Kurt needed to hold his leg up to free his pants from where they pooled at his ankles. When Kurt obliged, Blaine pulled his sock with the pants, repeating the move on the other side.
Scooting a little closer, Blaine looked up at Kurt now towering over him, the bulge in his boxer briefs noticeably twitching as their eyes met. "Holy...Fuck, Blaine. You look so good."
Blaine decided he liked it when Kurt's words turned into whines, soaring upwards as Blaine rose up to mouth once, twice at Kurt's length before lowering again, pressing kisses to his legs, moving up one and then back down the other, rubbing his rough cheek against Kurt's knee and grinning as the man above him babbled.
He exhaled hotly twice over the damp patch forming on the front of Kurt's underwear, licking over the fabric as Kurt clutched at his hair, tugging with increasing purpose until—"Blaine. Stand up, lose the pants, and take me to your bed. Fucking me against the wall is fine, but a bed would be-" Blaine silenced Kurt, swallowing his words as he shucked off his own pants, separating only long enough to yank them and his socks off his feet before crashing their bodies together, colliding in a mess of teeth, tongue, and hands racing over the fevered skin of the other.
He stepped back, leading Kurt into his bedroom, narrowly missing the doorjamb. He used the opportunity to turn them and back Kurt up until the backs of his knees hit them bed and he fell, the hands on his hip and back guiding Blaine down on top of him.
A combined effort had Kurt moved towards the center of the bed. Bracing himself with one arm to hover over Kurt, Blaine could only find the strength to stay away for one word before lowering himself on top of the man sprawled beneath him. "Beautiful."
And Kurt really was beautiful, hard lines of muscle rippling under pale skin as he arched his back to try to bring himself closer to Blaine's mouth, drawing a chuckle from Blaine. The laugh turned into a groan as Blaine gave in, sinking down to mouth at Kurt's neck, their hips meeting, rolling against each other. The sensation of Kurt, hot, hard, dripping through his underwear nearly had Blaine lose it, a problem he hadn't had since the beginning of college.
He felt Kurt's fingers tangle again in his hair, tugging as Kurt rolled his hips off the bed and into his. A quick shift to the left and everything clicked again, their now fully hard lengths sliding perfectly against each other, the rough drag of the fabric the only thing keeping Blaine this side of an orgasm.
Kurt's hands slid free of his curls, scratching their way down Blaine's back to cup his ass, one hand remaining as the other slid lower, just under the curve to…holy sweet mother. Kurt's hands pushed Blaine even harder into him and both moaned into each other, thrusting faster. If Blaine didn't do something else soon, it would end far too soon.
With a strength he didn't know he had, Blaine pulled himself back up Kurt's body and away from his hips, quickly memorizing which spots drew the loudest moans, the highest whimpers. The spots that would make his back arch and the breath die on his lips, hips desperately thrusting against the air. The challenge to make Kurt vocal offset the pooling want between his legs displayed in the amount of precome flowing from his hardened cock.
"Stop teasing me and do something, Anderson."
"Bossy, Hummel."
"Yes, now fucking do something before I—" The demand turned into a scream. Blaine was a fast learner. His mouth covered the head of Kurt's cock fast enough to feel the upwards buck of his hips as he lightly twisted a nipple, scraping the hand down to rest above the waistband of Kurt's underwear, pressing right under his rib, the combination of two of the moves that had gotten the best reaction. If the taste of Kurt through the fabric was any indication, Blaine would be completely addicted to Kurt's body by the end of the night.
"As you wish." Raising onto his hips, Blaine smoothed his hands over Kurt, sweat beading on his forehead and dampening his skin. Kurt whimpered and Blaine could feel Kurt's lust-darkened eyes on him, sending another spike on want through him, causing him to nearly fall as he rolled over to the edge of the bed to the set of drawers. Blaine had barely grabbed the small bottle and a foil packet before Kurt had hooked his legs around Blaine's middle, pulling him sideways onto the bed.
Bottle and packet dropped, forgotten as Kurt rolled him onto his back, straddling high on his thighs, their still-covered erections brushing with the contact, Kurt's breath caught as Blaine groaned, hips canting together reflexively. He could kill for more contact. He would steal a national treasure for more contact.
Thankfully, Kurt was on the same wavelength, taking his time to explore Blaine. A constant stream of swearing and praising fell from his lips as Kurt leaned down and dotted kisses across his collarbone, sucking lightly as the skin before moving on, licking against Blaine's fevered skin.
Lightning ran down his spine to join the pool of heat welling at its base as Kurt's mouth, molten-lava hot and deliciously wet, closed around his nipple, sucking it into a stiff peak, free hand raking through the dusting of hair across Blaine's chest before toying with the unattended nipple.
Blaine couldn't think as Kurt ran his thumb over the pebbled skin as he took the one in his mouth between his lips and pulled up lightly, mouth falling open and moaning, hands twisting hard in Kurt's hair before scratching down and up his back. Kurt hummed around the nipple before switching, Blaine whimpering at the momentary loss of contact.
Blaine felt the whimper deepen into a moan he didn't have the ability to stifle as the warmth wrapped around the other nipple, Kurt paying just as much attention. It was more than Blaine could do—he knew he had always been sensitive, but he had never been played like an instrument, his hips thrusting shallowly up and against Kurt.
Kurt sucked hard, pinching his other nipple and Blaine saw stars, arching off the bed, rocking himself against Kurt. The man above him abandoned the stiffened nipple to cry out and thrust back against Blaine, erections meeting as Kurt sit up and circles his hips, slowly, rocking down. Magically balancing himself, Kurt's left hand slid up Blaine's torso from its resting place on the bed, stroking the tattoo on Blaine's right side. And sweet baby Jesus how is a tattoo so sensitive after nearly ten years?
Later, Blaine might be embarrassed by how quickly he found himself teetering closer and closer to coming from only this. At the moment, all he could think about was sinking into Kurt's dark heat, making this entrancing man writhe beneath him. Thankfully, Blaine had a large bed, so when he rolled over, maneuvering Kurt under him, neither of them was pitched to the floor.
Kurt laughed at the sudden move. "Eager, are we?"
Blaine just leaned down, feeling Kurt's smile against his lips and his own answering. The kiss gave them a brief reprieve, allowing Blaine to re-center his head and breathe. Kurt's lips were soft against his own, light and happy as a smile kept tugging on them. Blaine shifted, bracketing Kurt's hips with his knees, resting his forehead against Kurt's as they both cooled off.
Ten breaths later, Blaine decided that they had cooled off enough—he was no longer in danger of coming before he tasted Kurt. The light kisses began to linger, mouths opening again, tongues twisting together, Kurt's stroking against Blaine's, their moans swallowed in the other's mouth. Blaine forced himself away, kissing his way down Kurt's chest, reveling in the increasingly loud moans vibrating in the hard chest under him, each sound nearly causing one of his own.
Wondering vaguely why it took him so long, Blaine moved to the side so he could finally tug on Kurt's boxer briefs. The tight fabric caught briefly, then pulled free, Kurt's length jutting out proudly, flushed a deep pink and head glistening. Between the two of them, they got the underwear completely free of Kurt.
Blaine took a moment to enjoy the man laid out before him, a whimpered "please" reminding him of his plans to taste. He licked lazily across his palm, eyes meeting the now navy of Kurt's, gazes holding until Kurt's drifted shut and mouth opened in a silent cry as Blaine reached out and wrapped his hand around Kurt. He stroked slowly, savoring the silken skin beneath his hand, teasingly pressing his thumb into the prominent veins and over the head, smoothing the wetness gathered. Above him, Kurt moaned obscenely, fingers twisting into the sheets.
Taking pity on him, Blaine moved closer, bringing his mouth down to the crease at Kurt's thigh as his hand continued stroking, soothing a light nip with his tongue. He repeated this, moving ever closer. His mouth hovered over Kurt, meeting heavy-lidded eyes as he encircled the base of Kurt's cock before reaching out and licking up the side from the top of his hand to swirl his tongue around the head, moaning because finally and he had no idea what had taken him so long.
He sank down a little further, an arm coming up to rest against Kurt's hips to still their bucking. He tightened his lips around Kurt, just under the crown, sucking greedily, humming as jumbled, half-formed words spilled from his mouth, high and breathy.
A quick glance up showed Kurt's head thrashing back and forth, knuckles on his hands white as they fisted in the sheets, lips parted in a moan, then the bottom sucked into his mouth before parting to let loose another stream of nonsense.
Taking his time to savor, Blaine worked his way down the length of Kurt's cock, jaw complaining slightly, muscles tight before they loosened at the remembered activity.
His tongue worried the bulging vein on the way down, hollowing out his cheeks on the way up, playing with the slit before sinking back down, a little deeper each time. He would have smiled if his lips weren't already stretched tight—Kurt was amazingly responsive, and between the taste and feel of the cock in his mouth and the little whimpers and cries from above him Blaine was more turned on than he thought was possible. A few minutes of heaven later, Blaine had slowly shifted so he could rest the full length of his forearm across Kurt's hips, pinning him down against the inevitable jerking.
Taking a deep breath and willing himself to relax, Blaine lowered his mouth down, removing the hand holding the hard length upright, then further. He paused, breathing through his nose as Kurt tickled his soft palate.
Pressing down against Kurt's slim hips, he swallowed, throat stretching. As he swallowed around Kurt, his now free hand dropped between Kurt's opened thighs, fondling his balls, moving lower to stroke his perineum, even lower to circle the puckered hole inching its way back up. When the need for air became too great, he pulled off, gasping as he tried to breathe normally.
Above him, Kurt panted roughly, murmurs louder. Blaine took him back into his mouth, humming in pleasure as a hand tangled in his curls, pressing down softly in asking. Humming again (because smiling with a mouthful of hard cock was difficult), Blaine slid back down, letting Kurt's hand guide him until he was swallowing again, nose pressed into neatly trimmed hair, free hand moving again downwards, circling repeatedly, not pressing in yet. Kurt bucked wildly under his arm as the muscle under Blaine's fingertips fluttered with the attention.
When he pulled off, a strand of spit and pre-come strung between his lips and Kurt, a cylinder was poking at his shoulder insistently. He looked up, a jolt racing down his spine to where his dick was pressed into the mattress, still confined by his own underwear, to find Kurt holding the lube bottle in his hand, prodding Blaine with it, seemingly incapable of full sentences.
"Use—use your words, babe."
"Fuck—you—fuck me."
"No more sucking?"
Kurt's eyes darkened and narrowed, his chest heaving as he propped himself up on his elbows, speaking wonders for his determination. "I want you to be inside me when I come, and if you don't get a move on I won't last."
The words shot to Blaine's groin, a groan that might disturb his neighbor rumbling through his throat. He took the bottle, the familiar click the only noise aside from their labored pants. A line squeezed onto his hands before he tossed the bottle to his side, warming it up and coating his fingers before repositioning, Kurt bending his knees and parting his legs impossibly wide for Blaine to settle between. If Kurt was shy he didn't show it, and he certainly had no reason to be.
Sitting up, his own cock hard still hard and straining, begging for attention, Blaine ran the lubed hand down Kurt's perineum, circling the puckered skin. Kurt whined louder, more "fuck..Blaine..now..please..fuck"s falling from his mouth.
Taking pity (and wanting to be buried in Kurt, a desire he seemed to keep forgetting), Blaine slowly pushed one finger in, to the first knuckle, then deeper. Gods above, Kurt was heaven, impossibly hot and tight and fucking him might be the death of Blaine. Oh, but what a death it would be.
Watching Kurt's face for an indication he should continue, Blaine pulled out his finger, sliding two in on the next stroke. He paused, a slight wince at the burn playing across Kurt's face fading with the upwards stroke Blaine gave his cock. Kurt twisted his hips and bore down, obviously searching for more. Blaine obliged, scissoring as he went, mouth going dry and wetness beading through his underwear at the sight of his fingers disappearing into Kurt.
"More. Fuck. More, Blaine." Kurt's voice was breathy, gasping out the words, hands soothing over his torso then up Blaine's arm, tracing the muscle before dropping with the addition of a third slicked finger. There was no wince, just a moan accompanying the now constant rocking hips, still searching for more.
Turning his wrist, Blaine felt in and up..up…Kurt arched off the bed, nearly shouting at Blaine brushed over the spot lightly, then again, Kurt clamping hard around him. A hand in his hair and gripping his bicep yanked him up, Kurt's mouth meeting his briefly, tongues ferociously dueling.
Kurt won, fucking into Blaine's mouth. Blaine took it, enjoyed being owned, the lubed hand resting against Kurt stilled as he explored his mouth. Then Kurt's legs were around his, rolling them back over, Kurt covering him, grinding down, and fuck he still had clothes on.
"You're taking too long." Teeth bit at his chest, Kurt worked his way down until his nose brushed against the offending garment. One good yank freed his cock to the cool air of the room. Kurt ducked down and Blaine saw stars, tongue licking broad stripes from base to head, nimbly drawing circles underneath the head. Distantly, Blaine registered the familiar crinkle of foil being torn, Kurt sliding the condom down Blaine's length.
"Fuck that shit is cold." Kurt hadn't bothered to warm up the lube before slathering it on Blaine.
"You'll warm up in a moment." He shuffled forward on his knees, shins brushing Blaine's thighs as he hovered. Blaine watched Kurt reach under him to hold Blaine upright, catching on when Kurt cocked an eyebrow. His hands joined Kurt's, one positioning so Kurt could sink down, the other slowly stroking Kurt's length.
And then Kurt was sinking down. The head slid inside and Blaine saw stars again, a galaxy of fireworks blossoming behind his eyes, too much for him to buck into it.
And then Kurt sank down, taking all of Blaine in one smooth motion.
It might have been a supernova. Kurt was hotwettightsofuckingperfect. Blaine would give up coming if he never had to leave. Kurt's head dropped backwards, rolling on his shoulders as he ground his hips down, fingers teasing himself.
And then he started to move, and all Blaine could do was lay there and let Kurt ride him, moving roughly, hands braced on Blaine's chest, erection bobbing between them.
Minutes that felt both like hours and seconds passed, Kurt's bouncing becoming increasingly erratic, fisting his cock harshly as he teetered on the edge but couldn't push himself over.
"More. I need more." His beautiful face was twisted in near pain as his orgasm eluded him, desperation making his voice crack.
Wordlessly, Blaine obliged, grabbing his hips and rolling them once more. Kurt's ankles hooked at the small of Blaine's back, short nails scraped down Blaine's back, biting down.
"No. More. Need. Fuck. Need more." His eyes were pleading, frantic, lips bitten harshly. Blaine nodded, sweaty curls moving with the motion.
"Uncross your legs." Kurt obeyed, Blaine hooked them over his shoulders and leaned forward, bending Kurt nearly in half. The new angle allowed Blaine to go deeper, brushing Kurt's prostate if he angled his hips just…Kurt clenched around him as Blaine found his mark again and again, breathless moans a constant soundtrack.
Hands pulled at Blaine's face, tugging him down to kiss messily, mouths open and care gone, lips moving and parting until their breath and moans mingled. Kurt closed his eyes, back and neck arching, a whimper escaping when he relaxed, unsatisfied.
Blaine moved his weight to one hand, reaching between them to twist once, twice, and Kurt's scream died on his lips as he came, a vice around Blaine that drew him over the edge.
Everything went white, eyes closed to the pleasure coursing through his body, thrusting erratically into Kurt, somehow remembering to work Kurt through his own orgasm. He let go when the whimper of pleasure under him became one of pained oversensitivity.
Aftershocks shuddered through him as he kneeled up to let Kurt uncurl and remove the condom, tying it off and chucking it where the trash can might be, before falling to the bed, dragging Kurt towards him. He pressed kisses to the damp face, felt Kurt's answering hands running though his hair, rubbing at the scalp as he nuzzled into Blaine's chest.
"You're..you should…sticky."
Kurt blinked sleepily at him. "Don't care. Cuddle with me."
Blaine did as he was told, snuggling in closer to Kurt. "You're gorgeous when you come."
"Shh, Blaine"—Kurt patted his arm—"I've had a long week and a good fuck. I want to nap before round two."
He nodded against Kurt's hair, pressing another kiss to the locks. Curled up close, legs entwined, Blaine let himself bask before drifting off on a white cloud to sleep.