Chapter 2: The Best Laid Plans
What a tremendous waste of time. Kurt shut down his computer in frustration. After thinking about it all day at work, he'd decided to try some research, and a fruitless hour later, he was still hopelessly stumped. The internet had failed him, yielding nothing but porn and clinical advice. Apply gentle pressure to your partner's perineum. "What the heck is a perineum?" he'd asked the cold black and white print on the screen, which led to tangent research, as pointless as it was embarrassing. Still, he might be able to do something with that knowledge in the distant future. Like on his honeymoon. Or in the shower. Time to get ready!
An hour later he was drying himself and slowly pulling on his clothes with a dazed expression. Perhaps he'd been a bit hasty in disregarding research. But really, how was he going to proceed on his date? He might have to depend on his own ideas, and those were thin on the ground. The fashion magazine he'd just bought provided nothing better than 'Ten Tips for Reigniting the Bedroom Fire.' Hmph. Useless. There'd been no fires yet. No bedrooms, for that matter. There should be books for people like him.
~Everything You Ever Needed to Know About Making Out with Your Gay Teen Boyfriend
~Beginner's Guide to Romance: You Don't Have To Take Your Clothes Off
~Second Base? Third Base? Where Are They and How Do I Get There?
The closer it got to 7:30, the harder it was to stop smiling. Kurt would consciously smooth out his features – because 'Hello! Crow's feet!' – then catch himself five minutes later with another huge grin on his face. Blaine was going to give him premature wrinkles. And he was so worth it.
He checked his reflection again nervously, turning to look over his shoulder. Blaine hadn't seen his white jeans yet, and the shirt was new, one they'd picked out together. The problem, as Kurt saw it, was that he wasn't wearing a tie or clip, so his collar was wide open and, even worse, he wore no vest or undershirt. He was almost naked under his clothes!
There were at least two inches of bare skin on display below the hollow of his throat. No layers. What was he thinking? He might as well give Blaine a written invitation.
The sound of a car in the driveway pushed all other thoughts out of his head and he dashed around the room, jumping into his shoes, snatching up his keys, phone and lip balm – the necessities – then bolted for the hall, hurtling through the house. He called a hasty farewell to his aunt and skidded to a halt in front of the door, smoothing his windblown hair before stepping calmly outside.
xxxxxXxxxxx
Blaine slowed after the final turn. It wouldn't do to have Kurt's aunt think he drove like a maniac and pass that tidbit to Kurt's father. He parked with care in the driveway and wiped damp palms on his jeans. But before he could get out of the car, his phone beeped. He checked it, thinking it might be Kurt, to say he wasn't ready.
He chuckled when he saw the message was from David. His friend had taken it upon himself to provide 'helpful' lines for wooing Kurt – texts that were always guaranteed to be two things: inappropriate and in rhyme. The current questionable gem was, 'Your eyes are like azure. It's true, please don't thank me. Just tear off my clothes, bend me over and spank me.'
Blaine smiled in spite of himself before deleting the message. David's help might not be helpful, but it amused. On the other hand, the azure comment wasn't bad.
As he opened the car door, Blaine saw Kurt come out of the house and stopped to look, savoring the first sight of him after two long days without. Kurt traipsed lightly down the steps and Blaine relaxed back into the driver's seat. For some unknown reason, when he was around Kurt he often managed to trip over his own feet, but he didn't resent his boyfriend's poise. He was too busy enjoying the view for piddly things like envy. And it was a view that only got better when Kurt stopped halfway to the car to fling his arms up, ta-da style. He was wearing the new shirt they'd picked out together; a vibrant aqua color that brought out his eyes. Blaine loved him in that color. And every other color.
Blaine was grinning enthusiastically at Kurt. Until he began to turn.
Of course, he was meant to be admiring the shirt. Kurt would be scandalized if he knew otherwise. But what Blaine saw were hips and thighs and everything in that vicinity, all pure white like a vanilla sundae. Shapely bits were cradled in lickable ice cream denim. Blaine's sharp inhale set off a violent coughing fit that made Kurt halt mid-twirl and run to the car, where he quickly hopped into the passenger side and rubbed sympathetic circles on Blaine's back.
After a little more hacking, Blaine could breathe again and brought Kurt's concerned face into watery focus.
"Are you okay?"
"I swallowed my gum," he rasped.
"I'm sorry." Kurt's sad, guilt-ridden face drew a chuckle from Blaine, sore throat and all.
"Note to self." Blaine shook his head. "Spit out my gum before I get to Kurt's house." He was rewarded with a hesitant smile before Kurt's glance flicked to his mouth and Blaine knew he must have imagined the darkening of his eyes. Wishful thinking plays havoc with the imagination.
"I missed you," Kurt said breathily, just before Blaine's lips were claimed and rational thoughts about his overactive imagination, as well as irrational thoughts about edible jeans, went by the wayside. Meanwhile, Kurt was in raptures. It had been days since their last kiss. Much, much too long. And from the urgent thrust of a tongue into his mouth, he'd say his boyfriend agreed.
But when Kurt eventually let him come up for air, Blaine's peripheral vision caught a flash of white and he remembered. "Kurt. Those pants." He loved vanilla.
"Oh, do you like them? They go with almost anything." Kurt gave him a conspiratorial, borderline-evil grin. "Wait until after Labor Day. That's when I break out my black jeans."
Blaine very nearly whimpered. "I wanna see the black jeans." Licorice denim. He could learn to love licorice.
"You can see anything you want." Kurt's voice was like a caress, and Blaine was grateful he had nothing left to choke on. He was positive Kurt had no idea how his innocent words could be misconstrued. Blaine kissed him again, deeply, to impress upon him that statements like that could have consequences.
xxxxxXxxxxx
"We should go," Kurt murmured, even as his hands cupped his boyfriend's face and fingers slid into his hair. Thick eyelashes fluttered and heavy-lidded hazel eyes cracked open. "Blaine," Kurt whispered, and his lips curled when those remarkable eyes drifted closed again. "Bla-aine," he quietly crooned.
"Hmm?" Blaine could see better when he opened his eyes again. Well enough to lean in for another taste, and that's what mattered, really.
"Blaine." It came out more like a moan that time.
"Mmm," Blaine replied, because listening was important, and he wouldn't want Kurt to think he wasn't listening while his lips confirmed that the line of his boyfriend's jaw did in fact lead conveniently to his earlobe. It was good information to have.
Kurt's head tilted a little. "We're still in the driveway," he reminded, although his concern over that fact was dwindling in direct relation to the amount of contact between Blaine's mouth and his skin. Which was why he frowned unhappily when the contact abruptly ended.
The words had crept along the edge of Blaine's consciousness until they made their way far enough into his fuzzy mind for true comprehension. Then Blaine jerked back and his eyes snapped to the house. No curtains appeared to be pulled aside for voyeuristic relatives, and the fading of twilight into dusk might have provided a tiny bit of privacy, but he'd definitely been trying to eat Kurt's face in a semi-public place. So much for getting on the aunt's good side. Instead of maniac driver, she could now inform Kurt's dad that he was dating a sex maniac. Blaine groaned and looked around. His door was still open, of course, because things obviously weren't bad enough already. They might as well attract as much attention as possible and put on a good show for neighbors and passersby.
A delicious, moist warmth alerted him to the fact that Kurt had followed his retreat and was now learning that Blaine's jaw, much like Kurt's, happened to be a direct line to his ear. He was a quick study. "Kurt," he choked in aroused panic and placed both palms on his shoulders to push him gently away. "We should go somewhere more..."
"Private?" Kurt didn't even try to conceal the hopeful note in his question.
"Yes. Private." Blaine belatedly pulled his door closed and started the car, without looking at the bundle of distraction next to him.
"Somewhere close by?" Kurt's fingertips walked up Blaine's arm.
Blaine swallowed and nodded, trying to think unsexy thoughts so he could drive them somewhere private and close. The closer, the better.
xxxxxXxxxxx
Kurt struggled to quiet his moans. They were parked somewhere. He didn't know where, because he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything but Blaine. Darkness had fallen. The sunset had probably been lovely. He didn't care.
As usual, they were in the front seats, kissing over the console. Even that much didn't happen often, with Kurt working days and Blaine nights, so it was important not to waste these opportunities. But kissing wasn't a waste. It was the goal. One they never failed to achieve. However, after the previous night's exploits, Kurt's newly awakened libido was busy setting additional goals. Unfamiliar signals were being transmitted throughout his body, and his hands on his boyfriend's back wanted to go exploring. Wanted to tug the shirt from his pants and make contact with warm skin. His own choice of outfit seemed like a good idea again, too. It would be a simple matter for Blaine to flick open a button or two and slide a hand over his collarbone.
In fact, Kurt had to wonder why that hadn't already happened. His carefully, if hastily, constructed plan to find out if his boyfriend wanted to touch him wasn't working as it should. Maybe Blaine had missed the signals? But they were so obvious. No bow tie. No undershirt. For once, he wasn't buttoned up like Fort Knox. Naked throat on display!
Maybe chest-touching wasn't something Blaine was interested in. Unfortunately, that would put Kurt back at square one with the question of what he might like. It was also more disappointing than he'd care to admit. Now that he'd had time to adjust to the idea, it wasn't quite so terrifying to think of Blaine's hands on him.
Kurt would give him another chance. Nudge him carefully with an even more glaring hint. He made a brazen decision, his cheeks flaming red, which Blaine missed because his eyes were closed while he feasted on Kurt's mouth. He didn't really notice when Kurt's hand slid slowly up his back to his shoulder before disappearing altogether. It soon returned, tenderly stroking down his neck to rub over his collarbone through his shirt.
One of Blaine's hands left his boyfriend's thick, soft hair to touch his neck, instinctively mimicking the activities taking place on his own body. His fingers slipped easily beneath the loose collar, kneading tight muscles at the crook of Kurt's shoulder. He was dimly aware something was different, but before he could drag himself into full consciousness, Kurt moaned into his mouth and he was gone again.
xxxxxXxxxxx
Being with Blaine warmed Kurt's heart, always, but now there was also a sharp spike of need – an intro to those raging hormones he'd heard so much about. Unfortunately, Kurt had no experience with such primal cravings, and no control over them. He wasn't fully aware that he'd brought a leg up under him, or that he was leaning halfway into the driver's side to devour Blaine's mouth while his body tried to get closer, seeking contact. Any contact.
It was too much for Blaine. He was gasping for air when Kurt broke away from his lips to taste his throat with hot, open-mouthed kisses. The ache he always felt was downright painful this time. Strong enough to bring him crashing back to reality, where he suddenly realized that his back was pressing hard into the driver's seat, so his hips could try to rise into the air while his hands gripped the front of Kurt's shirt. At some point, he must have tried to pull Kurt bodily into his lap. He panicked and yanked his boyfriend closer in a knee-jerk reaction. But he didn't register Kurt's appreciative sound before heaving him back to his own side of the car, as if that might undo what he'd done.
He bent forward until his forehead hit the steering wheel and gripped it in white-knuckled fists to stop himself from doing anything to ease his problem. He'd been in such a hurry to see Kurt that he hadn't taken time for his standard pre-date precautions, and now he was paying for it. Twice last night after their phone call and once this morning in the shower wasn't good enough. He clenched his teeth, wishing for a bucket of ice to dump on his crotch.
Kurt tried to make sense of his surroundings once he could open his lead-weighted eyes. One moment he'd been happily attached to his boyfriend's face, and the next, Blaine was two feet away banging his head on the steering wheel. The last thing Kurt remembered was the frustration of obstacles between them, and wanting to be closer. And then – he frowned – had Blaine pushed him away?
The upside of a self-inflicted headache, Blaine thought, would be a lessening of other aches. He collided with the steering wheel again and winced, rubbing his forehead. But at that moment, the headache was preferable.
"Blaine?"
"Yeah?" Blaine didn't look at him. His headache wasn't so bad that he was ready to face Kurt. He needed another minute. Or five.
Certain now that Blaine had shoved him, Kurt stared in confusion, squirming uncomfortably in his tight jeans. "I was– I thought we–" he stumbled, trying to figure out how to ask. "What happened?"
No bucket of ice had shown itself, and knuckles whitened on the wheel again. Of course Kurt didn't know why he'd stopped. He probably had no idea what effect he had on Blaine. "I'm sorry."
Kurt became even more confused. "You're sorry? For what?" They'd been doing so well. His first guess had been tentatively confirmed when Blaine's hand slipped into his shirt, and he'd thought if he paid close attention, Blaine might do something to give him a clue what else he liked. Maybe Blaine was sorry for stopping? Kurt reached out to place a comforting hand on his back, letting his boyfriend know it was okay if he wasn't ready to go further.
Sorry for what? Where do I begin, Blaine asked himself. He must have been really far gone if he'd tried to haul Kurt into his lap and couldn't even remember doing it. He should be apologizing for turning into an animal. He might also have been on the verge of coming in his pants. That alone probably would have been enough to make Kurt run, screaming. Thankfully, he'd come to his senses in time, so his boyfriend was, hopefully, unaware of that near disaster. But then he'd topped off the evening by throwing his boyfriend across the car. Blaine decided another head/steering wheel collision was in order.
"Blaine! Please stop. It's okay. I'm sorry." Kurt rubbed Blaine's back and pulled him into a hug to save his poor abused forehead. "Everything's fine. We were only kissing." Which was mostly true, if you didn't count a little shoulder fondling. "You know how much I like it when you kiss me." Blaine's arms wrapped around him, and Kurt's cheek rubbed gently against his hair. "You're the best boyfriend in the world." Kurt's voice was quiet; comforting. "You don't know how happy I've been since I met you."
"You make me happy too." Blaine squeezed him and sat back to make his apologies. Then he looked down and his eyes bugged out. He was horrified to see Kurt's shirt gaping open. Well, not so much horrified as turned on. If only he could have a little taste. No! Nonono! Blaine's head dropped into his hands. He really was an animal.
TBC
A/N: This chapter was a study in writer's block. Unlike the next, which practically wrote itself. Welcome back David!