A/N: LOLOLOL THIS CHAPTER IS SOLID SMUT. ENJOY. 8D

Chapter 8.

Dave seals the promise behind his words with a kiss as soon as Kurt speaks the magic words (have me, which sounds like take me, which Dave knows means be mine). The kiss is fleeting, but in its brief moment of contact, there is everything permanent in that kiss; it's like putting on a top coat on one's nails, or like putting an airtight lid on a container, or like screwing the last bolt on a car engine. It's the final touch, the one thing that let's both of them know: I'm not letting go of you so easily.

They adjust their position on Kurt's bed (and he's distantly thinking about how his sheets needed to be washed soon anyway, so it's perfectly fine if they get soiled) to lie lengthwise on it comfortably.

"Your clothes are in the way," Dave's voice rumbles lowly, and it sends a tantalizing shiver down Kurt's spine. "Take. Them. Off."

And while Dave is a tad too demanding for Kurt's liking, the soprano happily complies anyhow, shrugging off the sleeves of his open shirt and allowing Dave to help him slip off his pajama bottoms and with them, his underwear.

"Boxers or briefs?" Dave chuckles to himself, his hand tossing the clothes away. His hand trails back up one of Kurt's legs, rubbing over the skin of Kurt's milky calf before running over the top of his thigh, pausing halfway to tickle the underside of his knee. "God, Kurt. How come your legs are perfectly glabrous?"

Kurt cracks a smile. Glabrous. 'To be hairless or smooth.' "I'm… impressed you know that word."

Dave shrugs, his hand continuing its journey across the expanse of Kurt's skin, sliding over his hips and stroking a thumb down his inner thigh before the palm of his hand smoothes over Kurt's inner hip and across his lower belly, just barely missing his erection. Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and arches his back, because that just feels so –

Kurt's breathing picks back up into a pant, and while he's annoyed that he's clearly visible in the lamplight and he flushes at how exposed he is, he somehow doesn't mind it as much as he thought he would. Before, having Karofsky see and touch him like this would have been a revolting concept. But in this moment, all Kurt can think about is how he wouldn't have it any other way, and how he only wants Dave to ever see or touch him this way.

"Stop… staring at me, Dave," Kurt pants, his eyes opening again as he glances down at the young man examining his body.

"Sorry," the jock murmurs, his eyes flickering upward to gaze into Kurt's own. "I just… I've never seen something so damn stunning. You're… and I don't mean to make you feel like a girl, Kurt, but… you're beautiful."

Kurt tenses, his breath hitching, because he never expected to hear such a thing some someone, let alone something so heartfelt fall from Dave's lips. The taller boy grins deviously suddenly, and he leans upward to attack Kurt's neck with his mouth while that wandering hand decides to none-too-subtly grip Kurt's hard member.

The soprano gasps at both sensations, his back arcing like a small rainbow off of the bed, pressing as close as possible up into Dave's warm, solid chest. "D-Dave," he shudders, his eyes closing again, and he can't stop his hips from rolling in time with the swirling, stroking motions of the hockey player's hand. "Hah, hah… that feels… my Godga… so good, s-so… Ah!"

And that's good, because Dave wants to make Kurt feel that way. He wants Kurt to be happy with him, to be pleased by him, because this is like all of Dave's fantasies and secret wishes coming true all in one night. It's hard to imagine that things were completely one-eightied between them not even a week ago, not even a month ago, not even a year ago. To think that they'd be together like this… If someone would have told Dave he'd be giving a handjob to another guy, specifically Hummel, in college, he would have socked that person one in the jaw for accusing him of being gay and he would have been crushed inside because he would have known Kurt would never let him.

But here he is, here they are, and Dave is trying to savor every millisecond of it; every breath, every noise, every reaction and every inch and aspect that makes Kurt Kurt.

Dave doesn't know why, but it's oddly addicting to grapple with the throbbing organ in his hand. It's slick with pre-come and heated and tender in that firm manner. He isn't quite sure what he's doing outside of his masturbation experiences, so he's trying to recreate his best moments with himself on his lover below him. He rubs along the shaft and gently squeezes the head, his fingers brushing the slit and tunneling back down to the hilt. He must be doing something right, though, even as his uneven fingernails occasionally streak coldly across skin or the rough pads of his palm pump a little too quickly, because with all that, Kurt bursts, and Dave's never seen someone react so violently to being pleasured before.

Kurt throws his arm over his eyes while the back of his free hand flies to his mouth. He bites down on his own hand, hard enough to probably leave a temporary red mark on his tender skin. And Dave is trying to hard to capture all of Kurt's rippling reactions, from the way his cheeks flush and the way he hides himself to the way his stomach clenches and his length twitches in Dave's hand.

Idly, Dave muses how Bunny-Hops fell to the floor long before this started, the poor remnant of childhood and all of its innocence just as lost and forgotten and obsolete as the last bit of himself Kurt saved up until this moment.

When Kurt's done, his body spasming with a final shiver, the hockey jock leans upward and kisses the breathless boy, his dirtied hand wiping somewhere on his pants so that he can bring it up over Kurt's chest, feeling his heart rate attempt to return to normal.

Kurt peels his forearm from his eyes and peeks out from it like the visor of a hat as his gaze locks with his roommate's. "Your turn, I'm assuming?"

Dave blushes the tiniest bit. "You don't have to."

"I want to," Kurt assures, and he sits up, gently pushing Dave backward to sit in front of him. Kurt smiles thoughtlessly as he touches Dave's pants. "Still wearing these?" he questions. "Remove them. Now."

And the jock doesn't want to admit how sexy it is that Kurt can order him around as well.

But Dave hesitates. He's not nearly as lovely underneath his clothes as Kurt is. He hates it enough that he's shirtless and Kurt can see how disgusting he is with the fuzz between his pecs and the lack of defined muscles on his stomach, but to remove his pants…? To show Kurt his hairy legs and –

"Dave," Kurt murmurs, forcing the other college freshman out of his thoughts. "Come on. Don't make me self-conscious here; I want to see you, too."

Dave nibbles his lip. An idea occurs to him. He slowly, carefully, stands from the bed and clicks off the lamp, shielding himself in sudden blackness while he drops his sleep pants and boxers.

"Dave! Why'd you do that?" Kurt breathily laughs at Dave's sort of cute embarrassment and utter nonsense. He reaches over to the lamp on his knees, leaning forward to switch the light back on. When he turns back to look Dave in the eye, he realizes two things: one, that Dave is staring (but adverts his eyes when he's caught) at Kurt's bare butt, and two, that Dave really shouldn't hide himself.

Smiling, Kurt knee-walks across the bed to where Dave is leaning against it with one knee on the edge of the mattress. He's looking down at himself, clearly not thinking anything positive.

Kurt approaches him and wraps his arms around his roommate's midsection. He then presses his lips to the divot at the base of the space between Dave's pectorals. He can feel Dave's diaphragm shudder as Dave takes in a deep, nervous breath. "Kurt…"

"Don't be so insecure of yourself," Kurt murmurs with a buzz of moving lips against the skin of Dave's abdomen. He can feel goosebumps rise under his delicate fingers. "I think you're really handsome."

"Am not," Dave grumbles as his hands graze Kurt's trapezius and scale the length of his back to grab his ass. He tugs Kurt upward until their noses bump. Before he gives the shorter boy another kiss, he murmurs, "I'm bulky and no matter how much weight I tried to lose, I'm still stocky. But whatever. I guess my opinion can't outweigh yours, since you're so fuckin' confident of your opinion all the time."

"Damn right I am," Kurt grins, his lips going lax as he leans against the larger male and presses his mouth to the other's. "So don't even try to argue. I like you just the way you are."

"If you start singing Bruno Mars, Hummel, I won't talk to you for a week," Dave smirks, and his hands move up from Kurt's rear to massage his back and hips. Kurt bucks forward, and finally brings Dave on top of him again as he falls backward onto the mattress. It makes a protesting squelch of springs, and with the sound, Dave winces. "You don't think anyone will hear us, do you?"

"It's just after five in the morning. Some people have classes to get to by seven. I don't think anyone cares what they hear," Kurt snorts flippantly. "Now stop talking and roll over, David."

A jolt of more arousal (as if that's even possible, but apparently it is) runs straight through Dave's body as he reverses their positions, Kurt now kneeling between Dave's legs, and he can honestly say he's a little thrilled and terrified as Kurt starts kissing and licking down his upper body. He moans softly, his hands gripping Kurt's hips as the soprano purposely presses his re-awakened length to Dave's during the process of the foreplay of his tongue.

"K-Kurt," he gasps, because he realizes that the boy's travels downward aren't ceasing anytime soon. "You're not planning to… to… Nnguh – Ahh -!" And he cries out gruffly, only barely catching it in time with his hand to his mouth. Kurt's mouth found a sensitive area just to the left of Dave's treasure trail, and right along his pelvic bone. His hands are gripping the outsides of Dave's thighs, and it's all Dave can do to look away at the erotic sight of Kurt's nose skimming pubic hair before his mouth engulfs one of the sacs of tender flesh beneath Dave's member.

The singer's eyelashes flutter, and he glances upward with a light glisten of spit on his bottom lip. "It's alright," he murmurs. "It's not an obligation so much as it's an odd craving," and the mischievous smile that takes over his lips as he says this is both so bizarrely Kurt-esque and so unnaturally not-Kurt that it makes Dave's heart leap in his throat. To think Kurt's bravado from high school when his barriers weren't broken down could escalate into this… and to think that, at the same time, he has an air of bashfulness about him.

And Dave's honestly never ached so fiercely for someone in his entire life. God, does he love this boy. Love is the only thing he can possibly describe what Dave is feeling building up behind all of the hormones in his system.

Dave bites back another cry as his hands zoom up into Kurt's messy hair when the boy's lips camp down around the head of his member. He groans in the back of his throat, his toes curling, not at all expected half of the things Kurt starts to do with his tongue up, down, and around Dave's length. He gasps, a partial-choked sound emitting from his lips as Kurt takes half of Dave into his mouth. He starts bobbing his head up and down, and Dave has to close his eyes and look away out of discomfiture and gratification.

"Kurt…" he moans when the singer suckles at the tip, and Dave's mind flashes white and blank like a fresh sheet of snow as he suddenly comes, part of his seed dripping from Kurt's lips and the rest dribbling down onto Kurt's hand around the base.

Cleaning himself by timidly tasting and finally licking away the substance on his hand, Kurt leans upward and folds his arms atop his lover's chest, settling his slim body between Dave's legs as he places his chin on top of his arms. "Hey."

Dave opens his eyes slowly, and then tilts his face downward to look Kurt in the eye. He smiles lazily. "Hey." A frown breezes across his brow. "You're still hard."

"And this matters because…?" Kurt drawls, his eyes slipping shut tiredly.

Dave shrugs. He wraps his arms around Kurt's body and kisses at the forearms in front of him. "Well, I don't want you to feel neglected."

"I'll live," Kurt muses, and slinks his body up enough to plant an unfittingly chaste kiss on Dave's lips, leisure and sweet. "Hey," he says again.

Dave quirks an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"I love you," Kurt murmurs, and proceeds to snuggle down against Dave's body, his arms rubbing across the jock's chest and along his sides until his hands are fisting the sheets. He lays his head in the crook of Dave's neck and inhales his scent. "But you wear me out. I don't think I'm attending my morning classes today."

"Mmm, yeah," the other concurs mildly. He closes his eyes as well, feeling completely as ease. "I don't think I will, either." His hands comb through Kurt's hair gently and softly caress his back. He glances down, smiling, but he freezes when he spies the beginnings of bruises on Kurt's hips. He bolts upright, bringing Kurt with him. "Did I do this?"

Kurt glances at himself as if he can't feel the soreness on his sides. "Oh. I guess you must have at some point. But it's okay," Kurt shrugs. "I didn't even notice until you said something."

"But… Kurt, I hurt you –"

Kurt shakes his head and forces Dave to lie back down; a finger on the hockey player's lips while his other hands pushes him. "Please, Karofsky. You've done so much worse. Shush up. It's nothing, just all part of the throes of passion. I don't mind, honest. A hickey would have been worse; I would have had to wear a scarf for a week had you done that instead," and he smiles.

But Dave doesn't look convinced. "I shouldn't be still hurting you," he whispers.

Kurt sighs and rests himself on Dave again. "Don't worrying about it. So you're a little stronger than you thought; it's no big deal. I just bruise easily." And he shuts his eyes once more. "Now go to sleep, Dave. We have to at least make it to our afternoon and evening classes."

Dave blows air out his mouth and rakes a hand over his scalp before returning it around Kurt. The boy shivers even in the nice temperature of the room, so the jock brings up a throw blanket shoved in the corner by the wall that's thankfully not soiled with semen. He wraps Kurt up in it and kisses him softly on the forehead. "I love you, too," he breathes, but Kurt is already sleeping.