Title: eyes adored you
Inspiration: An experiment in writing something that my little cousins wouldn't be allowed to read. XD
Disclaimer: They're not mine. ^^
Notes: Oh god, I just hope it doesn't suck tremendously. XD Also, the title is from "My Eyes Adored You" by The Four Seasons.
There aren't any candles. No candles, no Barry White, no sheets of silk and no rose petals. It isn't planned out and there aren't squares on calendars circled in red to mark the date. They haven't been waiting for this and they aren't planning for anything. They're just two boys, trading soft touches and hot kisses between breathless whispers in the artificial dusk that they've created, breath and bodies making the short space between their bodies hot and heavy.
But not urgent. There's nothing urgent in the way their finger tips graze from fabric to bare skin. In the way their eyes meet, pupils dilating from dark and desire. In the way Kurt licks his lips a little and Blaine bites his and they both exhale, lungs stuttering on it. Blaine's hand skip and falter over Kurt's sides, numbering his ribs, skimming under the crinkling parting of his Dalton dress shirt. His fingers are too blunt, too rough, too harsh and raw against the perfection of Kurt's skin. He shouldn't be allowed to touch this near-ethereal creature stammering out unholy phrases through bruised lips.
"Blaine. Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. Why are… Why did you stop? That— felt good, Blaine." Kurt's giving full body shakes until he can get some sort of grasp over himself and actually control his limbs. And then he just becomes his own undoing by canting his hips up, up. Up, into Blaine's hips, into heat.
Blaine's eyes flicker like static on a television set and his entire self sort of flinches into non-motion. Because that was hot and hard and, most of all, Kurt pressed up against him. He swears and his hands clench on Kurt's jutting hipbones. He presses back, a little uncertain but mostly desperate. The drag of cheap charcoal material on cheap charcoal material is not close to satisfying enough and the press comes deeper and faster. The breathing between them thickens to something like summer air.
Kurt's hands spasm around Blaine's forearms, fingers tightening around the coils of muscle there. His face is wrecked and he's nothing thinking about it but it's the furthest thing from gas pain that Blaine has ever seen. His face is pure sex: want, desire, need and more. A few more unsteady jerks of his hips but then he's slowing, the hands on Blaine's arms stiffening but deliberately, not from desperation.
"What?" Blaine gasps out in a torn, wet voice. "Sorry, sorry."
"No," Kurt replies on the ends of his own rich breaths. "No, I just…" He licks his lips and tries to think of the words he wants. They're simple words but he finds his vocabulary completely absent at the moment. Well, actions speak louder and all that, right? So Kurt slides to sit up more and moves his hands up, studiously, over Blaine's biceps, shoulders, collarbone and down to wear the first two buttons of his shirt have been undone.
Blaine has a "What—" on the tip of his tongue but it dies a premature death as Kurt beings undoing the remaining buttons. His blown-out pupils are fixed at the task at hand so Blaine can observe him unobserved. He's looking down at his boyfriend, mussed and kissed-red with his shirt falling limp off his shoulders and a raging hard-on pressing against his with dual layers of underwear and Dalton-issue trousers barring direct contact. And if that isn't torture… Kurt's knuckles brush against his crotch as he undoes the bottom buttons. Judging from the chewed-off smile and high blush he knows what he's doing. Blaine shifts his shoulder to help remove the shirt, eyes ever-locked on Kurt's which are never looking at his. "Kurt?" he asks softly, just wanting to see him.
Kurt turns his gaze up then, clear blue eyes touching on his hazel. Despite the situation and the stages of undress, Kurt gives him that adorable, I'm-happy-just-to-be-here-because-it's-with-you smile. Blaine matches it and kisses him lightly, lifting one hand to cup Kurt's jaw. It was meant to be a kiss in passing but then Kurt's fingers are curling low on his back, tugging him further into his lap, closer. Blaine is higher in this position and has to tilt his whole head down to get any sort of proper angle and it's new and a little awkward but mostly just delicious. He's feet seesaw, pressing his toes into the mattress, as he folds himself into Kurt, every part of him dipped toward this boy curling around him.
And then one of Kurt's hands takes a leap of instinct and wedges under, taking a handful of Blaine's ass and claiming it. A strangled sort of sound comes from the back of Blaine's throat but it gets swallowed by Kurt's kiss. His other hand is searching, searching, finding purchase in Blaine's curls, winding through his gel-sticky hair.
They get sloppier; with tongue and teeth. Kurt nicks the inside of Blaine's upper lip with an incisor. After tasting pennies, Kurt mumbles into Blaine's mouth, "You're bleeding." Blaine makes a vaguely affirmative noise, pulls back to tongue at the tender spot before pitching forward into another kiss. Kurt sucks away the copper flavor and slides the hand on Blaine's ass up his bare spine, tracing a shiver. Heaving Blaine closer, he trails his lips over his jaw to the corner of jaw-meets-neck, closing his mouth around the joint there.
Both of Blaine's hands are in Kurt's hair, smoothing and mussing it over and over and he can feel the tension of Kurt's neck when the muscles shift; Kurt pulling back. His fingers tighten for a moment to keep him there but then immediately let up. Slow and careful. They don't want to rush anything and he certainly doesn't want to force anything with Kurt.
But when Kurt pulls back and meets his eyes, he knows stopping is the last thing his boyfriend wants. There's this blissed-out expression on Kurt's face and his lips are parted and puffy and he's got a block of color high on his cheeks. And he looks to Blaine with fever-bright eyes and asks, "Do you… Have you got…a condom?"
Blaine freezes at that because (yes, yes he does, but that's beside the point) they don't even have their pants off yet. He freezes because, sure, they've talked about this but he didn't expect Kurt to be the one to ask for it, and so soon. And, truthfully, he had had a plan. He was going to have the discussion with Kurt and they were going to set a date and there was supposed to be candles and Barry White and silk sheets and rose petals. There was going to be a speech and "I love you"s and whispering fingertips and hesitance and delicate kisses and… Goddamnit, Blaine had been planning on wooing the boy!
But the last time Blaine tried to woo a boy he ended up getting a flat-out rejection and said boy fired. And the last time Blaine just went with what he was feeling, without a plan, he ended up making out with his current boyfriend over a tiny, half-bedazzled coffin. So. Maybe there was something to be said for this whole off-the-cuff way of doing things.
"Yeah," Blaine finally says, the answer coming out on a breath. "Yeah. I… Do you… I mean—" He's cut off by an absolutely searing kiss from Kurt that cuts through his very soul, rendering his mind entirely useless and effectively eliminating any hesitance he had for Kurt's sake. When Kurt pulls back, Blaine trails after his lips, eyes shut. He lets out a long, slow breath and nods once. "Okay," he says shakily. "Okay, yeah." And there's nervousness bubbling in his stomach but it's good-nervous, fueled by lust and want-to-get-this-right.
It's not even five minutes later and they've gotten rid of pants and boxer-briefs and (after an only semi-awkward "Did you want to…? Or should I…?" conversation) Kurt has the condom on and they're pressed up against each other, standing at the foot of the bed. Blaine meant for it to be a brief and reassuring kiss but that proved impossible for the two of them at this stage. Blaine has Kurt's lower lip between both of his, pulling gasps and groans from his boyfriend while one hand trails down the stuttering muscles of his chest and abdomen.
When Kurt's fingertips mirror Blaine's on his abdomen and then lower, his breath hiccups and his eyes squeeze shut. Kurt takes immediate notice and pulls his hand away. "Are you all right?" he asks. When all he receives is a tight nod, he frowns and cups his boyfriend's face. "Hey," he intones softly. "We don't have to do this…"
Blaine shakes his head before letting out the breath. "No, I'm fine. It's just…not how I was expecting this to happen. But it's fine." He opens his eyes to find Kurt giving him an entirely disbelieving look and laughs softly. He brushes his palm over Kurt's cheek then, mirroring their positions again. "I promise. I'm fine. I want to do this." The thumb at Kurt's hip slips lower to stroke center and Kurt chokes on a gasp. "I really want to do this," he adds at the end, with something of a smirk when he sees how Kurt's face is crumpling and murmured curses are falling from his lips.
"I want to see you," Kurt says, finally comprehensible. "I want to be able to see you during. Can we do that?"
Blaine leans in and presses his cheek to Kurt's, nosing into his jaw. "Of course we can. Ready now?"
And Kurt nods and they get onto the bed, Blaine on his back and Kurt, hesitant but steady, on his knees between Blaine's legs. There's logistics to figure out. Logistics and lube and preparation. It breaks down, for Blaine, to just Kurt being inside him and pressing and gasping and at first it's just his fingers unwinding him interval by interval but then it's Kurt and it's a press and a burn and there's pain, quite a bit of it. And fumbling and quaking tremors running through limbs. But then… but then there's a click. Things fall into sync and their hips cant together and Kurt's hand are twitching at his shoulders.
Without meaning to, they both open their eyes. Blaine is breathing strictly through his mouth and Kurt only through his nose and they lock hazy eyes and that does it for Blaine. He cries out, fingers spasming over rumpled sheets. And then that does it for Kurt and he gives a full-body shudder and then stiffens over Blaine.
Kurt wobbles a moment as Blaine does nothing but breathe on his back, all other functioning too complicated for him. The Kurt pulls out from Blaine and he winces at the sensation and the loss. Because physics may dictate that two beings can never occupy the same space but, if it weren't so corny, Blaine would say that he and Kurt were certainly one being a moment ago.
Kurt does…something with the condom and something else that he can only assume is cleaning up (Blaine can't be bothered to pay attention. Or open his eyes.) before collapsing alongside him. He hums in a contended way, nuzzling against Blaine's shoulder. The atmosphere around them is golden and glowy and Blaine should care that he's sweat-sticky but he just doesn't. His stomach has gone to his head and his head has just plain gone and everything is sort of wonderful, especially when Kurt's fingers (Kurt's fingers that had been inside him) make a brush through his damp curls, grazing his scalp pleasantly.
"Hi," Kurt whispers into his hair, winding an arm around Blaine's waist and edging closer.
Blaine presses as close as he can to Kurt's front and makes a happy, sleepy noise. "Hi," he repeats. And, "I love you."
"I love you back," Kurt replies, kissing the tip of his ear because it's the closest he can reach without moving. Not moving seems ideal at this moment. "You feel okay then?"
Blaine nods and covers Kurt's hand with his own, stroking at his fingers. "Better than okay."
Kurt laughs breathlessly. "Me too. Sleep?"
"Sleep," Blaine agrees.
And with Kurt breathing half a second before Blaine does but their hearts beating together and Kurt's eyelashes fluttering along Blaine's dark curls and their sticky, sweaty bodies plastered together, they fall asleep.
AN: Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think, please. ^^