A/N: So basically, this is how I want an episode to start sometime this season. I tried to phrase it like quick camera shots would be, hopefully that comes across as you read it. If it actually happens, I think it will be epic. And hot.
I've got a ton of little Klaine drabbles that are floating around my hard drive. What should I call the compilation of them? Some are half-formed, or are parts of larger stories I'll probably never write, and there's really no correlation between any of them. But it's probably not worth it to post each one on it's own. Shoot any ideas you have my way :)
A slight gasp, a breathy voice. "Blaine."
Lips collide, hands roam. A button-down shirt lands on a chair.
"Blaine, we should stop."
Hazel eyes flash dangerously. "Too long."
"Someone could come home."
A striped tie hangs from the ceiling fan.
Full lips whisper, "You are absolutely right."
Finn comes home early on Friday afternoon and sees Kurt's baby in the driveway. It's surprising that Kurt managed to beat his step-brother home, since Dalton is a two-hour drive from their home in Lima, but perhaps the Warblers weren't practicing after school anymore since losing at Regionals.
A high-pitch noise, somehow still purely masculine, permeates the air. "Blaine, wh-what are you doing?"
"Loving your skin," is the ragged reply. Lips trail roughly up a trembling torso as hips thrust and chests heave.
"I thought we were gonna stop?"
"It was suggested."
"Yeah, that was a stupid idea. Sorry."
When Finn walks in, he notices both pairs of Kurt's shiny school-issued dress shoes sitting on the mat just inside the door, and finds too that two of his blazers are hung in the closet when he and Puck go to hang up their own coats.
A dark, dangerous chuckle.
"Kurt, why are you taking my pants off?"
"I need you naked."
"Weird," Finn says to Puck, who is following him into the house for a massive Halo III marathon. "Kurt's usually so picky about only having one out at a time."
A terrified gasp. "Did you hear that?"
"No." A second white shirt lands on the floor, quickly followed by a second tie.
"I think someone's home."
"You always think someone's home."
Lips crush a protest, turning it into a moan.
Finn shrugs. "Says it keeps his laundry rotation in order."
A frustrated groan.
A white undershirt lands squarely in the laundry hamper.
Bed springs creak.
They trail upstairs to Finn's room, passing Kurt's closed door on the way. Finn knocks on his way past, by way of announcing his presence, and hears a loud thunk.
He turns to Puck in confusion.
"I'm telling you, there's someone here!"
"Then be quieter."
Teeth bite at pale, flesh that gives easily beneath the onslaught.
"Blaine, it's been forever, I know, but I really think there's—"
A knock at the door.
Finn cracks the door enough to see Kurt, sitting up in bed, shirtless. He's grateful to note that his Dalton slacks are still on and buttoned, though.
"Oh, sorry dude," he says hurriedly. "I just thought I heard—anyway, Puck's here, we'll be in my room on the Xbox."
"Oh. Okay, sounds good."
"Are—are you okay?" Finn asks. "You look really flushed. Do you have a fever?"
"No," Kurt squeaks, then clears his throat. "No, I'm perfectly fine."
"Okay." Finn looks relieved. "Good. It's your night to make dinner."
"I won't forget, Finn."
Blaine peeks up from the other side of the bed, clad only in his boxers and undershirt.
"That's my cue to leave, I take it?" he says quietly.
"Yeah," Kurt says, so embarrassed he is barely able to look at his own boyfriend. "Yeah, that'd be good."
Finn stands outside his step-brother's bedroom, eyes wide, trying to pretend he didn't see the leg of gray dress slacks hanging off the side of Kurt's bed.