Rating: M

Warnings: Silliness, sexiness, adorableness. And I abuse italics a little.

Spoilers: Probably only OS

Words: 2300

A/N: Umm...this happened. It's not totally fluffy like the last few, it's kind of smutty, which you'll have noticed if you glance at the very first line. But they're still quite adorable, I think. Thanks go to the beta who really does manage to make my writing much better with a few (dozens of) carefully placed punctuation marks and words and whatnot. And polices my run-on sentences and general crazziness. So thanks to Tessa for that.

This is set early on, not long after OS and the relationship is still fresh and new and they're learning. So now you have that to consider in conjunction with the first line I think I'll just let you read it...

Holy crap, Kurt Hummel has just come in his pants and it is all—accidentally—Blaine's fault.

Deep breaths, Blaine, deep breaths.

Correction. Kurt Hummel was still coming in his pants. Right there under Blaine's hips. Shit. Why is time slowing down to a snail's pace? Is he dying? Is this what death felt like? A little death. No, he isn't coming. Kurt is.

Blaine forgets to worry too much as he concentrates on the strain in Kurt's neck, one particular muscle commandeering his attention as the boy under him arches even higher and angles his head harder into the pillows.

"Oh my god, Blaine," it's quiet and breathless and the hottest thing Blaine has ever heard.

Breathe, Blaine, breathe. And probably stop staring. And gaping.

Kurt stills beneath him—no longer stretched out and taut with hips rocking minutely like a second ago—now frozen, mortified. And then lightning sharp movements, scrambling, falling away and putting the length of the bedroom—not enough—between them and at some point throwing Blaine to the floor.

"On my god, Blaine." It's hilariously high pitched and embarrassed except Blaine is only thinking about how Kurt had said it as he came a second ago—low and breathless and so hot as Kurt Hummel had come in his pants, under Blaine's hips and calling his name softly.

"Fuck, Blaine I—" He's blushing deep red and rambling and struggling for words and it would be comedic but it's not because Kurt keeps swearing and saying his name and Kurt doesn't swear and… Oh god he's shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other and it can only be because…

Blaine, still on the floor, presses the heel of his hand hard into the crotch of his pants, bites back a moan and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. Kurt misses all of this because he's turned around and is leaning his head against the door with his eyes closed, still mumbling something along the lines of "sorry" and "it was an accident" and "how pathetic" and "I didn't mean to".

Blaine opens his eyes and just stares at the rumpled cotton covering Kurt's back, the mess of hair that is tangled in such a way that he can tell exactly where his fingers have grasped and the way the bright red blush on Kurt's neck gets even redder behind his ears.

"I usually last a lot longer," Kurt whispers into the wood of the door and that leaves Blaine's mind to fill in the moment's silence with images of Kurt touching himself and exercising control and lasting. And coming. In the shower, at his computer, in his bed—shit—this bed. Blaine's fingers wrap around the sheet beside him and he breathes in, unavoidably, the ubiquitous scent of Kurt. Another press of the heel of his hand into his crotch and that's not nearly enough and it's absolutely too much all at once and goddamnit, the want is now verging on painful! So he sets up a rhythm of pressure and not against where his cock is straining but against far too tight jeans and thank god he's on the floor on the far side of the bed and Kurt's still staring at the door. Because Kurt seeing him this desperate would not be cool.

Why is he even on the floor? Oh yeah, Kurt threw him there in his mad scramble to the door.

"Oh my god, you want to break up with me don't you? It's that pathetic! I'm some sort of freak and now you're going to break up with me!"

Kurt is fully freaking out and really kind of hysterical and rambling but finally has Blaine's attention because are they breaking up? What? No. But damn Blaine's head is feeling fuzzy and whatever this conversation is he is completely not up to having it now. He forces his hand to stop moving because hell he's too close and Kurt is talking about breaking up which means that moaning right now would be so embarrassing.

"Kurt what are you talking about?" He sounds short and angry because he's desperate and it sounds all the harsher for the growling, wrecked quality his voice has taken on.

"I—" a long pause and Kurt turns and motions vaguely with his hands and Blaine knows he would say 'just came ridiculously hard in my pants' if he weren't blushing crimson and Blaine's mind wanders at that, of course, back to what Kurt just did. "And you're just sitting there in shock and I'm humiliated and you don't even care."

Oh, yes. Kurt's hysterical. And Blaine—is hard.

Why on earth is Kurt hysterical and cowering against the door with angry, terrified eyes? And humiliated. Why?

Blaine's thoughts sort themselves out and he mumbles "So fast," and he's sort of whining and now Kurt looks even more upset—anger and humiliation and his eyes flickering to the shelves as if searching for something to throw in Blaine's general direction.

"So, so fast," Blaine repeats and then clarifies, "Not you, you idiot. Me." He rocks himself up and winces at the ache of his body, all hard and taut and wanting and probably bruised from crashing to the floor. He crosses the space between them in a few long strides and pins Kurt to the door with his hips.

Blaine's hands move through Kurt's hair, over his cheeks, across his jaw, anchoring him and trying to keep from blacking out by staring at the play of emotion across his boyfriend's face—from anger to confusion to awe. God, Blaine hopes that it's awe or at least something like it and hopefully it's in response to the press of him, entirely turned on and trembling at the energy required just to hold himself back.

He kisses Kurt hard, like he's never dared to before—open and hot and rough and letting the caress of his tongue mirror exactly what he wants to be doing with his hips but he's not quite that daring yet. Kurt kisses him back—whether it's out of reflex or comprehension is uncertain—and that is way too much for Blaine. It's too hot and desperate because the energy of his anger is still there but somehow transformed almost instantly and oh yes, Kurt comprehends the simplicity of it now and there's no doubting that Blaine wants him.

Blaine breaks the kiss because he feels lightheaded. Kurt takes his own deep breath and Blaine can tell that he's about to start talking again, explaining, another rambling monologue and Blaine whines a little because he doesn't want that and that in itself makes Kurt pause.

"Just—" Blaine swallows because his voice is embarrassingly hoarse. "Just touch me. Please." His last word is whispered with unmistakable desperation.

Kurt's eyes narrow and he hesitates for just a moment, just long enough to reevaluate what's happened in the last ten minutes and what Blaine is asking and feels Blaine crowding him back into the door again with another involuntary rock of his hips. Then Kurt snakes a hand down between them, pressing his mouth back to Blaine's to hide yet another blush as he lets his fingers trail down over Blaine's t-shirt, tracing contours of chest and stomach to the barrier of jeans and wonders whether he should undo them.

Blaine propels himself up on tiptoe in a bid to get more contact and groans into Kurt's mouth. Kurt gets the message, gets that they are so not breaking up and presses his hand across the contours of Blaine's jeans, searching out the telltale ridge with fumbling fingers, then wraps around and squeezes hard.

And Kurt wants more, isn't even that startled to find himself instantly in love with the feel of Blaine's cock under his hand. Squeezes again, as hard as he dare, just how he'd like it and smiles against Blaine's groan and then Blaine pushes him back into the door harder and grasps his hips vice-like and makes a sound low and growling and loud and—

No. Fucking. Way.

He's coming.

Kurt grins like a complete idiot and does his best to squeeze Blaine through his jeans in time with the short sharp thrusts of his hips and watches the shiver that races through him and the way he holds his breath, trying to stay in the moment.

Then it's a loud, gasping inhale and Blaine's eyes open, shining, staring back and Kurt moves his hand away but finds himself at a loss as to what to do with it.

Blaine Anderson just came for him and he barely had to touch him. God knows how either one of them is ever doing to last through a blowjob. Kurt blushes to have thought that.

"What?" Blaine asks still sounding stunningly wrecked as he stumbles backward and drags a hand through his hair and collapses back onto Kurt's bed, the expansion of his chest as he sucks in air transfixing.

Kurt doesn't seem to have heard him so Blaine asks again. "What?"

Kurt shakes his head and a second later his skin has returned to the embarrassed crimson blush that seems to be the theme of the afternoon. Blaine groans and it's more in frustration than anything else. Creeping forward, Kurt does his best to ignore the discomfort in his pants, sits beside Blaine and nudges him over until he has enough space to flop down on his back beside his boyfriend.

He's shocked when Blaine immediately reacts to the warmth of his body, turning on his side and nudging himself under Kurt's arm so that he can snuggle into the space, pressing his lips to the side of his chest and making a contented kind of sound.

Kurt inhales and somehow Blaine can tell the difference between his normal breathing and what comes before a speech and shushes him, the air tickling Kurt's ribs before he gets even a word out.

"I didn't even say anything," Kurt says, indignant.

"But you were going to. You were going to start another freak out and tell me I'm breaking up with you and calling yourself ridiculous things." Blaine moves again, propping his chin up on Kurt's chest so that he can look him in the eye.

Any chance Kurt had of arguing with him dies with the eye contact. God, he really had freaked out. He has the decency to look abashed.

"We can talk about it later but I really hope you don't regret it because I don't." Blaine takes a moment to consider Kurt, to look for anything resembling regret, anything that he should stop and worry about but sees nothing. "That was… hot," he says and he sounds a bit dreamy because he's remembering and snuggling even closer to the warm body that's now mostly beneath his. "And really fast," he half-giggles and Kurt can't tell if he means himself or Kurt or both but this time doesn't blush quite as much.

Blaine moves to straddle him, knees on either side of Kurt's hips and hands beside his head, holding him close but not quite against and Kurt's breath catches as Blaine smiles because it's seductive and sated in an eager kind of way.

Kurt has never even thought to imagine him looking sated.

"Hot and fast," Blaine breathes against his lips, "And you know what I think of that?"

Kurt arches an eyebrow in question.

"I think it's really, really hot because it means you want me that badly." Blaine doesn't even care that that was less eloquent than he would have liked because he thinks he's doing pretty well considering the vast majority of his brain is still shrouded in a post-orgasmic haze.

Kurt considers the sentiment then adds, voice breathless once more, "And that you want me."

"That badly," Blaine adds helpfully. He leans down to kiss Kurt, slow and languid, giving way to something deep and earnest. Pulling back, Blaine also feels the need to point out, "And it just means we'll have to spend a lot of time practicing."

Kurt actually giggles at that. "Practice," he repeats faintly, fondly, staring at Blaine's mouth and leaning up to try to kiss him again.

It doesn't take much convincing and soon Blaine's being dragged down into another long, drawn-out exploration of mouths and tongues and wandering hands. This time when Blaine pulls back it's Kurt's turn to suspect that it's to talk again and he groans across parting lips and watches as Blaine's eyes open and his voice falters.

Then Blaine grins mischievously and asks casually, "You usually last a lot longer?"

Kurt reddens and wonders if blushing this much is good or bad for his skin but with newfound boldness he nods.

Blaine hums and does his best to look like he's considering something. Kurt just rolls his eyes as he waits for whatever is coming. "Let me ask you this then," he finally says and pauses again for dramatic affect, the corner of his mouth twitching into a little smirk, "What's your recovery time like?"

Kurt's blush deepens but he finds himself laughing as he shoves at Blaine hard, toppling him to the side and rolling across him. He is absolutely not going to answer that because that would be admitting to a whole host of sins—sins he kind of wants to tell Blaine all about but that would be letting him win too easily.

Instead Kurt kisses him through the laughter and stretches his body flush against Blaine's and he makes sure to lean in, hips to hips and all contact.

And with that, Blaine has his answer.

Case in point: anyone who does not think these boys are stupidly, adorably in love is wrong. Or I just haven't managed to do them justice in this very silly little fic that I found myself penning. Anyway, it was a change for me with pacing and style and a significant bit sillier than I'm used to, I think, so, as always, I adore reviews whatever you might want to say to me! And to think I was really meant to be writing another science abstract. Oops.