Title: Can you feel the lightning?

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: language, sexual content, M/M, angst

Summary: Klaine is home alone when they decide to take the final step in their relationship. A summer storm decides whether they will regret it or not. Oneshot.

(Insert disclaimer here)

Word Count: 3,129 words

A/N: First lemon. Do not flame me for any and all mistakes, simply review and I will correct them. I am not a first person resource: I am a virgin, and a female. I blame the Klaine fandom for this oneshot. Enjoy :)

Kurt leaned against his older, but slightly shorter boyfriend in agitation. His whole body was tense, and his mind was on the verge of collapse. A single brush of Blaine's hand reaching up to rub behind his ear set a thousand nerves on fire. When he pulled away, a cold, stimulated feeling was all that remained. He felt the hot rush of chagrin burn through his cheeks. Kurt buried his reddened face in the crook of Blaine's shoulder, willing his blush not to be seen.

The storm outside was raging, and the power across Lima, Ohio flickered on and off continuously. Blaine and Kurt were resting peacefully on Kurt's bed. There wasn't a movie on, or any music (an abnormality). They hadn't said a word in several long minutes. Kurt breathed silently in and out through his nostrils, the cool air a sharp contrast to the July heat. The power flickered off again, and they were shrouded in darkness.

The cruel silence dragged on, torturing both boys. Neither had made a sudden movement towards the other. Blaine's thoughts were racing; both felt that something was looming.

Kurt broke their vigil. "What are we?" he asked. The soloist looked confused.

"What do you mean?" his triangle eyebrows furrowed. Kurt almost cracked a smile at that, and he would have, if the situation hadn't have been so uncharacteristically somber. He put his hand on Blaine's (A/N: Not even close! Nice try :)) shoulder. Blaine inwardly shuddered.

"Where are we? Are we there yet?" Blaine looked into the countertenor's eyes; Kurt's gaze was searching and calculating. He knew exactly what the younger boy was asking. Are we ready to go further? Blaine smiled. It was astounding to others how they communicated mentally. He grasped one of Kurt's wrists and put it on his chest, to feel the heartbeat. The porcelain skinned boy's eyes widened.

"Can I kiss you?" Kurt asked nervously, his hand sliding up to Blaine's cheek. Blaine nodded softly, and leant in, but stopped a few horrible millimeters short of his destination. Kurt was so anxious for that taste, even if he'd experienced it a million times before. Kurt closed the distance, pressing gently against his boyfriend's lips. Their mouths molded together perfectly, both eager for the upper hand. His hand drifted upward to tangle itself in Blaine's soft curls. Kurt opened his mouth slightly, and licked against the soloist's bottom lip, requesting entry.

Blaine shuddered, but obliged. He opened his mouth and tongues collided awkwardly. Kurt almost forgot to breath. He shifted his body, and pressed his chest against the shorter boy's. He felt very much in control, and enjoyed it. And judging by the urgency of Blaine's kissing, he was enjoying it too. Kurt's lips were swollen and red.

Confidence strengthened, Kurt slid one hand down, and rubbed on the thin stretch of skin visible between the Warbler's trousers and coat. Blaine let out a soft whimper, and Kurt finally detached their lips, drawing another slight gasp from his boyfriend.

"Are you—"

"Kurt, that was a happy noise, happy noise. Please continue," Blaine sounded breathless, and well, kind of wrecked. Grinning slightly, Kurt sat up, twisting his hips up until he was straddling him. Blaine moaned, and almost jerked his hips up. Almost.

Frustrated at the soloist's amount of self control, Kurt bit down sharply on Blaine's bottom lip; Blaine gasped, and the taller boy kissed the corner of his mouth softly, sensually.

He kissed down on his jaw, and his neck, pressing his lips to his pulse, and sucking gently. Blaine seemed to be fighting a sort of mental battle, but as he raised his hand up, Kurt pulled away and muttered. "Touch my hair and we'll see how many Y chromosomes you'll have left." His voice was strained.

Blaine chuckled, and decided he wanted to have some play in this. He pulled away, untangling Kurt's hands from his curls, drawing a groan from the countertenor. He flipped them over, and Kurt looked delicious just lying there, his cheeks flushed and mouth slightly parted, taking quick breaths. Blaine's eyes darkened with lust. It was unbelievable how much he wanted the boy beneath him, but he wasn't willing to do anything so soon. He was worried for the younger boy. He was his mentor, right? His sort of gay Yoda?

Kurt seemed to have sensed what he was thinking. "Look," he murmured darkly. "I don't give a shit about you being noble or honorable. I've gone all week without seeing you. I've got you here, in my room on my bed, my Dad and Carol are in Columbus for some convention, Finn's at a party with Puck, and I'm horny. Do I have to start everything around—"

Blaine's mouth—oh yes—cut him off, and his hands were sliding underneath Kurt's blue McQueen polo, rubbing his flat but slightly defined abdomen. It was firm beneath his hands, and with a touch all hesitance flew out the window. Blaine had gained control of the situation, and despite how unbelievably turned on he was by dominant Kurt, he needed to show just how much he adored the

The polo was unbuttoned, agonizingly slowly because Blaine couldn't bear to miss this moment. His boyfriend was gorgeous; he smiled to himself. The hottest piece of ass in Ohio. He wondered how he could have been such an idiot to miss this for so long. Pandering over buttheads like, god forbid, Jeremiah. Kurt had been right in front of him the whole time, waiting for him to get his head out of his ass and to make a move. And what did it take? A song. A fucking song. He forced himself to concentrate on the delicate white skin beneath him. Not even a stupid Gap crush was going to cock block him now.

Kurt gripped Blaine's upper arms, holding on for dear life as the Warbler kissed down his torso, worshipping it. He shuddered when he licked right beneath his navel. He whined when Blaine moved up again, once again changing paths, but all protest cut off when Blaine had his right nipple in his mouth, swirling it and tugging on it gently. Kurt was panting now.

"Please Blaine!" he cried. "Please!"

Blaine smirked. "Yes babe?" Kurt growled: a low guttural manly sound. Blaine's member twitched, and he stroked Kurt's chest. "Fuck," Kurt breathed, grounding his hips against his boyfriend's. Kurt knew how far gone he sounded; he wondered if he looked as much.

The shorter boy's eyes widened. He hadn't expected that. Incredibly turned on, he trailed his hand down to the hem of Kurt's incredibly tight Balmain skinny jeans. For the first time in his life he cursed fashion. He rubbed along the waistband, but took pity on the squirming boy beneath him. He lowered his hand, and started to roughly palm the fashionista's erection. Kurt cried out, his hips lifted off the bed, trying to gain more friction. He desperately wanted to touch, to feel.

"Do it again," he said, lightly trailing his fingers around his own pulsing erection.

Kurt looked up, hair in his eyes. "Do what?" his voice was breathless.

"Swear. It's so hot," Blaine moaned. Kurt smirked.

"You like it? You like it when I tell you how fucking horny it makes me when you touch me like this? You want me to tell you that I want nothing more than to ride up and down on your juicy cock—" at this, Blaine hissed. "milking it till you come in me. Do you know how that turns me on? The thought of your come inside of me?"

Blaine thrust his hips forward, silencing the countertenor. He whimpered, but a spark of something ignited in his eyes.

"I want you to pump your fingers in and out of me, till I fuck your fingers. I'm so horny right now, so do something about it!" Kurt demanded. Blaine grinned. Now that was the bossy fashionista he loved and lusted after, bold and arrogant. (A/N: *Grin*)

Blaine unzipped and unbuttoned Kurt's jeans with one hand, much to his own satisfaction. He tugged them down and tossed them haphazardly across the room by the waist basket. Kurt looked angry, and opened his mouth to—

Blaine silenced any other thoughts with a deep open mouthed kiss. Kurt moaned into the other, licking across his bottom lip. Kurt lost all sensibility when a tanned hand dipped down into his boxers.

He jerked upward, seeing white. Rough fingers were pumping him to an uneven rhythm. Blaine swiped his index finger into the slit and felt wetness. Kurt was rock hard and dripping with precum. He pulled his hand out of the countertenor's underpants and tasted it, licking his fingers.

Kurt had never seen such an erotic sight. "You- grunt- have too many- gasp- clothes on!" He ripped Blaine's blazer, and it fell crumpled to the floor, discarded like both teen's self control—

Kurt rubbed his hips roughly against the Warbler's, emitting a deep groan from his boyfriend. Blaine rubbed Kurt's length through his boxers, both of them aching for more contact.

"Wait," Blaine blinked, coming to his senses at last. Kurt moaned, grasping for contact. "Are you sure—"

"Fuck you!" Kurt whimpered. "If you think, ugh, that I'd let it get this far, without being sure…" he trailed off warningly.

Blaine got the message. He shrugged out of his trousers and underwear, and rid Kurt of his boxers. At last they were naked together, chest to chest, skin to skin, cock to cock.

Kurt pulled himself onto his knees, and pushed Blaine up against the headboard. The soloist's eyes widened, realizing what his boyfriend had planned. Kurt dipped his head, and blew cold air onto Blaine's shaft; he jerked his hips up, but the taller boy was pressing down on them firmly, preventing much movement. He licked along the slit, and Blaine lost it. He yelled out, his handing twining in Kurt's hair, not to force him down, but simply for something to hold on to.

Kurt opened his mouth, and took the head inside, his tongue pressed on the underside just like he'd read. Blaine was writhing, and Kurt went down on more than half before his gag reflex kicked in. He forced himself to swallow around it. He bobbed his head up and down, swirling his tongue delicately around the aching shaft.

A long stream of moans and whimpers were milked from the soloist, he had tears in his eyes. He tossed his head back, and his body stiffened, approaching orgasm.

Kurt recognized the signs, and pulled up, much to the Warbler's dismay. Blaine cried out, but Kurt silenced him with his lips.

"Shh," he whispered. "I just need to get lube and a condom," he wordlessly bent over the side of the bed, leaving his sweet ass in plain view. Blaine drifted a hand over it, caressing each cheek. He squeezed them.

Smiling, Kurt pulled his hand from his bedside drawer with a small blue bottle and a little square package.

He leant over, resting his head next to Blaine's ear, and breathed, "I want you to top." Blaine's heart stopped. "Prepare me."

With his mouth curved into a slight smile, Blaine popped the lid off of the bottle and dipped his index and middle fingers into it. Kurt spread his legs in front of him, leaning back. Both boys were breathing hard.

When a first slick digit pressed passed that first ring of muscle, Kurt whimpered. It burned, but wasn't unpleasant. He shifted, and attempted to relax. The finger pushed in farther.

"It's okay baby, I'm here," Blaine cooed, stroking the younger boy's sweaty forehead. Kurt adjusted, and Blaine pressed his middle finger inside of his boyfriend, rock hard still after his almost blowjob. Kurt mewled in need, and he scissored his two digits inside of him. Kurt rocked back onto them.

"How do you like that?" he growled, unbelievably horny. "Fucking my fingers like that, yeah, just like that…"

The shorter boys pushed his fingers in and out; Kurt met them on every thrust. He was desperate to be inside of his, his porcelain skinned boy, and never let go. He was intoxicated, obsessed.

"Fuck me, please!" Blaine was pulled down from the clouds, and realized where he was, and more importantly—how much he needed to fuck Kurt like an animal—

He gently pulled his fingers out of Kurt, who mewled at loss of contact. Ripping open then package with his teeth, he rolled the condom on and over his dripping member. Blaine lifted Kurt's hips into the air, and centered himself in front of his entrance.

Their eyes met, one set looking for confirmation, one set confirming. Blaine pushed the head inside of Kurt's tight passage.

Kurt stopped all movement, biting down fiercely on his lip, tears in his eyes. Blaine stopped too, forcing himself to express all the self control he had to stop from ramming inside of his boyfriend, burying himself to the hilt…

Several long moments passed. Kurt finally nodded his eyes, which were only slightly red and puffy. Blaine pushed forward another inch, then another. Kurt gasped suddenly. His prostate was extremely sensitive, and a single brush could reduce him to a whimpering mess. He let out a strangled sob. The hard length inside him rubbed against that little nub, and he quivered.

Pleased he had drawn such a violent reaction out of his boyfriend, Blaine grasped Kurt's hand, and held it. Kurt clutched at it tightly, grateful for something to rein himself to the world of the conscious.

Finally, finally, Blaine was all of the way inside. It was unbearably tight. He was blissed out.

"Yes! Oh, fuck!" Blaine cried, beginning to move. Kurt was impaled on his sheath, his eyes clenched shut. For a moment, Blaine was worried that the countertenor was still in too much pain, and he had moved to fast, and—

"Why'd you stop?" Kurt demanded, his eyes snapping open. He ground his hips into the soloist's, who moaned, thrusting erratically. Their bodies molded together perfectly.

The pace evened out, and Kurt was in ecstasy. "Please, go faster," he begged, raking his fingers up Blaine's back. Blaine pushed faster, gripping Kurt's thighs tightly, almost sure to leave marks in the morning. He wanted to bruise Kurt's beautiful creamy skin.

Kurt's pants were uneven as he met each thrust with one of his own. Every nudge against his sweet spot had him shaking underneath his boyfriend.

"You like—pant—that? You want me to fuck you harder?" Blaine growled, burying his face into the pillow beside the fashionista's ear.

Blaine was in heaven. Kurt was so tight, he couldn't think straight. Desperate for his coming orgasm, he bucked his hips wildly back and forth, needing to feel Kurt under him.

The room was tense, and sweltering hot. The hot July thunderstorm added to the din. Moans and pants carried around the room, echoing loudly. If Blaine hadn't been so far gone, he would have appreciated the absence of Kurt's family; he wanted the beautiful boy all to himself, desperate to feel the silky smooth skin under his hands. He needed to bite and mark up his boyfriend, and see the evidence of their passion in the morning, as a reminder that this hadn't all been a dream.

Kurt's hand moved to his own cock, which was leaking precum down his stomach. He pumped it roughly. His eyes were dilated, as he rocked closer to his own end. Blaine bit down on Kurt's neck, and clear glasz eyes dilated with lust. His body began to tense, his breathing sped up, and

Kurt let out a little scream as he began to shoot, coating both his stomach and his boyfriend's abdomen. "Blaine! Blaine Blaine Blaine Blaine…" he cut off as Blaine's body stiffened, and he came deep inside, crying out, unable to stop pounding against Kurt.

When exhaustion kicked in, they collapsed against each other: Kurt flipped them over so he could lay his badly mussed up hair against Blaine's sweat soaked chest. Blaine however, having more sense, propped them up so he could pull out. He rolled off the used condom, and tossed it in the waist basket beside the bed.

Kurt snuggled up against him, smiling sweetly with his eyes closed. Blaine felt his own mouth turning upward. He nuzzled his rough cheek on Kurt's brunette locks.

"I love you," Kurt whispered. Blaine's eyes widened, and he rubbed his hands across Kurt's forehead, wiping his sweaty locks out of his face.

"I—" Blaine didn't finish, but pressed his lips to Kurt's. The kiss was slow and chaste, smoldering brain fuses.

"I love you too," he said in wonder. Then the soloist chuckled. "This sucks."

Kurt looked alarmed, and hurt. "What? Why?" When Blaine laughed again, Kurt sat up, swinging his legs off of the bed.

"No!" Blaine said hastily. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Well then how did you mean it, Blaine?" Kurt snarled, his eyes glistening. Blaine put his hand on Kurt's lower back, and caressed softly.

"I meant that I wanted to be the one who said I love you first, silly. When you say it second, it just doesn't have the same amount of meaning. Do you get what I'm saying?

Kurt rubbed at his eyes, trying to dry them of moisture. "Sort of," he mumbled, upset he'd over reacted like that.

The thunderstorm outside hadn't slowed in the slightest. Every time lightning flashed, it illuminated Kurt's pale and earnest face. It was honestly kind of creepy. Mysterious, or surreal. Or maybe it was just the afterglow of his orgasm.

They lay together like that, clutching at each other tightly. Both were unwilling to let go, lest something could ruin the perfectness both felt, to their very cores. Neither understood what they were feeling, and it was a scary thing for a teenager. The room was stifling, and the scent of jasmine and sandalwood mixed with the smell of sweat and sex swirled. As the heat of the afternoon rolled on, and the thunder lulled them to sleep, they didn't feel remorse.

No regrets, just love.