A/N: I can't believe I forgot to put this fic up... sorry, y'all!

(the crisscolfer pictures from last night, I am dead.)

From: Kurt

i can't stop thinking about you naked

Blaine stares down at his phone, his throat dry.

He and Kurt have been dating for... what, four months? And all this time he's been careful not to push Kurt, careful to remember how uncomfortable the other boy had been with sex before they'd started dating. He hasn't pushed to do anything more than kissing, he's been careful not to let his hands stray below Kurt's waist. He's been careful to tilt his hips away from Kurt when they're making out, lest Kurt feel him and be frightened away.

And Kurt seemed fine with this. More than fine, actually. He'd never given any indication that he wanted to move any faster.

And yet here Blaine is, staring down at a text message from Kurt saying that sometimes—scratch that, a lot of the time—he pictures Blaine naked.

It isn't anything Blaine hasn't done, of course. He's pictured Kurt naked too many times to count. He jerks off nightly to images of him and Kurt naked together—sweat beading on their bodies, limbs tangled together, lips pressed against warm skin.

But he's never entertained the notion that Kurt might possibly be imagining the same things.

His throat is parched.

From: Blaine

can I call you?

From: Kurt

with mercedes and rachel. i'll call when i leave.

From: Kurt

is it bad that you want to call me?

From: Blaine


He sets down his phone, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, and closes his eyes, trying to remember if Kurt has shown any sign of changing feelings towards physical intimacy that Blaine has simply missed.

The last time they kissed was two nights ago, and yes, maybe it had been a little more intense than usual, but Blaine had chalked that up to both of them knowing they wouldn't be seeing each other for a few days.

Still, Blaine can't stop his mind from wandering back, remembering how Kurt had murmured something sweet-sounding in French against his lips, something Blaine didn't understand. Remembering how Kurt had kissed him then, sweet and long, before unexpectedly slipping his tongue into Blaine's mouth.

Blaine remembered gasping a little before responding eagerly, his hands cupping Kurt's hips. Kurt had nibbled on Blaine's bottom lip a little before letting go, and his eyes—those were pure bedroom eyes, and they'd sent this chill through Blaine that he hadn't been able to shake.

He'd had to discreetly rearrange himself in his pants when Kurt got out of the car to go around and open the passenger-side door.

But that wasn't exactly new. Kurt is a good kisser—always has been—and Blaine gets turned on by that, by how beautiful and unintentionally sexy and downright amazing Kurt is. He's used to ending the night after one of their dates with his hand curled around his cock, Kurt's name broken on his lips.

This... this is new. Some people might even consider it venturing into the realm of sexting (the Dalton boys sure would. The McKinley crowd sure wouldn't).

What is Kurt doing?

His train of thought is interrupted by the sound of his phone buzzing beside him. Kurt's face flashes on the screen, smiling brightly.

Blaine picks up on the second ring. "I wasn't expecting you to call me so quickly."

"I left Mercedes' house early," Kurt says. In the background, Blaine can hear a car horn blare. "I'm on my way home now."

"You shouldn't talk on the phone and drive," Blaine says reprovingly.

"I'm pulling onto my street right now," Kurt says, and for a moment they're both silent. Blaine hears the engine cut off.

He leans back against his bed again, gazing out the window at his back yard. The breeze ruffles leaves spread out beneath star-speckled sky. Crickets chirp. Water laps gently at the side of the pool.

Kurt is silent.

"Want to tell me what that text was all about?" Blaine ventures.

Kurt sighs heavily. "No."

Blaine's lips turn downward. "Kurt, I think we should talk about it."

"If you don't feel the same- If you- you can just forget it, Blaine," Kurt huffs, his voice crackling with something that sounds like disappointment.

"Do you really think about me like that?" Blaine blurts.

There's silence, then another heavy sigh, and a muffled shuffling sound. Kurt's voice sounds much closer when he says "yes," in a very quiet voice.

Blaine lets out a relieved breath. "Good," he says.

"Good?" Kurt's voice rises a few octaves.

"Then I can feel less guilty about thinking about you... that way, too."

There's a brief moment of silence, and Blaine is so afraid for a moment that he's said something wrong, that Kurt is going to break up with him and hang up- "Blaine?"

Blaine lets out the breath he's been holding. "Yes?"

"Could you- do you-" Kurt stammers. "I- could you... tell me, maybe?"

Blaine's heart thuds faster. Is Kurt...?

He has to make sure.

He shifts the phone over to his other ear. "I don't know what you're trying to say."

"Could you... maybe... describe? What you think about me?"

Holy shit.

Kurt is.

"Are you- are you sure?" Blaine's voice is hardly a whisper.

A moment of silence, then- "yes," Kurt breathes, and oh god that voice, Blaine is already getting hard, even as he attempts to ignore the heat curling low in his stomach.

"I- sometimes when I'm in bed, at home, after one of our dates," Blaine begins, "I can't stop- I can't stop thinking about touching you. I can't stop thinking about- about your skin. The way your shirt pulls up sometimes, god, Kurt- your skin-"

If he wasn't listening so closely for Kurt's reaction, he might've missed the choked-off noise that comes from Kurt's side of the phone.

"Sometimes I think about what we could do- what we haven't done yet-"

"Like-" Kurt clears his throat. "Like what?"

"Everything, Kurt, god, I think about it all the time-"

"Could you, like-" Kurt clears his throat again. "Could you specify? Like, a certain scenario?"

Blaine literally stops breathing for a second.

"Yeah-" he stutters, once he's gained control of himself again, and his free hand clenches in his bedcovers. "I- sometimes we're making out, and you're kissing that spot under my jaw I love so much-" Kurt makes a small noise. "-and then you move, you- you get on top of me, straddling me, and you're kissing me harder- and then-" They've reached the point of no return, Blaine knows they have, and he pauses.

"And then?" Kurt prompts, and his voice is strained.

"And your hand slides into my jeans," Blaine grinds out, sweating a little with the effort of not letting his hand mimic his words. "Over my underwear- and you-"

"Touch you, Blaine," Kurt says, his voice choked, and Blaine sucks in a harsh breath because it appears he's not the only one affected by the turn this conversation has taken.

"Kurt," Blaine breathes, his voice breaking. "Are you-"

"Not yet," Kurt pants, and there's another muffled noise. "But I'm- I'm unzipping my pants, Blaine-"

Blaine groans, tipping his head back until it cracks against the headboard. "I want to do everything to you, Kurt- I want to touch you everywhere, I want to make you- want to make you come, Kurt-"

"Blaine-" Kurt's breathing hard, his voice shaking. "Blaine- touch yourself for me, please, pretend it's me-"

"Kurt, it's always you, god-" Blaine gives in, reaches a hand into his pants and curling a hand around his cock. "The way you smell, the way you taste, the way you look... I want to make you come, I want to see you come-"

"Blaine-" Kurt says, "Blaine, I-"

"Kurt," Blaine gasps brokenly, tipping his cheek against his pillow and closing his eyes, curls flopping sweaty over his forehead, fist going limp around his still-hard cock. "I wish- I want to see you, Kurt, god."

"Blaine, I- look out the front window."

Blaine nearly drops the phone, because there's no fucking way.

He scrambles from the bed, holding his phone in one hand and holding his pants up with the other, down the hall to the front of the house, to the picture window on the second level.

A black navigator is parked in his driveway, only barely visible in the dimly-lit streetlights.

A quick intake of breath.

"Blaine?" Kurt says, and his voice is nervous.

"My parents are home," Blaine says softly, because they're asleep but they're not deaf. "Meet me in the backyard in three minutes."

Kurt makes a noise, and then abruptly, there's the dial tone.

The steps are tricky, especially since Blaine's so turned on he's surprised he can walk straight. He nearly stumbles on the last one, reaching out to save himself on the banister just in time.

The screen door sounds unbearably loud when he slides it open and slips out, letting his eyes adjust to the dark as he runs across the yard towards the shadowy figure waiting under the large oak on the far side of the pool.

"Blaine-" is all Kurt gets out before Blaine's hands are fisting in his hair, pulling him in for a hard kiss.

"Oh-" Kurt gasps against Blaine's mouth, his hands coming around to clutch into the back of Blaine's sleep-worn t-shirt. Blaine backs Kurt up against the tree, which must hurt but Kurt only moans into his mouth, thrusting his hips against Blaine's.

Blaine groans, mouth falling away from Kurt's as his head lands on Kurt's shoulder when Kurt thrusts again.

"Blaine- I-" Kurt stammers, his head tipping back, and Blaine slides his mouth up to Kurt's throat, tasting the sharp outline of the tendon that stands out there, stroking his tongue harshly up to his jaw, struggling for air against Kurt's skin.

Kurt's hands tug sharply where they're still attached to Blaine's shirt, and Blaine lifts his arms, letting Kurt pull it over his head and toss it to the side. His arms come around Kurt again, hands sliding to Kurt's chest to unbutton his shirt, pushing it away from his arms, mouthing down the curve of his shoulder as Kurt moans brokenly into the night air.

Somehow, they're on the ground, Blaine pressing Kurt back into the grass, one of his hands sliding up Kurt's chest as the other fumbles to undo Kurt's pants.

"Fuck," Kurt gasps, hands grasping at Blaine's neck. "Fuck- Blaine- I love you-"

Blaine's hand slips into Kurt's pants and his mouth seals onto Kurt's, sucking the words off his tongue, tasting him, tasting all of him. His hand wraps around Kurt's cock.

Kurt's mouth wrenches away from his as his face presses to the side, against the ground. Blaine keeps his eyes on Kurt's face as he strokes, tension coiling hotter and tighter in his stomach at the way Kurt gaps and moans.

"I love you," he murmurs against Kurt's mouth, "I love you, Kurt, love all of you."

"So much," Kurt gasps, which isn't even a real statement but Blaine doesn't care much because Kurt's hand is on his dick over his pants, palming hard.

He's so close, has been for what feels like ages, and he knows he isn't going to last long when he knows it's Kurt's hand that's touching him.

One more thing then, before he can let go- "come for me, baby," he says, and that's a new nickname but Kurt arches, gasping out Blaine's name as he spills over Blaine's fist.

It only takes that, Kurt coming with Blaine's name on his lips, to make the white-hot tension in Blaine's stomach break and then he's coming, coming with a soundless cry of what might've started as Kurt's name.

They lie in silence for a while, Blaine's head against Kurt's chest, listening to his pounding heartbeat. Kurt's fingers run through Blaine's damp curls as both of their breathing evened out.

"I love you," Blaine chances after a moment.

Kurt's chest quakes with quiet laughter as his hands still in Blaine's hair. "I love you, too," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Blaine's head. "I figured all you needed was a push."

"I thought you weren't ready," Blaine says defensively, sitting up to retrieve his shirt.

Kurt sits up too, wrapping his arms around Blaine from behind and peppering light kisses against his shoulder. "Do you believe me now?"

"Mmm, yes," Blaine breathes, tipping his head back to let his mouth meet Kurt's, softly.

Kurt sighs against his lips, then pulls away somewhat reluctantly. "I should go. My dad wanted me home by midnight."

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Blaine asks, hopefully.

"Definitely," Kurt breathes against his lips, leaning in for one last kiss.

Blaine's back in his bedroom, relatively cleaned up and climbing into his bed when he gets the last text.

From: Kurt

tomorrow, we're doing that on a bed. got grass stains all over my true religion jeans.

Blaine falls asleep with a smile on his lips.