A/N: First week back at school means no sleep and truly insane levels of stress. I'm so frustrated tonight I think I could literally put my fist through a wall. So instead, here's some crackfic.


For once, Kurt didn't care about their neighbors.

He'd come home after being away for five weeks – five entire weeks, the longest amount of time they'd ever spent apart – studying textiles in Italy. He'd taken two steps into the apartment when Blaine ran up and threw himself at him, latching onto his neck and sucking with abandon, and Kurt promptly let out a moan that was loud enough to be heard by 3F, 3H, and possibly (okay, probably) 3E and 3I.

They kissed and groped and groped and kissed, tongues twisting and teeth clashing, pulling off their shirts and fumbling with their zippers on a zigzag path toward their bedroom. Blaine was naked first – he always seemed to win that race – and he jumped onto the bed, breathing hard as he hungrily watched Kurt strip off the last of his clothing.

"Missed you."

"Wanna taste you," Kurt said low, and Blaine let out a whimper.

"Yes. Fuck, yes."

Kurt climbed onto the bed, bracing his arms on either side of Blaine and hovering over him. His eyes glinted as he blew out a slow breath, ghosting over Blaine's torso, then stomach, then lower–

Then he stopped, and stared.

"Kurt, please, please, don't tease–"

They'd been apart for five weeks. Thirty-five days, and Kurt knew from experience just how fast Blaine's skin healed. And besides, he remembered every mark he ever left on his boyfriend, if just because of how exciting it still felt to mark him.

And there, on the inside of Blaine's upper thigh, was a very fresh, very new hickey.

He felt faint; the world was teetering and tottering and nothing was stable anymore. They'd been boyfriends for three years, and living together in New York City for the past year, and sharing long talks about love today and marriage tomorrow and kids down the road and now... and now someone else's mouth had been on Blaine.

"Please, baby, please–"

"Blaine." Kurt closed his eyes briefly, gathering his strength. "What is that?"

"What's what?" Blaine looked down, following Kurt's line of vision, and froze. "Oh, shit."

"Blaine?"

"Just don't look at it." He grabbed a handful of sheets, covering up the hickey from view. "Okay, go ahead."

"Go ahead?" The hurt was quickly giving way to pure, unbridled Hummel Fury. "Go ahead with what, dare I ask?"

"Tasting...?" Blaine trailed off. "Oh, come on, Kurt, don't judge."

"Don't judge?"

"You were gone for five weeks! I haven't gone five weeks without having sex with you since I was a junior in high school!"

Kurt was seething now. "And what, I have?"

"No, obviously, no... but... I mean, five weeks."

"Yeah. Five weeks for me too." Five weeks of being hit on by Giovanni, and Carlo, and most of the gay and bisexual guys he'd met on his program. Five weeks of steadfastly declining their invitations without a second thought. "You know how I dealt with it? I jerked myself off every night, and sometimes in the morning too. That's what normal people in committed relationships do to release tension when they have to be apart."

Blaine's eyes flashed an objection. "That's not fair."

"Not fair?"

"Jerking off wasn't enough for me. You know how much I love it when you bite me and–"

"Stop," Kurt said firmly, gritting his teeth as images swam across his brain. Who had Blaine turned to, when his own hand had failed to satisfy his needs? Whose teeth and tongue had pulled and teased in just the way that Blaine loved best? "I don't understand this."

"What don't you understand?"

"How could you even do that, Blaine?" he asked helplessly. "It's not like you."

"I've always been kind of loose... well, looser than you, anyway. You knew that about me."

Kurt felt his mouth drop open. "You mean this has happened before?"

"Um..." Blaine smiled weakly. "Not often?"

"Not often," he repeated flatly.

"Well, I mean, this is the first time it's happened since we've been in New York. It was mostly way back when we first started dating. We went so slow at the beginning – and I was fine with that, really, I wanted to wait until you were ready... but I needed to get off, and... yeah."

Kurt's eyes widened. "So wait, that was when you were at Dalton?"

Blaine nodded, his cheeks a miserable shade of red.

That meant it had been someone Kurt had known there – someone he'd probably been friends with – Wes, maybe, or Thad, or... He put his head in his hands, still reeling, and felt Blaine's palm touch his shoulder tentatively.

"I honestly wouldn't have done it if I'd known it would upset you," Blaine said softly. "I promise it won't happen again, if that's what you want."

Kurt lifted his head incredulously. "You didn't know it would upset me? Are you serious?"

"I... I don't know. I just figured it was understood that if we were separated, we'd get off however we wanted. It wouldn't bother me if you'd done it." Blaine's eyes darkened. "Actually, I think that'd be kind of hot."

"I'll pass."

"You know I was imagining that you were the one doing it to me, right?" Blaine's lips touched the back of his neck, and Kurt flinched, pulling away.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He studied his boyfriend's face, looking for the signs that he had missed, all these years, that Blaine was capable of this sort of betrayal. "You know what? Screw it, I want the details."

"What?"

"I want to know exactly how it happened." Nothing, he knew, could possibly come close to what he was already imagining in his head. At least with the details, he could figure out whether he would ever be able to forgive Blaine.

Blaine's eyes searched his, and finally he nodded. "Okay. Well, it was last night. I was lying here–"

"In our bed?"

"Kurt, just let me–" He took a deep breath and continued. "I was thinking about how you were coming back in less than twenty-four hours, and how I hadn't really gotten myself off since you left. I mean, I'd tried, but jerking off kind of pales in comparison to your hands and mouth on me, and I couldn't ever seem to get myself to come."

Kurt moved away from him, inching toward the foot of the bed and watching somberly as Blaine stretched himself out on his back.

"I was stroking myself, like... well, like this." Blaine began to pull at his shaft with long, slow strokes. "I was imagining that it was you, but whenever you give me a handjob, you always suck on my thigh at the same time..." He shoved a pillow under his neck and raised his legs, back back back, over his head until his toes curled around the top of the headboard. "And then I just–" He leaned his head forward, sucking and biting at the inside of his own thigh, moaning as his hand moved faster, and his mouth sucked harder–

"Stop." Kurt couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but pull down Blaine's legs and affix his own mouth to the hickey-in-progress, sucking and biting and crying just a little bit with relief, and Blaine was moaning loud enough to wake the dead, and–

And yeah, for once, Kurt didn't give a shit about their neighbors.


the end