DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy. Title from "Alibi" by 30 Seconds To Mars.
Warnings are: straight from the get-go, this is 120% porn. PWP in size-72 font. Blowjobs, handjobs, facials; slutty, slutty Blaine. Small amount of swearing.
Why am I being so prolific? How? I don't know, but I love writing this much.

Reviewers, I love you more than Tootsie Noodles loves Mega-Girl. You are all so sweet.

TUMBLR IS THAT WAY
endofadream [.] tumblr [.] com

xxxxXxxxx

In Blaine's opinion, Kurt always sounds so pretty when he's getting his cock sucked.

It's one of the reasons Blaine loves doing it so much. Kurt is always too controlled, too careful about what he says or does. When Blaine's on his knees Kurt allows himself to let go, allows his hands to pull roughly at Blaine's hair, to force him further down on his cock (and that one had taken some time to get Kurt to warm up to; despite all of Blaine's reassurances of I'll be fine, Kurt, I wouldn't ask you to if I wasn't completely okay with it Kurt was still afraid something would go wrong) and allows himself to moan and whine and whimper and swear in rapid variation.

It's devastatingly hot and most of the time requires, embarrassingly, no reciprocation on Kurt's part. By the time Blaine finishes Kurt off he's come himself, and the first time it'd happened Blaine had been so, so embarrassed, afraid to even look Kurt in the eye. He was overeager, overexcited, too enthusiastic and he couldn't help it. He's gay, he's known it for years, he's known what being gay entails and he really, really loves every part of the male body.

It makes him feel like he's thirteen again and jerking off for the first time. Coming just from sucking your boyfriend off cannot be normal, although Blaine maintains that because he's always been partial to noises (singing, speaking, dialects) and Kurt isn't exactly quiet. So maybe he'd gotten over it quickly and let himself be swept away by Kurt's impressive range and the reactions from his body that Blaine could elicit just with a simple touch of his fingertips.

That was then and this is now, the present, when they've been together for almost a year and Blaine feels completely comfortable being like this, naked and on his knees with his mouth and one of his hands on Kurt's cock, the other teasing his own hard cock with light touches that make his eyelashes flutter against the tops of his cheekbones.

Kurt's skin is milky white and soft to the touch as a result of his famous moisturizing routine. Blaine can never help running his hand up and down Kurt's thighs, sliding behind to trace the curves of his ass and rub a finger against his hole to feel him jerk forward into his mouth, tip of his cock hitting the back of Blaine's throat and making his eyes water in a pleasant way.

There's no place else Blaine would rather be. He loves rubbing the taut muscles of Kurt's abdomen, stretching up, up, until he can press a palm to a nipple, apply pressure and drag, rub, until it's peaked and Kurt is shivering, his hand a hot weight over Blaine's. He can feel the saliva trail down his chin, hear the obscene sounds of his own mouth and tongue working over Kurt's cock, feel the pre-come slide onto his tongue and down his throat.

But he wants more, so much more.

With one final lick Blaine leans back, keeping his fist wrapped firmly around the base of Kurt's cock. Kurt's eyes slowly blink open and he looks down; Blaine matches his gaze with his own. "What's wrong, Blaine?" Kurt asks breathily, gently carding his fingers through Blaine's sweaty curls as Blaine runs the back of his unoccupied hand across his chin.

He smiles and realizes, again, how lucky he is. Only Kurt would look at him with that amount of tender concern when he stopped mid-blowjob. He drops a light kiss to Kurt's left thigh, licking over the wet imprint of his spit- and pre-come-slicked lips.

"Kurt, you—you won't think I'm weird for this, will you?" Blaine asks tentatively, hand straying to his own cock. His eyebrows are creased in worry, eyes turned to full puppy mode. The thought of what he wants to ask Kurt makes his body tremble and his cock to twitch, something that Kurt doesn't miss.

Kurt raises an eyebrow slightly as his eyes narrow but cups Blaine's jaw, says, "The only thing weird about you is your affinity for hair gel." He's got a smile on his mouth, small but genuine, and Blaine instantly relaxes.

Blaine laughs, smiles brightly, and watches Kurt's face as he pumps his hand up the length of his cock, twisting tight at the head and loosening as he slides back down. Kurt's lips part and he lets out a breathy moan, hand falling from Blaine's jaw to dangle loosely at his side. His other tightens in Blaine's hair.

Repeat, repeat, repeat, Kurt's toes curling into the carpet, until finally—

"I want you to come on my face," Blaine says hurriedly on the fifth stroke, just when Kurt's hips are canting forward, breath stuttering and Blaine knows he's close. Kurt stutters for a moment, surprise dancing in his eyes as he looks down at Blaine. His eyes trail still lower, settling where Blaine's hand is wrapped around his own cock, moving lazily and sloppily with a rarely-used hand. Kurt's mesmerized for a few moments, watching the slick head appear and disappear in the tight circle of his fist.

"You, uh, wha…?"

Blaine bites on his lower lip and says, again, with a steadier quality to his voice, "I want you to come on my face. And—and in my mouth."

"Yes. Oh god, Blaine, yes." Kurt doesn't hesitate in his encouragement. "Fuck. I want to see it." He tugs Blaine up quickly, pressing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss, hands insistent on the back of Blaine's neck as he pushes him closer and closer until there's no space between them, chests brushing, thighs sliding between thighs. However, when Blaine's tongue traces the edges of Kurt's lips his mouth closes almost immediately. Blaine wants to groan in frustration.

"Taste yourself," Blaine hedges, lips brushing against Kurt's, against the indentations his teeth have made in the full flesh of his lower lip. "Come on, Kurt."

It's something that Kurt hates, tasting himself. He's told Blaine that it's weird and gross but Blaine maintains that it's exhilarating and intimate. He respects the reluctancy, though, because both he and Kurt had been the same amount of inexperienced and nervous their first time together, and they're both too scared of screwing things up to have sex yet or do such adult things yet because no matter how good Blaine is with his mouth or Kurt is with his hands what they're doing is still, in a way, juvenile. But he wants this, needs this more than he's never needed anything. Blaine wants Kurt, ever the self-conscious, self-deprecating boy, to understand what the little things do to him.

"Blaine, I—" Kurt balks, framing Blaine's face with his hands and pulling back enough to lock eyes with him. "You know I—"

"I know," Blaine says on a groan, grabbing Kurt's hips to pull him flush, angling his own hips up to slide his cock against Kurt's. "I know, but you haven't come in my mouth yet. It won't—it won't be as bad as you think. Not as strong. I promise, Kurt."

Kurt internally sighs and then moans at the friction and moves his head forward, pushing his tongue into Blaine's mouth without a second thought, wanting to know, to taste and be that much closer to this beautiful, unashamed, unafraid boy, his own dislikes be damned.

Blaine kisses back, hand against the back of Kurt's head, holding him as their tongues slide and meet, rub against the ridges of teeth and the roofs of mouths. When they part Blaine kisses down his cheek, his jaw, that little spot under his chin that makes him mewl like a cat when Blaine kisses it. His tongue, pointed at the tip, trails a wet line down his throat, over his bobbing adam's apple, down his sternum and the sparse, light-colored hairs covering it.

Slowly Blaine lowers to his knees, palms flat against Kurt's side as he sinks, sliding along his pale skin, catching over the slight jut of his hipbones. Blaine's lips kiss and mark and press into the skin on his abdomen, reverent and soft.

"I love you," Blaine says before dropping his jaw and taking Kurt back into his mouth, lips a tight suction and tongue a velvet-smooth cushion against the underside of his cock. Kurt's reply of "I love you, too" is cut off by his shuddering intake of breath.

Blaine bobs his head only a few times, eyes tightly closed as he breathes in the scent of sex and Kurt, lets it fill his nostrils and consume him. He wants to take him all the way in, swallow until Kurt's cock is sliding into his throat, but he's never worked up to that, too afraid his gag reflex will kick in no matter how hard he tries to train it. It's all just a matter of time, though, and they've got all the time in the world to practice.

His lips meet the circle of his hand and he slides back, sucking hard on the head of Kurt's cock, hearing him moan loudly and jerk forward into his mouth. Blaine pulls off completely, keeping his hand tight around the base of Kurt's cock, feeling the hot, slippery weight of him in his palm; heavy and real and all his. With a quick glance up Blaine starts a quick pace, feeling his self-control dissolving further with each noise Kurt makes, cracking and falling every time his hand tightens in Blaine's hair and makes it just painful enough.

Kurt keens high in the back of his throat, mouth dropping open and allowing a long, thin moan to resound in the air. His hips snap forward slightly but Blaine keeps up his relentless pace, his own quiet, lower-register moans mixing in with Kurt's. "Blaine," Kurt gasps, grasping at his hair, rubbing his temple, any part of him that he can reach.

When Kurt looks down he almost loses it: Blaine's mouth is dropped open, pink tongue stuck out and glistening and wet a few inches underneath the head of Kurt's cock. Blaine's eyes are shut and his features are lax, not screwed up in anticipation like everyone else had talked about. It's like this is a catharsis for him. Blaine extends his tongue a little further, shifting a little on his knees, left hand thumbing over the head of his own cock before sliding down to twist at the base. He sighs in contentment and it's that little noise that can mean absolutely nothing and everything all at once that sets him off.

Kurt comes with a hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his shout as his semen lands in Blaine's mouth and spills in white strands down his chin, dropping to the dark hairs on his chest. A splash colors the tip of his nose, stringing down to his philtrum, another streak settling low on his cheek.

"Kurt, Kurt," Blaine gasps, eyes open now and wild and desperate, tendons on his neck standing stark as he jerks himself off faster, whole body trembling with his movements. Sweat glistens on his face, his neck, his chest, and he looks at Kurt and Kurt wants to collapse because Blaine is on his knees, jerking off and covered in his come. "Rub your—rub your cock on my cheek. Oh, fuck, please, please." Blaine's words are catching and sticking, hanging heavy and absolutely needy in the air as his chest heaves with uneven breaths.

Kurt makes a strangled sound that gets caught deep in his throat and can't believe that this is his boyfriend on his knees, begging for things Kurt's never even thought of. He obeys, though, without a second thought, gripping his softening cock and rubbing it against the stubbly-smooth texture of Blaine's cheek, staring in rapt fascination as the come already there is smeared into the olive skin like an oddly erotic fingerpainting. Blaine moans, quick and desperate and almost too loud, creases at the corners of his eyes deepening as he squeezes them shut. The smooth head of Kurt's cock presses, pushes in on Blaine's cheek, indenting, and when Kurt pulls back a string of come connects from Blaine's cheek to the head of Kurt's cock.

Through it all Blaine pumps his cock with an arm-aching pace, his moaning turning high and wrecked and breathy. He finally comes with a violent jerk of his hips upwards, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and tipping his head back as he comes over the floor, his stomach, and his hand.

"OhmygodBlaine," Kurt gasps, repeats over and over as he kneels on the floor next to his boyfriend. "Jesus Christ, fuck, Jesus, come here, come here." He can't stop repeating words, phrases, Blaine's name followed by swears against every deity he can think of. He pushes Blaine to the floor and straddles him, hissing a little as his oversensitive cock brushes against Blaine's.

Blaine's mind is still swimming in a hazy fog; as he looks up once he's on his back he sees Kurt's flushed-red face, his blown eyes and his swollen, red lips.

When Kurt looks down at Blaine's unfocused eyes he sees his full, red lips, the come sticking to his cheeks, his nose, his chin. Down his torso there are small splatters; farther down Blaine's own come is splashed against his abdomen, faint but there. He looks so fucking debauched and so… so slutty.

Kurt leans down and Blaine holds his breath as Kurt pokes his tongue out and tentatively follows the thin trail of semen arching from Blaine's cheek to his chin. Blaine shivers at the warm-cool sensation as Kurt cleans off his face like a cat. Blaine's hands curl around Kurt's waist as he lets out a little contented sigh when Kurt finally presses spit-slicked lips to his and Blaine can taste Kurt, can taste a little bit of what is probably his own sweat in there as well.

"I love you," Kurt breathes.

Follows up with, "It's weird and I never thought I'd ever say it, but I want to take a picture of you right now to keep forever."

Blaine laughs, voice lax and sated as he traces abstract patterns on Kurt's sides. "Luckily I'll be yours forever and I'm much more than a picture."

Kurt kisses him again.