A/N: Okay, first off, thank you to see-clarity for the beta work and a making time to read through this on short notice and, mostly, great discussions about what the hell I was trying to write and how to write it. And helping me put together the ending. Also to hepburngirl for listening to me bitch and moan about this A LOT.

And thank you to all of you for all your messages, reviews, likes and reblogs. Made me a very happy camper and has totally spurred me on with writing this and other things! Hopefully it manages to live up to expectation. One more WIP I'd really like to get off my plate pre-Glee but we shall see.


Kurt stumbles over words for a second, all of them catching in his throat as his lips move but no sound comes out. "Why didn't you tell me?" he hisses.

"I just…" Blaine trails off. "You kind of were all over me, figuratively speaking, and I kept meaning to and you kept interrupting and…saying things. And I got carried away. I'm sorry."

Kurt stares hard, brow creasing low, and wonders what on earth to do now that Blaine's sitting outside in his car. Fuck, must be in the backseat with his laptop perched on his knees and he just jerked off. In his car, screen illuminating his cock, out in front of Kurt's house. Fuck, but that's actually kind of hot.

"I should have told you straight away and we should have talked about this properly and I'm sorry that I pushed, I don't want you to freak out, I really, really don't." Blaine takes a breath, presses his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose. "And…you missed me. It was…a distance thing. But I'm back and I missed you. So much and if doing…that made you freak out then I am totally fine with waiting and not doing it in person. Completely. I just…I missed you. And I fell over myself getting you back even if it was over skype and I get how ridiculous that is. But I only want to be around you. We don't have to do anything. Okay, Kurt?" Kurt really, really loves his rambling, slightly panicked boyfriend. "Please just say we're okay."

"We're okay," Kurt reassures, then asks in a small voice, "And you really wouldn't mind if we just…didn't."

"Yeah, we won't." Blaine rattles out, the hand raking through his hair now. "This wasn't what was meant to happen, you know. I was going to show up and surprise you and we can still do that. I'll go home and come back tomorrow and we can cuddle on the couch and I can tell you all about my trip. I'll bring you flowers. Shit, I brought you flowers." A fancy bouquet of yellow and white appears in the image for a moment and Kurt's heart skips a beat; Blaine brought him flowers. "I'll come back tomorrow and we can pretend it never happened," Blaine's voice breaks at the end and Kurt can see the frown tugging at his lips.

Kurt considers this all with an arched eyebrow and still unsteady breath. "Really? Because you sound…" he lets the sentence trail off.

The flowers drop away to the side and Blaine runs a hand roughly over his face, then growls. Holy fuck, Blaine, romantic, bringing-him-flowers but sated and sweaty and staring right down the camera from a million miles away but just out the front, he growls. "I sound like I'm aching?"

Kurt's voice is still small and, he tells himself, he's still freaking out, but that's exactly how Blaine sounds. "Yeah."

Blaine huffs out a breath and won't make eye contact through the screen but he won't lie either. "I am. I…you said you ached for me." Now he looks, catches Kurt's gaze and won't let it go. "It makes me ache for you. But I can wait. I would much rather wait for you to be really ready than jump the gun and ruin it."

Kurt's chewing his bottom lip. Again. "You don't think this has already ruined it?"

Blaine laughs but the sound has too much of an electronic edge and is bitter anyway. But he tries so hard to smile and relax. "It was over skype," he says, "It was…" he trails off because he really wants to say 'amazing' and 'the hottest thing I've ever seen' and 'shit Kurt, can we just fall into bed and never stop'. But that's pressure, so he says, "We can pretend it never happened."

"What if I don't want to?" Kurt wonders out loud because Blaine, talking like this, is making his stomach knot again and Blaine hasn't said a thing about him not wanting to do it, all of it, again.

But Blaine just shakes his head. "You were freaking out, Kurt."

Kurt hurriedly replies, "I wasn't freaking out that it happened. I was freaking out that you were freaking out because—" he stutters to a stop. "Um," he stares down and Blaine thinks he's wringing his hands out of view. "I said some things."

Oh god. "You said you wanted to taste me." The thought hasn't slipped far from his mind since Kurt mumbled it through a breathless groan and now it's slipping past Blaine's lips, front and center.

Kurt pauses, dumbstruck and burning bright red and biting his lip because it's completely true and hearing Blaine say it makes it hot. That's exactly what he said, he remembers because the thought keeps circling back through his head.

Blaine breathes out harshly, losing some internal battle because, yeah they can forget this but for now, he can't rein himself in, find composure again and he knows what Kurt meant. "You didn't just mean you want to blow me at some undefined point in future. You meant you wanted to be here with me now and taste me."

"Yeah, I said that. And I'm freaking out that I said it," Kurt babbles, voice breaking from surprise and nervousness. Because Blaine doesn't seem freaked out at all now, he seems turned on and god, Kurt kind of wishes they were having this talk in person, but kind of also wishes they weren't.

"Because it's not true?" Blaine asks and it's so obvious from his voice that he hopes that's not the case.

"Oh Blaine," he murmurs, still all embarrassment. "I just…that's a bit much, isn't it?"

"For you or for me?" Such a strained voice and his expression still shrouded in darkness. Kurt wishes he could read his face more easily.

"For you, I thought," he answers carefully.

"It's not. "

"Oh. "

There's an uncomfortable long silence that only lasts a few moments and then Blaine asks, "Do you still mean it?"

Kurt hesitates only a second. Because he wouldn't lie about it even if Blaine wasn't seemingly fine. "Yes. "

"And you're not freaking out because this was too soon?" Blaine clarifies.

"You're not?" Because Kurt really, really isn't. And he wants to do it again. And, fuck, he really wants to do it in person. He wants to touch. He still wants to taste. Skin and sweat and come.

Blaine takes another deep breath and goddamn it, Kurt's stopped freaking out, he's stopped and now he's just missing his boyfriend. And the ache is back. The ache for intimacy and fun and touch.

But Blaine says, crystal clear, even over skype, "No, not freaking out about this. I think I could do this thing with you on my bed—properly—three times a day every day from now until forever and it still wouldn't be enough."

Kurt's breath catches and he mumbles, "I missed you so much," and then, suddenly he can feel his eyes prickling with the threat of tears.

He can hear Blaine breathing and looks up to see his brow low in consideration.

"Can you hang on a minute?" Kurt asks in a rush and then slides out of view without waiting for an answer.

Blaine strains to hear anything going on, wonders what exactly has torn Kurt away at a moment like this. He wants to kick himself for not pulling everything to a halt, stopping the madness that was getting off with your boyfriend for the first time over skype. While sitting out in front of said boyfriend's house. God, he hopes this all works out. At least Kurt isn't freaking out anymore.

He keeps staring at the screen, he sighs and worries and fiddles and almost drops his laptop for the umpteenth time that night when there's a loud tapping on the window and there's Kurt, staring in, staring at where Blaine's cock is still mostly exposed and half-hard from too much thinking about things he's been promising to forget. Blaine scrambles, moving his laptop to the middle seat of the SUV, his pants pulled higher and held around his hips tight while he ignores the wet sticky mess there, and him backing up to the seat opposite the door Kurt's knocking at.

Kurt's grinning, and Blaine must look like a wide-eyed fool but underneath all of it both of them are breathing a deep sigh of relief just to have the other back.

Kurt knocks again, rapping his knuckles against the window and raising an eyebrow at Blaine. Blaine, still holding his pants up, leans over, shifts the laptop to the front seat, now, and unlocks the door.

And Kurt's falling into the car, uncoordinated and yanking the door closed behind him and leaning in, hands on the window and the seat to either side of his boyfriend and kissing him. Just mouth on mouth, nothing else touching except where their knees knock in the too-small space, and kissing hungrily, like he said he would. All tongues and tasting and taking without asking, licking into Blaine's mouth over and over, across his tongue and moaning then, pulling back to look at him and press his lips together and swallow. Kissing him again, over and over, pressing his mouth to his bottom lip then his chin, then his cheeks and mumbling between the kisses, "Please, please let his not be weird."

And then Kurt pulls back further, searching for a hint of rejection, any hesitation, anything that says this is a mistake. But it's all love and lust and surprise and in eyes that are finally the right colour, the right sparkle, even here in the darkness, it's so, so, much more real than through the internet.

"I missed you so much," Blaine whispers and his hands slide up the backs of Kurt's thighs, the cotton of his pyjama pants not hiding the strength or the heat or the tremble there at all. He lets Kurt kiss his jaw, lets him lap at the sweat still sticking to his neck, feels him mumble something into it without really meaning to and lets his hands slide higher, around his ass and squeezing, just a little, just daring to do it because, he thinks, maybe he can.

"How are you back?" Kurt asks between gasps.

"I missed you."

Kurt can't believe it. "So you just came home?"

"I was sulking," he admits as he presses a kiss to Kurt's neck. "I told my parents I wanted to leave early. And they didn't question it. So here I am."

"You left Europe a week early to be with me?" Kurt balances, moving closer, knees against the edge of the seat on the outside of Blaine's legs, one hand still keeping distance between them, leaning against the back of the seat. The other hand he winds into Blaine's hair, pulls just a little roughly to expose more of his neck and he forgets he's never done that in reality until Blaine's hips snap up hard under his and there's a whisper, just a whisper, of contact between them and they both moan.

Blaine's hips settle back as they stare, wonder if they could just fall into each other and rock like they instinctively want to and Kurt really, really wants to reach down and push Blaine's pants out of the way, his shirt up and press.

"Missed Paris, Versailles and Bordeaux to be with you," Blaine mumbles.

And with a jolt, Kurt sees all of it. The last days of summer, Blaine back and his, all his and, "No one's at your house, then?"

Blaine just shakes his head dumbly as Kurt tries to get more space between them, the heat from Blaine's body making him want to fall. But he can't, muscles already aching from holding himself up, will bending to see Blaine beneath him so turned on. He can't possibly pull himself all the way off when he wants so badly to collapse against him, kiss and touch, hands on his cheeks, in his hair. Not yet. Oh but he wants to.

"Let's go," he says simply.

"Your dad…" Blaine says but it's utterly lacking in conviction and his eyes are cast down, down to where his hands aren't holding his pants up and there's a sliver of dark skin, coarse hair showing. He breathes deep and glances up to make sure Kurt sees his shirt creep higher with the shift, an inch of belly and nothing else but Kurt licks his lips.

"Have me home by seven and no one will know. Actually, bring me home and stay for breakfast and we'll just say you came over early."

And then, a week alone in Blaine's house, a week of whatever they like before Blaine's parents come back and then school and everything else complicated returns and Kurt wants this to be as easy as falling. He wants to let Blaine creep further under his skin and start whispering about all the dirty, not-so-innocent things he wants to do to him, wants to start doing them, wants, wants, Blaine to like them.

Because Kurt held back for so long. He pushed everything down because he never suspected he'd have anybody like Blaine in Ohio. He wasn't even sure he'd find anybody out of Ohio, it just never felt real. But under him, Blaine feels so real. From that first kiss, Blaine has been real and willing and wanting. Blaine wants him. And Kurt's mind has run away with a thousand possibilities and he's kind of starting to think he might be a bit adventurous and kinky and god knows. And now, just now as Blaine stares up at him and arches his hips up and by god, they are not pretending amazing things like this didn't happen. Now Kurt thinks maybe that's okay.

Better than okay. But small steps, because he's only been letting himself think these things for months. Has never—with the exception of fifteen minutes ago—uttered the out loud and he can feel them, awkward, on his tongue.

A week, so now he gives in a little, he lets his hand leave the window, slides his fingers into Blaine's hair, lacing them with his other hand there and slowly lowers his hips until he's straddling Blaine's legs. And he's so hard, no underwear, just sweaty thin cotton, and it's obvious and Blaine gasps to see it or feel it or whatever. But Blaine arches and Kurt stops breathing because Blaine's hands grab at his back, fingers splaying into the dip, thumb at his waist, steadying them both and Kurt can see the head of Blaine's cock, flushed red and just there sliding free of his clothes.

Blaine grins at him lopsided and blushes but doesn't cover up. "You're sure we're doing this?"

Kurt leans in and they share another kiss, this one slow and sure and then Kurt pulls back and lets his teeth scratch across a cheek, down Blaine's jaw and then down his neck. He rocks his hips down, tilts to try to get some contact and moans to feel the muscle of Blaine's thigh against his balls. And then he opens his eyes and stares, scratches his fingernails across Blaine's scalp and says, "Not everything. Not yet. But naked. And touching. I want that. I want to watch you again. With proper lights and no pixels. Or lag." He pauses, stares, tangles his fingers and kisses against at Blaine's neck. "I want to tell you what I think."

Blaine's brow creases and Kurt sees it as he pulls back. God, why does it feel so awkward. "I want to tell you everything I think," he tries again. "I think…a lot." And he blushes and Blaine chuckles but his breath catches at the same time and he nods.

Then Blaine laughs some more, his own cheeks red, breathless, awkward but happy and whispering out, "About tasting?" as something of a joke but also not, Kurt hopes. Blaine's hands sink down from the small of Kurt's back until his fingertips are at the waistband of his pants and he's angling him differently, pulling him forward just a few inches, tempting him and making them both gasp even though there's no contact. "I really, really missed you."

Kurt laughs back and finds Blaine's mouth with his own. "I really, really missed things we haven't done yet," he says. And this, he thinks, is when he should pull back and away and move to the front passenger seat. Wait for Blaine to follow him, get behind the wheel and drive them somewhere with a bed and lights. But thinking about it, about what they might do tonight, about the anticipation and the strange lack of apprehension he seems to be feeling, makes him want to stay.

"I—" Kurt stops, starts again, feeling bold and so turned on, fuck, turned on again, because his boyfriend is back and kissing him in ways they've never kissed before and letting him lick and bite and suck. It feels better than ever.

They're going to do this back at Blaine's house, he's at least going to try to do it, so why not now, when he wants to. "You said it wasn't weird. You said it wasn't too much…" he trails off and slides a hand down Blaine's side to where he's yanked his shirt down and his pants up but forgotten to hold on to them while he kisses Kurt. To where even more of his cock has slipped free and it looks gorgeous like the rest of him and what a strange thing to think about someone's cock. "You have to tell me to stop if I do something you don't like."

It's all far too easy to slide a hand under Blaine's shirt and trail fingertips down his stomach—wet and sticky, sweat and come—press an open palm to the hair at the base of his cock and groan into Blaine's mouth because there are muscles there that Kurt can feel working, a shiver he feels through his hand, and Blaine's letting him. Letting him wrap his fingers around him and stroke and Blaine almost blacks out, muttering "Jesus," then "Fuck."

And Kurt stops and sends his hand up Blaine's stomach again and there's just a little come left on his skin, still warm, so sticky and this could all be terrible, Kurt reasons, this could be gross but he has to try.

So he pulls his hand back, holds it between them for a moment, their eyes locked, and then he laps across the skin of his palm. Blaine arches and bucks, says Kurt's name and then his abdomen clenches, muscles holding him together and Kurt's angled close enough to feel it through his legs and his own belly and he licks again and oh god, this isn't gross. This is hot. Tastes salty and acidic and thick on his tongue.

He glances at Blaine who's staring back all open-mouthed and wide-eyed lust, his cock hard and red and jutting out from the gap between shirt and pants and Kurt wants to stare at it, and trace every contour, every vein, taste every inch and commit it to memory. But he also wants more of just this.

And Blaine wants it too. Blaine wants this.

There's a streak of come across the fabric of Blaine's shirt and Kurt leans it and sucks on the material, lusting after the taste and everything it means is happening and pressing it to the roof of his mouth and hearing Blaine moan, feeling his knees shake just a little. Kurt needs more of this boy. He missed him. He can't believe he's back. He can't believe he'll ever, ever let him leave again.

And Kurt's in awe of the way Blaine's hips have started rocking, the bob of his cock mesmerising, and his body twisting where he's pressed back hard against the car seat. "I'm barely even touching you," he says.

"You don't have to."

"I want…"Kurt trails off again. He wants to talk but he doesn't know how to stop himself once he starts. He's terrified there's too much in his head.

"You like it?" Blaine interrupts.

Kurt just swallows and runs his tongue across the front of his teeth, not in a seductive way; he's trying to find the right words. Except Blaine stretches forward and grabs at him with both hands, dragging him forward, into his lap and pulling him flush against him, his hips pressing up instantly, so fast, and Kurt's only coherent thought is 'Holy fuck that's Blaine's cock' before Blaine's pressing and gasping into his mouth.

And Blaine's tongue has never been that rough, that demanding. So hungry against his. Groaning obscenely against his lips and sliding across his tongue, trying to draw saliva and come and taste back into his mouth until Kurt feels himself getting light-headed and pulls away sucking in breath and they're left staring at each other while their hips keep rocking because they can't stop.

Blaine manages to say around a smile and hitched breath, "God, Kurt."

And it makes Kurt's laugh and lift, just a little, just a little less contact so he can look down at where Blaine's bare cock in pressing against the cotton-covered outline of his own before he misses the rough friction and presses his hips back down.

"We need to go," Blaine mumbles, lips catching over Kurt's tongue then licking up his chin and it feels so dirty. "Back to my house," Blaine tries again, but his hands are grabbing at the back of Kurt's shirt, scrunching it slowly up as his hands move down until they skim over hot skin and then find the waistband of his pants, thumbs tucking under and tracking around to the front, rubbing back and forth across the soft skin stretched taut over Kurt's belly.

He pulls back from the kiss long enough to stare hard at Kurt and Kurt knows he's still searching for doubt, still not sure that it wasn't a freak out because this is all too much too soon. And so Kurt huffs and kisses Blaine hard, teeth around his bottom lip drawing back, tugging at him, "I just don't want to accidentally say something that freaks you out," he murmurs.

Blaine's breath catches and Kurt's hands slide lower, knock Blaine's out of the way and are pushing his cotton pants down as far as he can with his legs spread wide over Blaine's. Hooking them under his cock and then rocking forward and up and sliding his length alongside Blaine's and they both moan high-pitched and embarrassing, eyes locked and then slipping to watch the shadowed movement.

"What could you possibly say that could freak me out?" Blaine wonders aloud.

Kurt just huffs again, letting his mouth slide to Blaine's neck as he shuffles closer, searching for more friction, wondering how long it's polite to wait before he starts grinding down desperately, racing for release. "I just don't want to wreck this," he concedes, and then groans, and he really, really, doesn't want to wreck this.

Blaine sees the red in his cheeks and the way his eyes flick away and he wonders whether this is Kurt over-reacting about having impure thoughts, thinks it's not, thinks Kurt's been thinking things beyond 'impure thoughts' and his heart races, his hips buck, to think Kurt might have ideas beyond his own. But Kurt's still blushing, just a little panicked, his hips held a little static as he waits.

And Blaine slides low in his seat, making their breath catch and Kurt's eyes flash and then he arches up and captures the hand Kurt was using to try to keep balance, a little distance. He draws his hand to his mouth as their bodies press closer, skims his lips from the back of a wrist to the tip of a finger and then licks down across a palm. He's always really liked Kurt's hands but has never been able to do this.

He sinks his mouth down around index and middle fingers, slides them into his mouth and tries desperately not to imagine the taste of his come, Kurt's, there. Just boy and salt and skin. Lets his mind fly to the idea of sinking his mouth down around Kurt's cock because it's been an idea that's plagued him for months. And he moans.

Kurt just stares, breath held, watching, feeling a tongue between his fingers and all hot, wet heat, light friction over his knuckles. And Blaine's cock caught against his, nothing moving, just more and more pressure and warmth. "You know what I think about?" Blaine whispers, cheeks red, eyelashes low as he blinks slowly.

Kurt barely makes a whimper of entreaty.

"How one day you'll tell me everything you're thinking," Blaine whispers, head ducking to Kurt's shoulders, drawing in a rough breath there. "It won't be awkward because we'll be so good at it..." he trails off and wonders if he's said the right thing.

Kurt just arches, stomachs pressing, chests against each other and the windows, he's realized have started to fog up. He stares at him. "Everything though?" he asks, both of them blushing.

"Yeah," Blaine says, leaning it to press a contrastingly chaste kiss to his mouth. "We'll get so comfortable you can tell me every single dirty, filthy fantasy that you've ever had."

Kurt blushes and slides his eyes down, faced then with where it's just skin on skin and all too visceral. God he wants to just let go.

"I think about this as well, though," Blaine offers, his hands moving from where they've been splayed across Kurt's thighs to his waist, holding him with a tight grip there. "And more than this. But this. A lot."

Kurt's eyes flash and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and stops pushing down on the throb in his belly, in his balls, lets it coil higher and tighter as he asks, "This?"

And Blaine's fingers tighten and pull him down, his hips snapping up and grinding roughly, pressing against and forceful and repeating as Blaine lets his hips thrust hard again and again against Kurt's straddling body. And Kurt moans out something obscene as he feels it resonate through him and make him want to beg and babble.

Then Blaine stills. "This," he whispers, arching up and kissing Kurt again, hips starting a slower heavy roll into Kurt's and Kurt just groans to feel the tremble in Blaine's abdomen, the tenseness in his thighs and fuck, he wants this.

"Just..." and Kurt's breath catches and his hand untangles from Blaine's hair and runs harsh down his front. "Back to your house? Practice?" he asks, a joke that belies the seriousness.

Blaine just breathes out, "We're gonna get so damn good at this," and rocks up again.

Kurt's hand finds where their cocks are still pressed together, rutting slow and holding back on that last inevitable fall. Blaine stares at him, brown eyes with pupils blown wide, as his fingers find Blaine's cock and wrap around, stroke in what he thinks is the same way he touches himself and listens to the way Blaine's breath catches and then slips from his lips in a whine.

Then Kurt's hand goes around the both cocks, fingers stretching to contain them and force rough honest friction as both hips stutter and the cocks in his hand rub. Then Blaine growls and leans forward, lips at the place where his jaw joins his neck, kissing, sucking, then whispering, just a second of caught breath, nervousness, Kurt thinks, "You gonna come for me?"

And Kurt can't help but squeeze tighter, stroke awkwardly over both of them and groan deep in his throat as his head falls forward and he whispers, sounding—but not at all—scandalized, "Blaine!" And then, seeing Blaine's eyes wide, just a little worry there, awkward. Fuck. "Blaine...yes," he mumbles. God, he's never going to not want to talk and Blaine's telling him he wants him to. "I am going to come so fucking hard," he thinks and then mumbles out against his neck.

He feels Blaine rock up, his hand slipping free from the momentum and almost losing balance and moving back in to grab again, to stroke—god he wants to get Blaine off.

But Blaine shoves him back, awkward and haphazard and it's a mess of limbs; Kurt's about to tell him to stop being ridiculous when Blaine's hands find him and push him to the side, into the seat, splay him out with legs either side, stretched and back pressed to the seat with Blaine's hands all over him. And Blaine bends and wills his muscles to accommodate, ducks his head with dark eyes staring at Kurt until the last second and then an arched eyebrow and words whispered—Fuck, that's what that feels like—across Kurt's dick.

"Say yes?"

Kurt just nods and garbles out a 'Yes' on his second try. "Yes," he says a little too loudly then and Blaine's mouth sinks down, hot wet pressure Kurt cannot believe and oh, fuck, that's embarrassing: he's right there on edge. And Blaine's tongue is tracing the veins up the underside of his cock, one of his hands pressed to his balls, caressing harshly and then wrapped around the base as he sucks. Fucking hell. He sucks and looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes with a grin about his stretched wide lips and Kurt yelps and thrusts up, sliding more of his length into Blaine's mouth but only making him smile wider.

"Blaine," he mumbles, warning, surprised, everything. "Blaine, you're gonna..." he trails off and blushes and Blaine pulls back with a lick to the head of his cock. Jesus.

"What, Kurt?" he asks, one of his hands snaking down to his own crotch and Kurt can't quite see what he's doing and why, why, are they doing this in a ridiculously cramped car?

But shit. "You're gonna make me come," Kurt says too loudly.

And Blaine sucks hard around the head, tongue flicking back and forth and then pulls up and presses his body down close, a hand still between them, wrapped around tight and stroking as his mouth finds Kurt's and his tongue slides inside, setting up the same tempo as his hand and Kurt's arching into the touch, keening into the mouth over his and his hands are grasping hard at the skin beneath Blaine's shirt.

And there's a moment of clarity, of realizing if he comes like this it will be between them, over them, messy and sticky and he doesn't care at all because they're going back to Blaine's house to be alone.

And then Blaine's other hand finds his ass and rocks his hips up for him, hard against him and Kurt's gone without knowing it, rambling incoherent and dirty pleas into Blaine's mouth, feeling him smile against him as Blaine's hand works him over, faster and tighter and dragging his orgasm out, pulling away only as the last tremors race through Kurt's body and staring down at the splatter of come across his stomach, Kurt's stomach, streaked over his hand, both cocks.

Just drips of pearly white and it's such a fucking turn on to see that Blaine mumbles, "Please," before he realises how close he is.

Kurt's hand snakes down, around, as his hips move back, sitting up straighter, and he palms roughly at Blaine's cock, stroking only a few times and then Blaine doesn't curb the sound, the growling moan of desperate release as he arches up and pulls Kurt's hand away at the wrist, tries to hold still and watch, Kurt as well, as he trembles through his muscles, tenses then lets go and comes seconds after his boyfriend with hips rocking in air, knees bent into Kurt's, but barely touching again. Both sets of eyes staring as he shudders at the electricity of it and spurts come across Kurt's belly, his cock, his hand, gravity drawing it down. And Blaine should feel a jolt of worry that that will be too much. Watching and coming, patterns on his boyfriend's skin and Blaine obviously getting off on it. But Kurt's mouth hangs open and his eyes stay dark and Blaine doesn't worry at all.

They both hold their breath, though, barely seconds they hang there, bodies shifting as their muscles tremble and their hearts race. And then Blaine take a rattling breath and grins wolfishly, his cheeks red, sweat running in rivulets down his neck and his eyes still wide. He hesitates, perhaps considers, another second, and Kurt wants to ask why but doesn't and then Blaine's drawing back a little, running two fingers across Kurt's stomach, drawing, Kurt thinks with a ridiculous thrill, a cursive 'B' and then holding his raised, come-slicked fingers, between them.

Another second, Kurt's eyes wide but his lips parting and then Blaine's fingers are in his mouth, pressing as his body falls and he clamors closer, hotter, pulls his fingers free from where Kurt's sucking insistent, instinctive and kisses him hard on the mouth, groaning into it as his body sags and his cock twitches at the too-muchness of it all. He keeps kissing, tongue in Kurt's mouth, tasting, convincing, until Kurt groans back and sucks hard on his tongue, breaking away breathless with his head turned and his eyes closed, but grinning.

Then Blaine kisses him on the cheek, just a press of lips and exhaled breath that still sounds rasping and caught. Then another kiss on his jaw, the same, and Kurt can feel him leaning back, turns his head and doesn't get a chance to say anything because Blaine says, "Come home with me."

Which was the plan. And Blaine looks at him with pleading eyes, mouth stumbling over more words as he tries to keep the moment but also get his pants back up again. He kind of thinks he should find a tissue but also kind of doesn't want to. "Stay with me and then we'll do breakfast tomorrow and then you can come back to mine as much as you want, all week." He thinks. "We can say we're having coffee and going to movies and shopping but, not. We have all week." He smiles, shy and hopeful and a little bit dirty and Kurt just nods dumbly because that is exactly, exactly, what he wants.

He starts putting together ideas of what he wants to do first. What he wants to tell Blaine about. But Blaine's scrambling off him, fixing his shirt, his pants, and pushing open the side door. There's a moment where Kurt stares after him, too much going on in his head. And then Blaine looks back and offers him a hand but also lets his gaze wander down.

And Kurt's yanking his shirt back down, pulling the waistband of his pants away from his body and up and he feels gross, covered in sweat and come but there's something more there. Something not gross. He looks idly around for a tissue. But that would entail cleaning up in front of Blaine. And they're not quite there yet.

So he deals with the cooling sticky mess and climbs out of the car, hand sliding into Blaine's, both still hot and slick, and then Blaine quietly closes the car door behind him.

He stands there, barefoot in his pyjamas and doesn't even consider going back inside for clothes. He's borrowed them from Blaine before, everything a little too tight, too short on him, but smelling of Blaine. Maybe he won't need clothes.

Blaine coughs and grins and angles his head to where he's opened the passenger side door and is waiting patiently for Kurt to let go of his hand and get inside.

Smiling back, Kurt just breathes in a breath once more and tries not to blush. Always trying not to blush. But this is Blaine, in half done-up jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt, his hair curly and messed beyond anything gel can contain. And looking at him with a lopsided smile, waiting eyes and his hand in his. And they just got off together. Twice. And they're going back to his house to do it again. And again.

And get ridiculously terribly good at it.

Blaine said he wants to hear all Kurt's ideas. And Kurt, right now, has at least a half-dozen he really wants to share.

Another loud sigh and Blaine smiles wider and asks, "Kurt?"

Kurt blushes, caught thinking again, but purses his lips and arches an eyebrow, "What?"

Blaine tugs on his hand. "Get in the car," he whispers, "Or I'm pushing you back into the backseat and we will never make it to my house."

And Kurt laughs and does exactly as he's told.