Fic: Good Morning
Summary: Sexy times in the morning for Kurt and Blaine…maybe a few weeks post-ep 5 (this is now my frame of reference). Kind of a sequel to Hold.
Spoilers: Loose ones for ep 5, I suppose. Alludes to it.
A/N: Written right after I wrote Hold. Kind of follows from there. Except that's the start and this is the end and I, or you, have to fill in the gaps. Mostly this is just smut. SMUT. ALL THE SMUT.
This is by far the best sex dream Blaine has ever, ever had. But there's something tugging at his semi-consciousness. Something telling him to calm the fuck down or hate himself forever. Shame? Guilt? But then everything else is telling him wet and hot and tight. Teasing and licking and god, why did he ever think getting himself off with his hand was adequate? Mouths are so fucking amazing. Why people waste time eating, talking, breathing…
He jolts properly awake and he knows where that shame, the guilt, was coming from: Kurt's here. Sleeping over. Parents out of town again and Kurt's…
His hips ricochet off the bed in stuttering useless movements and he lets out a gravelly groan as his cock slides free of hot-wet-tight and he unscrews his eyes. Trembling hands grab at the sheet that's still at mid-waist but draped over his boyfriend's form, and he flicks it full off.
Then groans again at the sight, Kurt looking up at him, hunched over, on his knees, fingers of one hand curling back around Blaine's cock as he tries to gauge Blaine's reaction, a smile tugging at his lips but uncertainty making his brow crease. He licks over the head, flat, broad pink tongue, just a slightly different color, and Blaine arches and presses his head back into the pillow.
"Okay?" Kurt asks, breath over Blaine's cock. Blaine doesn't say anything because he's sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to try to stop from saying something obscene, something too much, something embarrassing. His hands are clenched in the sheet beneath him but he wants to bury them in Kurt's hair.
Another lick, up the side, over that vein—the vein he fucking told Kurt about—flicking at the place where the breadth of the shaft widens into the head. They've only done this a half dozen times but Kurt is amazing at it, world-class cock-sucker in the making; Blaine's never said it but he keeps accidently thinking it.
Kurt's pulling back to talk: "I know we joked about it last time so I just thought…why not?"
Then his other hand comes up to sooth over Blaine's belly, finds it hot and taut and sweaty, down to press his fingers through the dense dark hair at the base of Blaine's cock. He's still not sucking, god Blaine just wants him to be sucking, finishing him off. God…
"How long," Blaine forces out from between teeth still trying to bite down at his own lips, his tongue, "How long before I woke up?"
Kurt's brow shifts again, more uncertainty and Blaine needs to touch. He threads his fingers into Kurt's hair but doesn't pull him down, not closer, won't force, just keeps his hands there, holding, willing Kurt to keep going.
Then he remembers he can actually say that. After that first rubbish time where discussion did not work, they're getting obscenely good at talking. They joked about good morning blowjobs last week but they were both a little bit serious and now here's Kurt, giving him one, and worrying because he's misreading the signs.
Blaine takes a breath but it rattles, then he moans, because he can. "I'm just really close, is all," he says and Kurt's face melts into a grin as he licks again. "I love this," Blaine mumbles.
Then he smiles around a gasp and a giggle because he feels turned on all over but only just woken up. "I'm so happy you made us wait," he says. "You said no that one time and—" Kurt licks around, tongue messy, then sucks the head into his mouth and Blaine whines high. Kurt arches an eyebrow at him and looks so amazing with his lips stretched red and wet around Blaine's cock but his eyes teasing, inquisitive.
"I'd say sorry again but you won't let me," Blaine says between gasps, Kurt's tongue rough for a second, a stronger suck as his hand starts working the base. Blaine's head falling back, then craning up to watch some more. "So, oh god—" his whole stomach just ripples as electricity races his spine, Kurt's other hand on his balls, just holding them, working them in his hand with light touches. "God, thank you. Because now we're amazing at it. Always, always—" Two fingers press back, just behind his balls and he bucks.
"Kurt!" he warns, loud and high-pitched, fingers in his hair tightening just beyond where Blaine would think appropriate and Kurt sucks harder, works his hand faster and then slides his mouth down as low as he can, sucks, shifts his tongue, hums something.
"Kurt!" Blaine calls, one hand pressing down, the other pulling up and that's really fucking stupid.
And then Kurt's pulling up and away and off and sliding up him, a knee hitting dully at a hip and that kind of hurt but then Kurt's hand, stroking Blaine's cock, and his tongue in Blaine's mouth, tasting of peppermint and kissing him hard.
Blaine tries to say his name again but it's swallowed and then he's arching, pressing hard and Kurt's hand slides away and all Blaine can feel is skin and muscle over him. All hot and sliding and he shakes and tenses and comes with a growl. Hips bumping up and hard into Kurt's and his cock caught between them, sliding too easily and fuck this feels perfect, amazing, all the things it always should. He wants to just wrap himself up in this and do it forever and by god, he's going to try. His hips rock again and again, spasming, little thrusts and then stilling as the friction is even less, come spilt over his stomach and he feels it sliding over Kurt's.
Kurt kisses him until Blaine whimpers into his mouth and Blaine's fingers untangle from his hair. Then Kurt's raising up, hips still pressed but Kurt above Blaine, hands besides his head, arms straight and holding him up. And Kurt hard between them, Blaine wriggling because he really wants to do that again and again but he also really want to lie there and bask and it's all way too much for someone who was asleep three minutes ago.
Blaine huffs out a breath and smiles wide. "Good morning to you, too."
Kurt laughs at him and falls back in for another kiss. Then he whispers, "Not quite yet it isn't," and rolls away and onto his back, bounces off the bed and stands there, stretching.
He still blushes, when he's naked in front of Blaine. It's only been a few weeks since everything went racing forward into physicality and lust. But he likes the way Blaine's eyes go wide and he's invigorated with bouncing, desperate energy. So he stands there and stretches, feels a little stupid but a lot turned on and is rather, stupidly, bizarrely proud of his cock standing hard and red out from him.
"Coming?" he offers a hand down to Blaine and lets himself—blushing hard, goddamnit—look down at the mess over Blaine's stomach.
Blaine just grins again and silently thinks this is the best morning ever and then can't resist, even as he's grabbing Kurt's hand and pulling himself up and following him into the bathroom. "Already have, actually."