DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy. Title from "Moan" by Cute Is What Aim For.
Warnings are: seeeeeeex. That's about it. This is super short, obviously, and my excuse to write as much as I possibly can about this before next month.

For those of you who read Silent Dreams, the next chapter should be up late this week, depending on my schedule.

Reviewers, my only thoughts for you sometimes boil down to afdlkhglajkg. Truly. I love you all.

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"Wow," Blaine breathes. "I'm really going to make you come." It's said wide-eyed and slack-jawed, with Blaine propped up over Kurt, over the spread expanse of his pale, pale skin and toned muscles and hard cock, fuck. Kurt blinks, surprised because it's true, it's what he'd hoped to get out of this in the first place, and surprised because this isn't really something he'd ever imagined Blaine saying. There had been times when they had been close, voices scratchy and minds hazy as bodies moved of their own accord. They'd stopped, aching and wanting, but they'd stopped, wanting to make it more special than just stealing ten minutes frotting fully-clothed before someone was to walk into the house.

"Well, when you put it that way…" Kurt replies with a laugh that turns out more nervous than amused. He's painfully aware of how exposed and hard he is, that Blaine is. Their clothes are discarded on the floor carelessly, strewn in a trail from the moment they'd shut and locked Kurt's door and had only wanted naked, naked, naked, Blaine's mouth hot on Kurt's neck and Kurt's hands gripping hard onto Blaine's ass as they grappled and fought until they landed on the bed in a tangle of need and twisted limbs, their combined voices gasping and churning in the silence of their room, Kurt's back arching in near-painful ways as Blaine slides his mouth over his cock for the first time.

"No, no," Blaine backpedals, eyebrows drawing in and then up. "It's just… you're so beautiful that I can't believe that you're all mine to do this to." He rests his weight on one arm as he pushes Kurt's hair off of his forehead, running the back of his hand down a sweat-sticky cheek. "I never really… saw myself having this opportunity with anyone, let alone someone like you." Kurt's eyes close and he sighs in contentment, reveling in the light touch, the sappy truth to Blaine's words.

"I'm glad I'm all yours to do this to," he replies. And he is. He's never wanted anything more than this exact moment, the moment when the disguises and costumes would be off and it would just be Kurt and Blaine laid bare for the other to see and observe, touch and taste. He wants to feel Blaine in him, moving hard and fast as he bends him in half and pushes his thighs wider until Kurt's moaning from the stretch and burn, but this is Blaine and he wants to make their first time as gentle as possible.

"You know we don't have to do this, right?" Blaine's eyes are serious now, hooded dark with arousal but also soft with his ever-present need to make sure that Kurt's okay, that he's getting everything he needs.

"I'm aware," Kurt replies, wriggling his hips and pressing upward, seeking out the long, thick length of Blaine's cock, slick and hot when it slides over sensitized skin. "I'm also aware that we're at the point when stopping would be a little counterproductive and a lot painful."

"I just mean—"

"Blaine." Kurt's voice stops him before he can go any further. "I want this, I do. Believe me. I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't want it to go this far. The other night… that was just, well. Bad timing, I guess. I don't have a lot of good experiences with you being drunk, so how was I to know you didn't think that I was Rachel or something?"

"I recall—barely—groping for your dick, so unless Rachel's got one of those… "

"All right, all right. I get it," Kurt sighs. His hands find the back of Blaine's strong, thick neck, glazed with sweat, and pulls him down to attach their mouths, sloppy and loving and dirty somehow all at once. Kurt's tongue licks along Blaine's lush bottom lip, already kiss- and cocksucking-swelled. He's excited, nervous, terrified and he feels Blaine rocking against him, cock sliding along the crease of thigh-meets-groin.

"I want you to fuck me," Kurt says after a few minutes of heavy breathing. He hooks a leg around Blaine's.

"I thought that was the plan," Blaine gasps. "You know, getting naked and all."

"Saying it," Kurt says, "makes it real. And I still have trouble believing that any of this is real."

Blaine kisses him, then, swift and hard. His lips linger over the smooth skin of Kurt's cheek, trailing wetly along the curve of his jaw and the slight arch of his cheekbone. "I'm all real, Dove," is said hot into Kurt's ear and Kurt shivers at the wisps of Blaine's breath, at his voice curling and twining around his head like an invisible snake, coil, wisp of smoke. It's alluring and taunting and heady. "I'm all here for you, baby."

Kurt shivers again. "I never thought I'd like hearing that." Kisses Blaine again, like he's the only source of oxygen in the room, on the rest of the planet. Explains, "Someone calling me baby," as he loops an arm loose around Blaine's neck, trailing his fingers in teasing touches along the sweaty skin of Blaine's well-muscled back. "I always felt like it was playing to my feminine qualities."

That was still a sore spot and, like several of the scars on Kurt's back, would only either fade or disappear with time.

"I have never met more of a man in my life," Blaine says, and oh, god, "Boner kill," Kurt replies with a wince, although inside he preens.

"I'm serious," Blaine says, letting his hand run down the length of Kurt's body until he reaches his cock. He wraps his hand around it, hot and heavy and throbbing, and Kurt moans, cants his hips up and closes his eyes. "This? All man, no woman in sight."

Everything is so easy between them that it should almost be a problem, but all Kurt does is push out a laugh and swat at Blaine's shoulder, breath hitching when Blaine slides his hand up, then down. "I think this will end a lot better with you inside me."

Blaine laughs and removes his hand, as per instruction, even though Kurt makes a noise like he's been wounded. "You're exceedingly eager, slut."

It's out and immediately Blaine's eyes round even further and he's saying, "Oh, oh shit. Kurt, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

And Kurt kisses him. His body is wired and he can't sit still, feels like he's on the edge of everything without really being there. He says, "It's okay, really," while Blaine trembles below his fingertips in embarrassment and apprehension. It's not that bad, and maybe kind of hot because now maybe all Kurt can imagine is Blaine fucking him quick and fast, whispering those filthy, dirty things that Kurt had always found embarrassing before. How did he find them embarrassing before?

"You need to stop watching those movies," Kurt says, a little breathless. Blaine splutters incoherence, words strung together that resemble I do not but Kurt doesn't buy it in the least. There's so much he wants to say, things like we could maybe watch them together sometime, you know, for experience and practice and I can be your slut, I can be anything.

Because this is Blaine.

He doesn't say anything. He'll wait until next time, when he knows what it feels like to be filled and stretched.

"Come on," Kurt says, the leg still locked around Blaine's nudging slightly. "How about those earlier plans?" he nips at the skin just below Blaine's ear, feeling and hearing the throaty moan at the same time. He sucks a mark, dark and wet and angry-looking.

Five minutes and a few awkward fumbles later finds Kurt with his legs spread and a blush racing like wildfire down his torso, the first of Blaine's fingers circling his hole gently before it's pushing in. "Kurt," Blaine says with reverence as his finger slides two knuckles deep, past the rings of muscles to heat and tight silkiness inside. "You're—"

"Don't even," Kurt says, hands clenching at the blanket, body still adjusting to the strange intrusion. He's just started thinking that maybe he should have tried this before he and Blaine agreed to sex, but there's no turning back now. "I know you're going to say 'beautiful' and I'm going to say that your ideas of beauty are strangely morbid."

Blaine withdraws his finger, applies more lube and slips two in. "I won't say it," Blaine says as Kurt flutters and clenches around him, "but I'm still going to think it."

Kurt rolls his eyes, groans when Blaine slips three fingers deep and stretches. His hand strays to his cock, teasing and stroking over the head, gathering the sticky, slick pre-come as Blaine works his fingers harder, Kurt's hips pushing down and off in rhythm.

"Okay, okay." Kurt draws his legs up, bending at the knee and spreading as far as he can go. "Blaine."

Blaine's fingers slips free again and he's fumbling for the condom, ripping open the foil and sliding it on with shaking hands. Their eyes meet, fear and love and excitement reflected in blue and hazel. "Are you ready?" Blaine asks softly, cupping Kurt's cheek with his free hand.

Kurt nods, covering Blaine's hand with his own. "I love you, Blaine."

Blaine settles between Kurt's legs and Kurt hooks his knees over Blaine's shoulders. Shifts, settles and Blaine grasps his cock, aligns himself. "I love you, too, Kurt." He pushes in.

He's way bigger than three fingers, fuck. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, Blaine," Kurt keens. It burns and hurts but Kurt wants this more than he's ever wanted anything. He squeezes his eyes shut and does his best to fight back the few tears that prick at his eyelids.

Blaine sucks in a breath, holds it and exhales yoga-like a few seconds later. "I could get used to hearing my name—ahh—being said like that."

"Shut up, you smarmy bastard," Kurt replies, tipping his head back as Blaine sinks deeper. "If I didn't love you so much, Blaine, I swear."

"I only accept swearing in the form of my name and higher deities," Blaine snarks back, mouth curving up one side as he finally slides in all the way, the grin quickly slackening to a look of pure pleasure as Kurt clenches and relaxes slightly around him, breath stuttered and a little labored.

"Jesus," Blaine murmurs, trembling like a Thoroughbred at the gate. Sweat is already glistening at his brow, on the slope of his shoulders, prickling under the weight of Kurt's knees. When they're finally flush together Kurt forces himself to relax fully, breathe and soak up the feeling of a heavy fullness, of needing Blaine to move. His hand finds Blaine's curls, sweat-damp and slightly matted where his fingers had combed roughly through it earlier, and he presses their lips together.

"I love you." Blaine says it differently when they part, more profoundly, a tone Kurt's never heard before but can only be described as pure love. Radiating from the two of them is the kind of emotion Kurt had always thought was just a fantasy, just something coined by novelists to give the hopelessly and eternally lonely something to hope for in their bleak, dreary days. Now he knows that it's true and that it comes in the form of Blaine Anderson.

Blaine, his perfect boyfriend, his world and light and the open door to his caged canary. Blaine, who moves so carefully, so slowly that this session falls way short of "fucking." Kurt clutches, moans and whines when the pleasure stretches just this side of pain. Blaine grunts as he carefully drives his hips forward, mouth dropped open slightly and arms quaking, eyes slitted.

It doesn't last long, no matter how much Kurt wishes they could be attached like this, as one being, one entity, just two arms and two legs, one beating heart pounding, pounding. It doesn't last, and way too soon Kurt is pushing back frantically, neck strained back as far as the pillows allow as he grabs for Blaine, catches nails on smooth skin, toned forearms and scratchy-soft hair.

Someone's inside of him, fucking him. His knees are pressed to his chest, the air between them humid and smelling of boy. Blaine pulls out too far, cock slipping free of Kurt's body and they fumble awkwardly again for a minute or two while Blaine lines up again and pushes in quickly, almost roughly. He's panting as he presses his forehead to Kurt's briefly, murmuring words Kurt can't quite make out as he thrusts deep.

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt says, keens and whines as he pulls him down for a sloppy, deep kiss, breathing much too hard. "Baby, oh god," and he doesn't know when he turned into this, maybe it was Blaine initiating it, maybe being in love does this to him. Their bodies are too close, too hot and sticky and sweaty as Kurt wraps a hand around his cock, fingers loose and uncoordinated as his torso is bent, jostled with Blaine's steady thrusts.

He comes between them seconds later when Blaine changes angles and the sudden rush is too much; he moans, high and reedy, his hand wrapped loosely around his cock, thumb on the spot below the head, and he just came in front of his boyfriend, on his boyfriend. It doesn't take Blaine long to follow with a low groan that Kurt will definitely be imagining from now on.

Blaine gets up on shaky-newborn legs, ties the condom off, tosses it, and, sated, falls next to Kurt, training his gaze on the ceiling as their breathing evens out. A quick glance at each other with timid eyes, minds wondering the exact same thing: was I good enough for him? A few tense minutes of teenage awkwardness until they speak at the same time.

"You were amazing—"

"I've never felt so good—"

A pause, then laughter, a huge weight lifted off their shoulders. Their hands find each other, fingers slotting together in the spaces. Kurt has come on his torso, cooling thick and heavy, but he doesn't want to move, not with Blaine pressed against his side, all miles of tanned skin and toned muscles and easy smile.

"I'm glad we waited," Kurt says to the silence of the room, the steady tick-tick of the clock. "I can't believe that it's been almost a year since we first met."

"I can't believe you remember that." Blaine shakes his head fondly. Kurt wouldn't expect him to understand: after all, he didn't open his eyes fully until many, many months later.

Kurt leans over and kisses him, slow and languid and sweet like molasses. He traces Blaine's cheek with gentle fingertips, maps out a dark sideburn and a strong jaw. "The best year of my life," he says, a little smile on his face, blue eyes clear like the Caribbean.

Blaine pulls him down for a kiss now, a series of short and quick and staccato ones. Kurt can feel his grin and it makes him smile, spreading a warmth through his body as he presses closer, nuzzling his head into the crook of Blaine's neck. "Mine, too," he replies, curling a hand around Kurt's wrist. "I wouldn't change anything."