Title: Ebb And Flow

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Twenty-something Kurt and Blaine in a hotel in a bigger than usual shower. Long, drawn out sex that's mostly just Kurt being controlled and loving driving Blaine crazy. Edging.

Spoilers: Nope

Words: 8400

A/N: This was written, bit by bit on tumblr in a free-writing exercise and it's ended up good enough to post, I think. auburndammit prompted "Something involving a long luxurious shower would seem appropriate!" since I've just had one in my lovely new hotel and was boasting about it and this just made sense. She also provided the title for this fic. This is smutty smut at its smuttiest for me. PS. If you are not following me on tumblr, you should. doonarose. Come find me!

"You didn't have to stay, you know."

The door clicks shut behind Blaine, his suitcase pushed ahead of him, catching at Kurt's ankle and making him wince. He refuses to scowl though as he says, "It was fine. It was…a very nice lobby."

Blaine just runs a hand through his hair and throws his glasses onto the desk. He leaves his case in the doorway and Kurt standing beside it with a look on his face. Blaine faceplants onto the bed a moment later and lies there motionless. Kurt doesn't move but he looks to his left, into the bathroom, nods his approval and then surveys the colouring of the room: dark red curtains, chocolate coloured wood furnishings, white sheets. There's a feature wall behind the bed, one of the city's landmarks in black and white. Very nice, he thinks. And then he turns back to await his boyfriend's return to consciousness.

"Seriously," Blaine says as he rolls onto his back. "Tomorrow go out and explore. I feel terrible with you standing around waiting. I don't even know why you came." And he doesn't. It should be a weekend of unwinding for Kurt at home, not following Blaine across the country to another goddamned conference. He'd told Kurt that, but Kurt had insisted.

"I will," Kurt soothes, his small carry on lifted onto the baggage stand beside the wardrobe and the zipper pulled open. "It was only four hours today, I was fine." And he was. He'd read a book in the conference hotel's lobby and looked after their bags and smiled at the receptionists.

"I don't know why you insisted on coming, is all," Blaine says, finally sitting up, rolling his shoulders, arching his back.

"Because I love you," Kurt says, slipping forward away from his bag, knees pressing into the edge of the bed when Blaine's legs open to give him room. He runs a hand down Blaine's cheek. "And we don't see enough of each other as it is."

Blaine groans and Kurt shushes him with a finger to his lips. "We have tonight. We have tomorrow night—"

"That conference dinner is going to run late and you really don't have to come to it."

Kurt shushes him again, wrists crossing behind his neck. "I get to wake up with you tomorrow and the next day."

Blaine grins and gives in to Kurt's charm, his eyes tired already but looking less so when the smile reaches them. He angles his head up and Kurt leans down, pressing their lips together in a slow, gentle kiss that says all the snapping about taxis and flights and bags from today is forgotten, on both sides. They keep kissing until Kurt's hands start to inch into Blaine's hair, his tongue starts tracing, seeking entrance.

Then Blaine pulls away, a little groan and an apologetic look. "I need to shower," he says. And he does. Travel does not sit well with Blaine. Not like it does with Kurt. One of them always comes out looking like an expert jetsetter, the other bedraggled and tired and sweaty.

"Yup," Kurt says, immediately stepping back. "We do."

Arching an eyebrow, Blaine tilts his head in question but Kurt just arches an eyebrow back and lifts his hands to start unbuttoning his shirt. Blaine's smiling again and sliding off the bed and back down the little entrance hall to their studio room, peeking into the bathroom.

"That's an awfully big shower," he says, looking into the still-dim room; he can make out the white washbasin, the mirror above it. Black tiles on the floor and ceiling and, in front of him, the shower, separated by a meter of glass and still with another meter to move in and out of the space. Silver fixings, hand-held shower head. Two meters of shower, a meter wide. He searches for the light switch but doesn't find it.

"Get your clothes off," Kurt whispers from behind him and when he looks back, his boyfriend's there in just his boxer briefs, hands dropping to Blaine's belt to help him acquiesce.

"Demanding," Blaine risks saying, his own hands slipping straight to Kurt's hips, under the waistband and pushing down.

Kurt's breath catches near Blaine's ear at the friction over his already half-hard cock. "Hey," he protests.

Blaine just ignores him, pushing the material down to mid-thigh and then letting it fall to the floor. Then Kurt's naked in front of him and Blaine wants nothing more than to drop to his knees and sink his mouth down over him.

Somehow, Kurt knows. "No." He yanks on Blaine's belt, keeping him upright and finally getting it undone before sliding it roughly out of the loops, throwing it down the hall towards the desk. His hands start on the button, slipping it undone, then pulling the zipper down. Blaine's pants drop, then his underwear and then he's trying to toe off his shoes and almost tripping and Kurt's laughing at him and dropping to a crouch.

Blaine just stares down at the way his hair looks all swept up and back from above, at the perfect arch of his back. Kurt takes his time, it seems, to undo the laces of Blaine's shoes and pull them loose. A hand on Blaine's calf getting him to lift and then Blaine's hand on his shoulder, steadying as Kurt tugs shoe and sock, pants and briefs, from one leg and then repeats the motion on the other. It's strangely intimate. Then Kurt's standing up straight in front of him and loosening his tie, pulling the top two buttons undone and guiding his shirt and tie off over his head.

"Need this shirt again?" Kurt thinks to ask.

Blaine shakes his head and Kurt balls the material up and throws it to the side.

Then they're naked and grinning and Blaine's walking Kurt back into the bathroom, a hand stretching out, searching for the lights.


The moment's broken and Kurt's laughing at him as he breaks eye contact to stare accusingly at the wall. No light switch. He steps back out to look at the wall on the other side. No light switch. He finds one under the mirror above the sink but that's not for the down lights and he wants the down lights. Kurt just slips, room still dim, past the glass divider. He pulls the showerhead free and turns the water on.

He hates not knowing instinctively how to get the water to the perfect temperature in hotels.

"Shit," Blaine swears, still searching, walking out the bathroom door and flicking at switches that are turning on lights everywhere but in the bathroom. Then the room's flooded with white light and Kurt's smiling. "Well why the fuck is it there?" Blaine grumbles, moving back into the room, shutting the door behind him and staring, hands on hips, at Kurt through the glass.

"It's a big shower," he says again, lips quirking upwards. He slips in behind Kurt, sure to press up against his back despite the ample space. His hands skim hot skin and settle over Kurt's stomach and start to draw patterns there while Kurt keeps fiddling with the shower settings to get the spray just right.

Kurt breathes out through his nose when the water hits that perfect, magical heat and he waits to see that it doesn't go beyond. Then he's turning in Blaine's arms, handing him the showerhead and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"I'll be back," he whispers and then slides out of the shower, opens the door and disappears.

Kurt slips back in behind him seconds later and in one hand he's got a bar of soap and in the other he's juggling what Blaine guesses is shampoo and conditioner.

Having reattached the showerhead above them, Blaine leans his head forward and lets the water cascade over his already soaked hair, he straightens, reaches out and slides one hand over Kurt's, the bar of soap between their fingers, and pulls him under. He watches, back close to the wall, as Kurt's eyes close automatically and he steps under the spray, face turned up, the hot water soaking him quickly.

"Not just sex?" Blaine wonders aloud, meaning the soap and shampoo, but still smiling.

"No," Kurt tells him. "Relax." And then he steps forward, into Blaine's space and the two bottles drop to the tiles and are kicked to the side while the soap remains between their hands. But Kurt kisses him, mouth open and tongue pressing into his mouth and licking up behind his teeth as he grins.

There's a moment's shock at the full body contact, the press of Kurt against him from knee's knocking to mouths suddenly fused and somewhere between, both cocks growing hard quickly. Kurt kisses him like he hasn't kissed him in weeks even though they kissed this morning before they left. He licks and laps across his tongue and then pulls back to suck at his bottom lip and trace down to his chin and kiss there, shifting again to suck at his jaw.

Then he's leaning away, hips still pressed intermittently together until the last possible moment when he steps back and leaves the spray on Blaine's back and space between them. His hand drops away, taking the dark red soap and starting to roll it between his palms, working it into a lather.

Blaine can already smell it, it's the one he loves from that shop, the one that smells of strawberries and costs a fortune but leaves his skin feeling stretched clean and leaves Kurt's skin smelling like it needs to be licked. He swallows hard and watches Kurt's hands work around it, lets the hot water hit his back.

Leaning forward, both Kurt's hands start at his chest, one still with the soap, the other lathered and they start painting hard lines up, over shoulders, then down arms, back across Blaine's chest, pressing the perfect white bubbles and the smell into his skin in swirls and traces, all hard presses against muscle.

"Up," Kurt says and Blaine lifts his arms. Kurt works the soap from one hand to the other, scrubbing up Blaine's sides, over ribs, under his arms, through the hair there. He keeps painting and pushing the heel of his palm into his skin until Blaine's covered in white and his breath is short.

Kurt makes one last pass, the soap pulled down from clavicle over pectoral, sliding over a nipple. On the other side, his fingers catch and he pinches lightly, making Blaine groan.

He's turned on and hard and not caring so much if he gets clean because actually, right now, Blaine kind of just really wants to get downright dirty.

He shakes himself free of Kurt's grasp and the soap skitters onto the ground, sliding off to a corner. Blaine pulls him in, soapy arms sliding too easily around and his wrists cross at the small of his back, his fingers digging in, holding him close.

Blaine thrusts his hips up, once, hard. Kurt groans, open-mouthed and needy and not even trying to hide it and Blaine covers his mouth with his own, tongues meeting somewhere between at their hips start working against each other. Dick against dick, both slicked between them against their stomachs and pressing.

"Fuck," Blaine breathes out, mouth skirting down Kurt's throat to suck at a muscle, teeth nipping, tongue working over the contour there.

Laughing again, Kurt presses forward, walks Blaine back, until the water's hitting both of them, coming down over them, between them, forcing their eyes closed and washing the soap and the slickness from Blaine's body. They keep rocking and it would be so damn easy to just get off like this. Across each other's bellies, cocks pressing, nothing more.

But they both want more.

Blaine's wrists uncross and his hands find Kurt's ass, kneading hard, raising him on to tiptoe as he grips and pulls and sinks his fingers in between the cheeks, just fingertips teasing at Kurt's hole.

"How?" Blaine asks and Kurt knows, from years of practice, exactly what he means with the single syllable; Blaine's lips off Kurt's skin for the briefest amount of time to get the question across.

Kurt thinks on it, he'd wanted to wash Blaine's hair, he thinks too long and Blaine slides a hand around his hip, between them, and curls his fingers around both their cocks, pressing them together, hard and hot and they both groan at the contact.

"Anything you want," Blaine whispers against his mouth.

Groaning, Kurt thrusts into Blaine's hand, delicious, fleeting friction as their cocks rub and then Blaine's hand drops back to Kurt's hip. "However," he mumbles, mouth distracted by Blaine jaw, Blaine's own mouth back against his cheek, tongue licking at the hot water rolling down in rivulets.

Blaine walks them back a step, out of the water and blinks his eyes open. "How?" he begs, pulling back but not letting their hips, their cocks separate—this is all part of the build now.

Kurt draws his lips into his mouth and sucks, thinks. "Let me wash your back?" he asks.

Blaine's lips turn down, just a hint of a frown before he catches it and forces a smile. "Top?" he asks and he sounds way too hopeful.

Kurt just chuckles and pushes him back, hands at his hips, until they're not touching. He turns him away and shifts them, pushes Blaine back under the spray and beyond and then bends, finds the soap and is back up, working it between his hands then over Blaine's back.

Like his front, Kurt takes his time painting Blaine's back with soap, working in lines, then swirls and then he rubs his name into the skin, admiring the play of muscle and the way Blaine arches under every touch, little whimpers begging without words that Kurt take this further.

Covered in soap and arching so his ass presses back, Blaine looks over his shoulder. "You done?" he asks, sounding impatient and turned on. Kurt slides a hand around, down over Blaine's taut, well-defined abdomen and curls his fingers around his cock to set up a slow stroke that draws a moan.

Blaine leans back against him, head pressed against Kurt's shoulder, eyes closed, the water hitting his chest now. "What do you want?" he whispers.

Kurt just chuckles low in his throat. "Long," he says. "Drawn out." He presses a kiss to Blaine's cheek and runs his spare hand up his chest to rest over his heart. "Slow sex," he whispers into his ear.

Blaine groans low in his throat and Kurt can feel it emanating off him: Do we have to? But Kurt's adamant. Blaine's too tightly strung. Not just today with the conference but all month with everything at the university and the papers and everything.

"Until the water runs cold," Kurt tells him.

Blaine groans under his hands, chest vibrating as he leans back more heavily into Kurt's body. Long, slow sex sounds perfect but that doesn't mean he doesn't still mostly just want to get off right now. Especially with one of Kurt's hands still around his cock, stroking with a perfectly tight, twisting grip.

But Kurt just shushes him, hot breath on his neck and rocks his hips against Blaine's ass, cock sliding between the cheeks, hot and hard like the rest of him. Blaine groans again and they can both hear the begging, 'why not just now?' quality to it. But Kurt laughs, gives one last pull on Blaine's cock and then steps back.

His hands return a second later, sliding into Blaine's hair and starting to work his fingertips in circles against his scalp. Automatically, Blaine leans back into the touch and closes his eyes as Kurt works the shampoo through the massage.

At some point Kurt starts humming out a melody and his hands get distracted and begin working at the kinks in the back of Blaine's neck, down further to his shoulders. Harder and harder presses of the heels of his hands until Blaine's groaning low in his throat and has wrapped his own hand back around his cock.

"So good," he mumbles out, spare hand pushing his hair back from his eyes, keeping the soap at bay. He hums. "You are so good to me," he admits and Kurt grins and preens behind him because it's true but it's hardly like he doesn't have good reason to be.

Reluctantly, Kurt's hands leave his back and he presses close to lean around him and grab the showerhead. "Head back for me?"

Blaine still hasn't opened his eyes but he arches his back and cranes his neck into Kurt's hand and lets him wash the soap away. Straightens when he feels the showerhead being guided down the curve of his spine, the pinpoint water streams making his skin tingle. Kurt's nails scratch out the same trail until both water and fingertips are resting at the top of his ass.

Kurt's foot sneaks between his, toes poking at his calf as Kurt steps a bit closer and whispers, "Spread," in a low voice.

Not even pausing for a moment, Blaine's feet slide out to the edges of the shower, one pressed against the glass, the other against the wall and a second later, Kurt's hand is sliding down the crease of his ass, middle finger pressed close, teasing, tracing circles around his hole while the water spray stays pressed close at the small of his back, following the contours down.

"Kurt," Blaine whispers, smart enough to let go of his cock and steady himself, both hands out to the glass and the tiles.

Kurt's hand slides further forward, under him, Kurt bending his knees to reach Blaine's balls, palming them lightly and rolling them in his hand, making Blaine shudder and say his name louder. Then back, middle finger teasing at his hole again and Blaine presses back, down, relaxes perfectly for him and Kurt grins wolfishly as he uses just enough pressure to slip a fingertip inside.

Another growling groan as Kurt slides his finger away and smooths his hand up Blaine's back, stepping forward and letting his teeth hold at the muscle of Blaine's neck, skirt up to nip at the corner of his jaw.

Kurt presses the showerhead into Blaine's hand as he tells him with a grin, "Conditioner," and Blaine still hasn't opened his eyes.

Kurt repeats the process of stepping back, squirting conditioner into his palm and then taking his time working it into Blaine's hair, long enough that Blaine's spare hand slides back to start stroking slowly at Kurt's cock.

Kurt has to bite his lip to stop from giving him the satisfaction of hearing him moan as Blaine twists his wrist around the base and squeezes and then Kurt's done and removing Blaine's hand from him, taking the showerhead back and wordlessly tilting Blaine's head so he can wash the conditioner out. That task complete, Kurt winds an arm around Blaine's waist, showerhead pressed into his hip and steps in close.

Rocking into his ass he works his lips at the back of Blaine's neck, kissing at the wet clean skin, then letting his teeth scratch in lines up and down. When Blaine grinds back, working his ass hard against Kurt's cock, the snag in Kurt's breath is obvious and he imagines Blaine's grinning to have heard it. So Kurt bites down, skin between his teeth as he sucks and start working the muscle of Blaine's neck in his mouth, determined to mark.

The hand that had been caressing up and down Blaine's chest drops, starts the same slow stroke around his cock and both Blaine's hands shift back immediately, splaying around Kurt's hips, down to his thighs, pulling him in as he keeps rocking.

"Kurt," Blaine growls out, begging, waiting, pleading.

Laughing low in his throat, Kurt gives a final suck and then admires his handy work, the pink crescents punctuated by pinpricks of red and the indentations made by his teeth. "Water's still hot," he says, turning Blaine to face him, letting their hips press, meeting his eyes and then looking down at where their cocks are caught and rubbing.

Blaine leans forward, chases his lips and manages to kiss him once, too lightly. "It's a nice hotel. I'm not sure they run out of hot water."

Kurt just shrugs and walks him back a step, then another, and fuck that's cold. Kurt laughs as Blaine's back hits the cold tiles and he gasps, arches hard against Kurt's body and then groans at all the contact. He throws Kurt a withering glare then buries a hand in his hair and pulls him in for a kiss.

A proper kiss of angled mouths and tongues meeting and licking, withdrawing so they can just press their lips together perfectly, over and over, breathing each other in and building the pressure higher. Blaine rocks hard, hoping he's won, hoping Kurt will give in and find a pace to get them off but Kurt bites down on his bottom lip, draws back and clicks his tongue at him.

He reaches up and slides the showerhead back into place, turns the water pressure up and kisses Blaine again. His hands slide down, slide into Blaine's and he pulls him forward, under the water, until it's spraying across his back. Then Kurt grins and it's wicked and Blaine knows exactly what it means and wants to say 'God, yes' and 'Hell, no' all at once and just groans and closes his eyes, head thrown back into the spray as, he knows without looking, Kurt sinks down to his knees.

One hand slips back into Kurt's hair, the other grabs the edge of the glass partition and when Blaine feels hot heavy air across his cock, he holds his breath and looks down.

Kurt's staring up at him, all taut white skin and dark hair where he's kneeling low, ass against his feet, toes to the wall, his hands on his knees as he stares up, still with that wicked grin across his lips, licking them now and raising a hand to fist at Blaine's cock and then hold it in front of his face.

His gaze flickers down to look and this time when he licks his lips it's unconscious. Eyes back up and he says—and he means it—"Don't come."

Blaine nods soundlessly.

Another lick of his lips and another stroke of Blaine's cock and then Kurt wriggles closer and sinks his mouth down, hot and wet and too fast for Blaine to stop the moan. Straightening his neck, Kurt takes the entire length into his mouth, relaxes and lets Blaine's cock slide into his throat as he swallows around him, humming as he revels in the weight of it across his tongue. He keeps going until his nose is pressed to dense dark hair and he can feel Blaine's balls near his chin and he knows when he breathes in all he'll be able to smell in Blaine—clean and wet but so, so him.

He holds there, second after second, Blaine's fingers tightening in his hair, his thighs tight under Kurt's hands, hips frozen.

Kurt slips back, the sound of his wet, stretched lips pornographic, just how he likes it, and Blaine groaning loud above him as he sucks in a breath. Kurt does the same, breathing in hard through his nose and pressing his tongue up against the cock still half in his mouth. He slides his mouth back down again and Blaine's hand hurts in his hair, too tight but Kurt doesn't mind, just swallows over and over and then pulls back all the way and smirks up at Blaine until he looks down.

Long licks over the head, a hand back around the base to hold him in place as Kurt tongues at him, pressing behind the head, then into the slit, sucking in the taste and making Blaine's hips finally stutter forward.

A warning look up, trying to judge how close he is, Kurt works his mouth around Blaine's cock, tongue licking at him inside his mouth as his cheeks hollow and he starts to work his mouth up and down the length. Fast and tight. He doesn't relent, just over and over, sucking and working his mouth expertly.

Blaine whines high in his throat, hips snapping forward to meet Kurt's mouth and Kurt doesn't mind in the least, takes him further into his mouth and hums appreciation, pull back to swipe again at the slit with his tongue and then resumes.

Another high-pitched whine, this time slipping into a growl as Blaine's hand in Kurt's hair yanks him back, off, away because he can't come yet but he was about to. His knees hit the floor with a crack on the outsides of Kurt's so that they're both kneeling, his hands coming forward, pulling at him, closer, kisses hard into his mouth again and whimpers because if Kurt would just touch him, it'd be over, but Kurt won't. Kurt just kisses back, softening it, lessening it, and smiles into it. And then pulls back, hands on Blaine's cheeks.

"Close?" he asks, knowing.

Blaine nods and pleads with his eyes.

Kurt just shakes his head and presses his hands down Blaine's neck, down his chest to rest there, feeling Blaine's heart race and just watching him, waiting for him to calm. Then he pushes him back and Blaine whines again, sulking just a little but letting himself be pushed onto his ass and slid under the spray, to the opposite wall.

"Wait," Kurt tells him and gracefully shifts up onto his feet, hand fisting at his own cock as he stares down, more seconds passing, Blaine's slipping further away from coming. And then Kurt grins and steps out of the shower. Blaine's about to whine again but Kurt moves too quickly out the bathroom door and out of sight.

Blaine thinks, momentarily, about just getting off right there, grabbing his dick and coming before Kurt can come back and tell him to stop. But that's a dumb idea, he knows, and he's probably calmed down enough that he'll have to work himself up again and Kurt will catch him midstroke and not be pleased and—

Kurt walks back in, not bothering to shut the door this time and brandishing a bottle of lube in his hand. Their very best lube, the one they always use in the shower.

Blaine's sigh of relief is audible and Kurt smirks at him, making Blaine think the games aren't over yet. He moves to stand and Kurt shakes his head, stepping over his outstretched leg and dropping to sit cross-legged between, the water still coming down across Blaine's shoulders, dripping down and keeping him hot and sensitive.

"Closer," Kurt tells him, a hand sliding up his calf to his thigh, nails digging in as he tugs and Blaine wriggles his ass off the floor and slides a few inches forward.

"Closer," Kurt tells him again, a growl in his voice as Blaine rolls his eyes just a little and looks pointedly at the two inches remaining between Kurt's crossed ankles and his ass. Clicking his tongue again, Kurt leaves the lube beside his leg and reaches forward, bending beautifully at the waist and wrapping his hands around Blaine's hips. "Hands behind you or you'll crack your head open."

Blaine manages to scowl but he's starting to think he sees where this is going and it's making his stomach throb again with need. He also thinks he probably could have come by now, had a nap and been ready to go again if Kurt wasn't being so damn teasing about it all. But he puts his hands out behind him none the less, sliding them to the corners of the shower and waits.

Kurt pulls him forward with a jolt, sliding back as he does it until his own back is against the shower wall and Blaine's ass is pressed to where his ankles cross; his hands race along Blaine's thighs where he's elevated his legs just a little to lie over Kurt's, scratches to his calves again and then lifts.

Blaine's hands out behind him take more of his weight, balancing as Kurt pulls his legs up until his heels are on his shoulders and he's bent at the middle, legs falling wide and his back twinging despite his locked elbows.

"Hmmm?" Kurt hums out the question, not prepared to relinquish control but always, always wanting to know Blaine's mind.

Blaine nods back, blinking away the water, now hitting him square in the chest and splashing into his eyes; he gives up and closes them against the continued spray and lets his head loll back.

A finger, wet and sliding, suddenly slips into him deliciously, buried deep and working in tiny circles. Blaine bites down on his lip and lets his hips sink back to the floor from where they've snapped up into the touch. He growls and Kurt starts working him, sliding in and out as Kurt's other hand pets up and down a thigh, behind his knee, caressing him through it.

"Good?" Kurt asks, pressing his finger over and over and then building speed, testing out how needy Blaine really is.

A groan echoes and Blaine's mouth is open, hot water hitting his lips and tongue and he swallows it down, not caring. "More."

Kurt hums and Blaine kind of wishes he could watch him but thinks another finger, fucking him hard, a hand on his cock, god he wants it and he just concentrates on getting it. Now.

Kurt's hand moves away, then back, more lube, two fingers pressing in more gently this time, sliding inside and waiting for Blaine to breathe again. Then sliding deeper and working him with smaller movements, twists and presses and little thrusts.

Moaning, Blaine tries to press down but he's too tightly coiled and bent, can't find the muscles he needs to move deliberately onto Kurt's fingers. He wonders if Kurt did that on purpose. Probably. "Kurt, fuck me."

Another laugh but it's breathless and Blaine knows exactly how much Kurt gets off on watching his fingers inside Blaine and he's been hard this whole time, too. The two fingers drag almost all the way out, pause, and then fuck into him hard.

Keening, Blaine's back arches and he feels one of his elbows tremble. Kurt fucks into him again, this time sure to press against his prostate as his fingers slide in. Again and again and now Kurt can see the precome pooling in Blaine's slit, slicking onto Blaine's stomach when his cock bounces against him there. More wetness and he has made him wait so very, very, long. He thinks about it.

"I could get you off just like this, couldn't I?" he asks, voice even more raspy than before.

Blaine's keening cuts off with a moan and he answers: "Please."

Again, harsh thrust into him, over his prostate and then out. Again. And then out and away and Blaine's snapping his head forward to look through the spray and see whether Kurt's slickening up a third finger or moving to concentrate on his cock or…Kurt's just grinning at him, eyes sparkling as he turns his head to kiss at one of Blaine's ankles and then move his hands to slide them from his shoulders.

"Water's still hot," he explains.

Blaine's shoved back, Kurt's hands on his feet, keeping him off balance so he can't really resist but he's glaring through the spray as hard as he can. "Kurt, come on," he whines, trying a different tact.

But Kurt just shushes him and uncrosses his legs to spread them, one stretching out onto the bathroom floor, the other bent up against the tiled wall. Blaine's gaze sweeps down, over Kurt's cock, red and hard against his belly, down and he watches Kurt's hand slide from his hip, over his balls, fingertips pressing between the cheeks of his ass and in tight circles around his hole.

"You need to relax," Kurt tells him, voice tight. "And I need to catch up."

"Let me?" Blaine asks, really, really wanting to get his fingers inside his boyfriend but he knows Kurt will shake his head and then he does.

Utter torture.

Kurt slides down further, tries to angle his hips so Blaine can see him better, the stark down lights of the room casting shadows but leaving his skin pale and shining with water and sweat. He uncaps the lube again and squirts it out onto his fingers, coating, Blaine watches him, all of them.

No need for finesse, they're in a shower.

And then Kurt slides two down, paints slick streaks down the underside of his cock, over his balls, perineum, over his hole and then back and presses two fingers there, squirming his ass even further across the floor and then they're sinking into him, rough and tight and he's groaning as loud as he wants because he's staring at Blaine and oh, yes, Blaine just shuddered.

He twists his fingers, feels himself stretch around them, slides out and then in and then out again, curves his back to squirt more lube on his fingers and down the crack of his ass, not caring that it's too much and dribbling on the floor. Presses them back in and finds it easier.

Kurt sets up a tempo, lets his eyes flicker shut and imagines it's Blaine's cock and licks his lips and groans again. Rougher and harder into himself, over and over and he opens his eyes to watch Blaine staring at him, eyes wide, mouth open, hands fisted tightly at his sides.

Another twist of his fingers, knuckles catching at his prostate and he whines and arches his back into the touch, but he refuses to close his eyes now, watching Blaine swallow and his abdomen clench.

There's a moment's pity, a second's weakness. "You can touch," Kurt tells him, starting to fuck himself down onto his hand, voice high and gasping.

Blaine scrambles forward, so damn eager, and Kurt's other hand presses him back. "Yourself," he specifies. "And don't you dare come."

Blaine falls back, letting the water cascade down over his head and he kneels there, head bowed, eyes blinking fast to keep watching Kurt as he starts stroking his own cock again. It's starting to ache, starting to burn too desperately in the pit of his stomach.

Kurt slides his fingers free to add a third and writhe around them, other hand grabbing at his cock as he keeps rocking down onto his fingers, blatantly moaning every time he hits his own prostate, pulling at his cock in perfect time. Keeps fucking himself and staring at Blaine, from eyes down to where he's not stroking himself near hard enough and Kurt is preening to know he can make him hold back when he's this far gone.

"God, Blaine," he moans out, loud and wanton, putting on a show that just makes Blaine growl and glare at him. "Fuck." Kurt grins at him and grinds down harder onto his fingers. "Imagine how good it's going to be, though," he manages to get out between gasps.

Blaine thinks he might have a witty retort, even though, fuck, Kurt is right. Always right when they play this game. But he always pushes so damn hard. He's about to speak when Kurt's hands are shifting, fingers sliding out of his ass and away from his cock on another groan and he's falling forward, kissing hard across Blaine's mouth, bruising and owning, teeth nipping at Blaine's lips as Blaine gives back just as much and hopes to god he doesn't come off a kiss.

Up on his feet, Kurt waits for Blaine to join him and then pushes past to the water, drenching himself again, head turned up to the spray as he grins and washes off the sweat and sex of, god, how long have they been going? He pulls the showerhead free, trails it around his body, another show, makes Blaine's eyes follow it across the curves of his shoulders, chest, back across his ass which Blaine knows is still stretched open. Back over his stomach, fisting his cock through the hot water. He turns and replaces the showerhead, the water pelting down between them, Blaine left sagging against the opposite wall.

"You want me to let you come?" Kurt asks, laughter in his voice as Blaine stands in front of him, obviously desperate, a hand on his cock but not moving.

"Please," Blaine whimpers.

Kurt laughs and runs a hand from his own clavicle to bellybutton. "You think I've tortured you long enough?"

Blaine nods and swallows. "Kurt, come on. Please," he pauses. Kurt won't let him forget this for weeks but he's done everything but say it. "I'm begging."

Kurt casts a considering eye over him, and the seconds drag by. Then he smiles, sweet and letting the control slip away as his gaze softens. "Come here," he whispers.

Blaine's shoulders slump even further and he breathes a heavy sigh of relief—god, finally, anything, please anything—his lips quirking up as he falls forward, a single long step forward and he'll be pressed up against Kurt and rutting, fucking, hands and mouths and whatever he needs to finally come.

But oh, Fuck. FUCK! The water's ice cold where it's still pelting down between them. Not lukewarm, but ice cold and it hits his chest, face, legs, with a hard slap and he's stumbling back and catching himself against the wall as he blinks and stares at the showerhead above. He shivers, his whole body racked with it and shaking and it stings.

And Kurt's laughing at him—he did that—now a hand over his mouth, cock bobbing, still hard and perfect beneath where he's wrapped a hand across his abdomen to try to control the giggles. His face is split in a blissful grin that Blaine can see stretching beneath his fingers and the corners of his eyes are creased, the irises seemingly shining bluer. He laughs hard and stretches a hand behind him to stop the flow of water completely.

But something's snapped in Blaine. Everything coiled so damn long, so damn tight and Kurt's laughing at him. Achingly hard and wanting and wanton but controlling every damn twitch, making him wait and enough. Utterly enough.

The water's off, Kurt's bound to be about to relent and laugh more and then drop to his knees and suck him until he comes but—No.

Blaine walks forward, pushing Kurt back and not caring that much if the taps are pressing into his back, making him arch and stare and stop laughing very fucking quickly as their cocks press and Blaine's fingers close harsh over Kurt's nipples, pinching just hard enough at both to make Kurt whine, his eyes, his pupils, blown wider.

A hand up, over Kurt's throat, his jaw, angling him with rough fingers and then crushing his mouth to his, kissing him open and raw and forceful, not displeased when their teeth clink and Kurt's tongue presses back against his messily. Keeps kissing him as his hips buck hard into Kurt's, cocks catching and making both of them gasp. And Blaine fucking wants to see bruises on his back tomorrow. Tap-shaped fucking bruises right over the dimples because he is aching right now and Kurt's hands have found his ass, are pressing him in and close and his nails are scratching.

Blaine's mouth tracks along his jaw, behind his ear and sucks. Bites down his neck, groaning and rubbing and holding himself back. Fuck he could come whenever he wants. Could stop holding himself taut and spill over Kurt's cock and stomach if he wanted to. But he doesn't. Which is fucking ridiculous after all of this but…

He winds a hand down, around Kurt's cock and tests, strokes hard and up and brings Kurt to his toes, begging for more and Kurt's just as close as he is, just as desperate, he just hides it so well. Both cocks together, between their bellies, Blaine's hand down Kurt's back, over his ass, lower, fingers slipping over his hole, teasing and Kurt whimpers, loud and not at all on purpose, into Blaine's ear.

"I'm going to fuck you for that little stunt," Blaine breathes against his neck.

And Kurt arches, eyes fluttering open to look at him with a grin that's spreading across his face.

But Blaine growls low in his throat and looks wrecked and primal and there's a frisson of something electric racing Kurt's spine.

Another growl, and Blaine steps away, leaving him in space, waiting, aching. Then he tells him, "Bed. Now."

And Kurt could argue, stand toe to toe and really push this. He thinks about it, just for a second, but Blaine has snapped and Kurt's stomach feels hot, the excitement there palpable and his cock just aches for release. He steps past Blaine, out of the shower, chin high but his eyes shining with amusement still as he reaches for a towel only to have Blaine's hand close around his wrist from behind.

"Leave it." And Blaine's other hand shoves at the centre of his back, propelling him forward, out of the bathroom and down the short hall towards the bed.

Blaine's hands run down the wall as they go, flicking on every light switch he can find, flooding the room with the too many lights of a hotel room. Down lights, table lamps, floor lamps, little lights mounted behind the bed for reading, even the lights in the little kitchenette.

Kurt just watches him with an arched brow and one side of his mouth quirked up. Then Blaine's hands are running up his chest, caressing over his shoulders and behind his neck and then back down his front and pushing him onto the bed.

He lets it happen, bouncing, his body instantly wetting the sheets as he shimmies backwards, giving Blaine the space to drop onto his knees on the mattress and edge forward between Kurt's legs.

Blaine's hands go to his knees instantly, pushing them up, tight to his body and rocking him back so he can look down at him and grin wolfishly.

"You are the biggest tease known to man," Blaine breathes out, voice still rough. One of Kurt's hands shifts to replace one of Blaine's and instantly, Blaine's fisting his own cock in long, rough pulls. He's not going to last but he wants so badly to be buried deep inside Kurt's ass when he comes.

Kurt raises up on an elbow, bending himself even further and letting his legs fall wider under Blaine's touch as he pouts and bats his eyelashes. "You love it," he smirks falling back against the white sheets and running his spare hand down his chest to mirror Blaine's strokes on his own cock.

Grinning Blaine licks a wet line up the back of Kurt's thigh. "Yeah, I do," he admits. Then he presses him back further, hand still pressing hard at Kurt's thigh, keeping him there spread and bent in half. Another smirk and his hand dips, swirls around Kurt's hole and then pinches hard at a cheek. "But I love this, too."

He reaches to the side and holds up the bottle of lube and Kurt absently wonders when he managed to grab it but it doesn't really matter.

"Hold yourself open for me," Blaine tells him, hand off Kurt's thigh, Kurt's instantly replacing it, fingers stretching downward and drawing his ass apart as he whines low in his throat.

Blaine uncaps the bottle again and leans forward and down, mouth around Kurt's cock before Kurt even realizes what's happening and sucking hard, making him buck as the cold lube is squirted messily behind his balls, dribbling down and over his hole and onto the sheets and they should care about that, they have to sleep here, but Blaine's mouth slides lower, then higher, on Kurt's cock, tongue around the head and Kurt's keening with it.

Then away and a press of lips to his thigh and Blaine's pressing two fingers against Kurt's ass, sliding them inside him as Kurt bucks hard into it and searches for contact but Blaine isn't trying to make him come, he's using the lightest touches he can to spread him and stretch him and he's staring and getting off on it, other hand back around his cock as he watches his fingers slide in and then out.

Another moan and Kurt bites down on his bottom lip to try to stop it but can't. He shakes his head, not wanting this, sure as hell not needing this. "No," he tells Blaine, hips bearing down, surely Blaine can feel that he's stretched and wet and ready. "No, just fuck me."

"Why should I?" Blaine teases, fingers sliding deep and he has to close his eyes and swallow hard to curb himself. Like he's not going to be buried to the hilt and coming hard in the next sixty seconds.

But on some strange level Kurt buys it, arches his back and tries to get Blaine's fingers deeper while he sobs out a moan and tries to come off of just that. "Blaine," he whines out and if he looked he'd see Blaine slicking his cock with more lube but Kurt can't quite get his eyes to open or his back to stop arching. "Fuck, please."

"Kurt," he whispers his name out and really, really, hopes Kurt's as close as he seems to be because…fuck.

Blaine inches forward, still kneeling but legs spreading and folded and aching with too-tight cramps and he keeps fisting his cock, biting his lip, says his boyfriend's name again and Kurt's eyes flicker open as Blaine's fingers slide out of him.

And then he's pressing the tip of his cock against Kurt's hole and Kurt's staring at him, begging with his eyes and biting his lip but still so loud as his hands claw at the underside of his own thighs.

The head of Blaine's cock slides inside him, stretching him so much better than Blaine's fingers were, settling just an inch inside as Blaine holds his breath and then whimpers.

"Gonna come?" Blaine asks, challenges.

Kurt starts nodding, teeth around his lip, spread and splayed and whining. And then his head snaps back because Blaine's hands have wrapped over his, around his thighs and yanked him forward in one hard pull and buried himself inside him, hips hitting against Kurt's ass with a jolt of pain but it's nothing, nothing, compared to the stretch of Blaine's cock, perfect and hard and everything in his ass.

A rough press over his prostate and then again as Blaine rolls his hips back, cock sliding out until it's just the stretched feeling of the width of the tip lodged just inside him and then he's fucking hard into him once more and Kurt's voice breaks high mid-keen and he arches, freezes and everything tightens even tighter and then shatters and his mouth opens in an almost silent whimper and it races through him, from balls, up his spine, everything tingling and his cock spilling across his stomach in streaks as he lets every filthy word he knows start slipping from his lips.

But Blaine doesn't let up. Pulls out and then thrusts hard back in, then again, pushing against the tightening around him and growling low, presses again and again against Kurt's prostate and Kurt's still coming, another whimper from his lips and Blaine's name as it aches—too much. Blaine pulls back and buries again and this time his hips stutter, unmeasured short thrusts deep and his voice slips lower into a broken, desperate moan, fingers clawing at Kurt for purchase as he holds as close and as tight as he can and comes inside Kurt's ass at last.

He holds there, perfect, aching pleasure, for as long as he can. Until he feels the last of the stars fade before his closed eyes and his cock start to twinge with over-sensitivity. Looking down, eyes opening, he sees Kurt still grinning, mouth hanging open as he sucks in breath after breath and the pink flush of after-sex glow settling on his skin.

Blaine's hands leave Kurt's thighs and Kurt's hands shift as well, no longer caught beneath Blaine's. His legs flopping as soon as they can and then Blaine pitching forward, cock slipping from Kurt's ass with a messy wet noise and a hiss from them both.

He debates trying to salvage the wreck. Not settling in the mess they've made but finding his feet and fetching a cloth and a towel and scrubbing at where the lube has stained the sheets and cleaning up Kurt as best he can before they both fall asleep, tangled together.

But Kurt's hands grab at him and pull him down, legs twisting together, stomachs pressed and Kurt's come slick and sliding between and Blaine really can't be fucked: he's exhausted.

What the hell are hotels for, if not to ruin sheets?

He kisses Kurt, lazy and languid, his hands folded over the chest beneath his so that when he pulls back he can rest his chin there and smile and bask and neither one of them can quite know what to say.

Eventually, Kurt breathes out a puff of air, wriggles and Blaine knows, with a groan, damn well that it's because he can feel the come leaking out of his ass.

They're going to burn these sheets and apologise to the hotel, he reasons.

Then Kurt's mumbling, eyes closed, drifting towards sleep. "That was really, really, really…" he trails off.

"Good?" Blaine asks, shifting to his side to curl around Kurt—god, he really wishes he had the energy to clean them up.

Kurt hums and snuggles in tighter, arms looping around.

Blaine chuckles. "Just, if you wake up tied to the bed in the middle of the night..."

And Kurt snorts, but knows that turn about is always fair play and he can certainly think of worse things to wake up to. "No complaints."