Fic: Static
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None...I see what I'm doing here...
Summary: The space and time between Blaine coming and Kurt following him over the edge.
Words: 1200
A/N: More little smutty fic things based around different aspects of Kurt and Blaine's first time.

"Are you okay?" His own voice sounds breathless and high-pitched and laughing to his own ears and the only response he gets from Blaine above him is a quirked corner of his mouth and the sound of him breathing in hard through his nose.

Kurt just swallows and stills his own breathing, trying not to vibrate or rock or lunge up and pull Blaine down to him because Blaine's still wracked with shivers and feels heavy across his hips and the hot stickiness of come on Kurt's stomach is still new and distracting. Of course, it feels just like when he gets himself off too late at night to be caught and does it without sheets over him and comes on his own abdomen, liking the mark of it, the feel of it hitting his skin and feeling warm and dirty if he chooses to rub it across his skin with his fingers before wiping it away. But this is more acute. More cause than effect.

And obviously Blaine just came; Kurt buried inside him, Blaine straddled over his hips, riding him. Riding him. Kurt doesn't even know how they ended up like that but after however many failed attempts—blushing, giggling, naked, kissing each other back to ready and good over and over—this is how they ended up. And Kurt had thought he was close, hadn't been able to quite believe how good it felt to be hot and hard inside Blaine with Blaine over and around him and mumbling out his name in between gasps and staring looks of enamoured lust and disbelief. And all the while he still laughs around gasps and blushes beneath the flush of exertion.

He hadn't even thought to ask if it was hurting when he'd slid inside—too much lube and testing the practice, touching each other—Kurt's eyes flicker now to remember the touching.

He'd just let Blaine set the pace, lifting, falling, rocking, twisting above him. Until Kurt's own hips were rising up to meet the movements. Had let Blaine lean down to kiss him, messy and wet and that had been too much, had made Kurt whine and his hips snap up and that had, he supposed, been Blaine's undoing, because a second later, Blaine's mouth was off his and his hands were leaning hard into the pillow on either side of Kurt's head, his knees tight to Kurt's sides, and Blaine was rocking harder, faster, with a back arched and then twisted and he was shouting, swearing, the muscles of his neck straining around the scratch of the words and the keen of Kurt's name and a drop of sweat running from temple to chin.

And he'd come on Kurt's stomach, a hand shifting to fist in harsh little strokes around his own cock as he kept rocking down onto the length hard inside him, dragged the last of his orgasm out as long as he could. The movement of Blaine touching his own cock had captivated Kurt; the reckless twist of Blaine's hand with an open mouth and wide eyes and Kurt worked ever so hard to ignore the tightness around his own cock because he cared more about seeing this.

But now Blaine's gone still and he is so, so okay and Kurt's really asking what happens next because he is aching inside Blaine and Blaine's just still, hot, heavy over, around, above him.

Hot come cooling on Kurt's stomach. Blaine's cock still mostly hard and if Blaine just leaned down Kurt would be able to feel the wet head of it against his abdomen, could pull him in by the small of his back and get more weight over him and the slip of him against, around.

"Blaine?" he calls again and he sounds needy and desperate and he tries to swallow a bit of it while Blaine raises his head to look at him with a smile that shakes but lights up his eyes.

"Sorry," Blaine mumbles, meaning only that he drifted for an indeterminate amount of time there. Strung too tight and breaking hard enough to lose track. He's never come like that before. He's never felt so full and powerful and perfectly undone.

Kurt actually rolls his eyes at the apology.

And in the midst of all of it, it makes Blaine laugh again, low in his throat and the contraction of his stomach around the chuckle reverberates down to Kurt's cock inside him and Kurt's breath catches.

"You can move, I think," Blaine tells him feeling him tense, wondering how sensitive his own body is going to be, wondering if he can just let Kurt fuck hard up into him—god that's what he wants—and get hard again and just keep doing this forever. At home, sometimes, the most vibrant and fresh fantasies, he gets himself off twice in one night.

Surely now.

But he feels stretched and tingling and he wonders if he'll have to stop because it'll be too much. Kurt's big inside him and he's tight and it was so damn good but he wonders if this wouldn't end better if he slides away, pulls the condom off and finds out what Kurt's dick tastes like.

His eyes flutter and heat throbs low in his stomach at the thought and he thinks maybe they should just do this all night. Maybe longer, who cares about the tingling, stretching, too-much ache of it.

Kurt rocks his hips experimentally and Blaine's eyes lock down on Kurt's as he whimpers. "What were you thinking?" Kurt asks.

There's a second where he prepares an answer that's a half-truth: 'How special this is' or 'How much I love you'. But Kurt's still rocking, breathing hard, and it aches beautifully and he wants to watch his boyfriend come inside him.

"Just thinking how badly I want to find out what you taste like," he mumbles, concentrating, hands on Kurt's shoulders, on matching the rhythm.

Kurt's breath hitches and his hips snap up making them both groan roughly. "Soon."

And Blaine's eyes sparkle because that's exactly what he was thinking and he is getting hard again despite the stretch of Kurt inside him and the ache it. He's going to make Kurt come and then he's going to kiss him for as long as it takes for them both to want to try something again, something new.

"Close?" Blaine asks, curious and wanting, wondering what he could, should do.

Kurt laughs and whines, working his hips harder and tracking his fingers up Blaine's back and then back down. Up again. "Come down here and kiss me and we'll see."

And as soon as Blaine's pressed down, stomach to stomach, chest to chest, tongues meeting messily as they both breath hard and rock against each other, Kurt's keening and arching and, oh god, yes, he's bracing his feet and fucking up hard into Blaine, mumbling out his name against his mouth and Blaine knows, then hears it mumbled against his lips.

"So close."