Summary: Kurt. Blaine. Sex.
A/N: I continue to be in a bad mood….so I wrote dirtier, messier porn…
Kurt shakes his head vehemently but grins and grips Blaine's hips tight to his.
They wait in silence as the clock on the wall ticks too loudly.
"Blaine, I can't—"
Blaine cuts him off. "I didn't—" and then he stops short himself. "Shit, I didn't mean to do it like this."
And really, maybe, a little bit, he could undo this. Slide out and stretch back for the bedside table, pull a condom out and rip it open and slide it on and then slide back inside. But he doesn't want to.
"I wanted to talk about this," Blaine says, concentrates on not rocking his hips, not moving an inch inside Kurt's ass because already, no friction, this is enough.
"You did?" Kurt breathes.
Blaine nods and his teeth catch at one of the tendons of Kurt's neck. "I didn't mean to…" he trails off. Can he really argue to didn't mean to fuck his boyfriend's ass without a condom? Was it an accident?
"What would we have talked about though?" Kurt's voice is even higher, more breathless than usual and Blaine thinks he feels his hips rock down.
"This is a big step," Blaine tries and then his hips, god his fucking hips, slid up, away and then crash back down, burying his cock deep and raw and naked and both of them moan to feel it all: skin on skin, inside.
"Is it?" Kurt asks.
Blaine stares, pulls himself up onto his elbows and drags their sweat-slicked chests apart and stares down at Kurt lying, arms up, hands twined in Blaine's hair. Blaine half-nods and his hips thrust hard again. They get lost in it and Kurt's rocking until Blaine's hands hold his hips down into the bed and he pauses. He doesn't pull out, he buries himself and waits.
Kurt breathes deep and bites hard and fast at Blaine's neck, making him yelp, marking him in bright red pinpricks, starting to face to purple. The change of angle, the tightness—god so tight—around his dick distracts.
Kurt kisses him, up on his elbows, hips rocking hard with his legs wrapped around Blaine's waist. "I would never cheat on you," he mumbles. "And if I did, I love you too much to not tell you."
Blaine stares and nods once, sharp, hips stuttering forward and god it feels so tight and so slick, the heat twice what it usually is and it must be all in his head but…"Me too," he reassures, earnestly.
Kurt nods, barely hearing him and a hand wraps around his neck, drawing him down for another raw kiss as the slide of Blaine's cock gets rough and unmeasured inside him.
"Come inside me," Kurt begs into his ear. "Come inside me," again. "Blaine, fuck, please." Kurt whines and his hips snap up, Blaine's cock, perfect and hot and slick, god, so good, the head against his prostate again and again and he knows there's nothing left between them.
Kurt whines and his head snaps back into the bed and his hand slips between them to stroke the orgasm from him, comes between their stomachs as he murmurs, "Hurry," with closed eyes.
Blaine's hips snap forward again and again and he can't believe they didn't question it. Just fell into bed and fucked without thinking about protection and danger and making sure. But this is so much better. When he fantasises, this is it. They're forever and they're properly naked and now he is exactly that and fucking into Kurt's splayed, loose body. Again and Kurt spasms and grins and drags him down for a kiss and that's it. He keens high and raw into Kurt's mouth and thrusts as hard and deep as he dare and feels his balls tighten, his cock pulse.
"Coming," he whispers, wet into Kurt's neck and then he feels it, hot and wet and inside. Fuck, deep inside, owning and present and…he keeps keening after Kurt starts laughing, his own mouth open against his sweat-wet neck.
Another half-thrust deep inside and he's done, spent, empty. He draws back but keeps their hips pressed. This is new. "Jesus," he mumbles, finding Kurt's dark, hooded eyes. "I just…" he trails off; it's pretty obvious. "I don't…" he trails off and Kurt laughs.
"Pull out," Kurt murmurs.
Blaine stares and Kurt stretches, arms up, toes pointed and it feels ridiculously-good-too-much beneath him. "Pull out," Kurt says again.
It's agony to leave, half-soft and slick and unsure, but Blaine pulls up onto his hands, then his knees, dick sliding from Kurt's ass with an obscenely wet sound as Kurt's legs flop to the bed, Blaine's cock hanging above, looking slick and stunning and well-fucked. Blaine quirks an eyebrow, not sure what Kurt means by it, the deed is done and he hopes, god he hopes, it was just natural progression: Why not?
Fuck, they should have talked about it.
Kurt pushes him hard in the shoulder and he topples to the side and then Kurt's over him, legs across his stomach, straddling and pressing hard down, half-hard cock poking at his belly, Blaine's own cock against Kurt's ass, stirring. Ten minutes, he silently begs, ten minutes and he can do it all again.
Kurt kisses him hard and dirty, tongue in his mouth, too slick, too rough and his hips grind down in circles making Blaine groan. Then he feels it and it could be lube. Would usually be lube except usually Kurt would roll away and clean up and leftover lube feels slick where the liquid spreading on his stomach feels sticky and Blaine rips his mouth away to swear, "Fuck, Holy Fuck, Kurt."
Kurt grins wickedly. "Feel it," he says, redundancy dripping, as his ass rubs down and the come leaks across Blaine's stomach as he nods. "Hot?" Kurt asks, just enough edge to his voice for Blaine to know he means it.
Blaine keeps nodding.
"Good," Kurt says .