A/N: The eagerly anticipated next chapter is finally here! I hope you enjoy it. Not long left to go now!
May: Tokyo (Part 2)
"Rachel!" Kurt called out, his voice much higher than he would have liked, "Rachel, relax! I'll-I'll sort this out."
His voice shook, as did the rest of his body, making it difficult to manoeuvre himself. He would have to confront him. It was no use trying to pretend that he wasn't here, because evidently he was and he'd just make it even more awkward, for the both of them.
And then he came face to face with a rumpled, begging Blaine, still in his uniform, his expression pleading and his posture sagged. His eyes – such beautiful, bright eyes – were rimmed with red and his impossibly long eyelashes seemed even longer in the half-light of the hallway.
"You've-you've just come off a flight?" was the first question Kurt thought to ask.
"From Tokyo." Clipped. Straight to the point. He looked scared, apprehensive. Kurt felt much the same. "I just knew that I had to see you, to explain...everything."
"How did you know where I lived?" was the third question Kurt asked.
"I didn't. Or, rather, I didn't until I...well, I looked on the files on the airport computer to find out your home address." Blaine said sheepishly, ducking his head. "That's weird. Oh God, you think I'm a stalker."
Kurt slowly hobbled out into the hallway, mumbling an excuse to Rachel and shutting the door behind him. He wanted privacy for this.
"It is weird, yes." Kurt began, and Blaine looked crestfallen. "But it's also...incredibly romantic. Like Cinderella, except there are no glass shoes or ugly stepsisters involved."
A moment passed.
"I owe you the world's biggest apology, Kurt. I haven't been fair to you, I haven't been honest with you, I haven't done anything right with you and I just want another chance to put it right, or at least a chance to explain myself and then you can make up your mind about me. You can tell me you never want to see me again, if that's what you want, and I'll walk out this building satisfied that at least, I've been honest with you."
Blaine said all of this in one big rush, his voice quivering and cracking on the words, and Kurt's heart clenched tightly in his chest.
"Then be honest with me." Kurt said softly, staggering a little on his crutches under the force of the moment.
Blaine drew in breath and exhaled with control several times, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. Kurt noticed that his hands trembled at his sides – nerves, or emotion?
"I love you." He said, swallowing hard. "I didn't realise it before, but I do. I was a coward, I...I let my past get in the way of something amazing and I was wrong, I was so wrong, to do that. I was stupid and an idiot and every other possible name you can come up with to describe me in a negative way. The truth is, I don't deserve you. I don't. I spend most of my time caring for my mentally ill mother, and what little time I have left, I'm flying across the globe from country to country but never actually getting to see any of it."
He breathed hard, fighting tears and crossing and uncrossing his arms, stepping from foot to foot, clearly struggling and Kurt wanted nothing more than to let go of those damn crutches, grasp his hands in his own, and tell him everything that he knew he needed to hear and everything that he felt.
But Blaine wasn't done.
"And I-I'm scared that her illness is hereditary and after everything I've had-had to go through, in my life, that's looking like a hell of a good possibility. You shouldn't have to burden yourself with-with someone who's damaged goods, Kurt. I know that I pretend to be the happy, friendly flight attendant at work but that's just my job, I have to do that, and I suppose a part of it is genuine but most of the time, it's not. I want to be happy and you deserve better than me but all I want is...is you."
Kurt didn't even realise he was crying until he felt salty tears drip down into the neckline of his shirt, staining the material with little dark spots. He had never seen such intensity in another person's eyes until his own made contact with Blaine's, and he felt everything within him expand with the force of his words.
"I want you, too." Kurt choked out. "You really hurt me, and I should be pissed off with you, and I suppose on some level I am, but I don't care about any of that because you're here and..." he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence under another wave of tears. He didn't bother wiping them away; as soon as he did, fresh ones would appear in their place. "How did you get here?"
"I took a taxi from Queens. It cost me $25 dollars but it was worth it just to see you. I'm pretty sure the cab driver judged me the entire way over here." Blaine said.
His aim was humour, but the moment was too serious for Kurt to appreciate the funny way he cracked a joke, the slightly sarcastic edge in his voice when he made a smart remark.
"Queens?" Kurt repeated dumbly, then cringed inwardly for sounding like an idiot.
"Yeah, I live in Queens. Didn't I tell you that before? I have to stay there with my mom." He said, the nerves creeping back in and making him sound on edge. "But now that I know where you live...I can come here. You know, if you'll...if you'll have me. If you'll let me, that is. And if you don't, that's fine. I know I hurt you. I know I made a mistake-"
"I know, Blaine." Kurt cut across, his voice as soft and light as a feather. Careful. Fragile. "I understand. And I don't care."
"-and I know that I've probably ruined any chance of – wait, what were you saying?" Blaine stops in his tracks, eyes wide and searching.
"I don't care." Kurt repeated, his throat dry. "I don't care and I'm willing to look past all of your mistakes or what kind of person you think you are because I love you too much to even try and let you walk out this building with nothing."
"I will." For the first time that day, Kurt smiled, feeling his heart beat a mile a minute somewhere in the region of his throat. "I will."
And then Blaine laughed, the warm, loud, hearty laugh that Kurt loved so much and had missed just as equally, almost echoing off the walls of the deserted hallway. It was music to Kurt's ears and he couldn't remember ever feeling this...uplifted. Happy. Satisfied with life.
And, for the first time, he found himself laughing with him, an almost bewildered, disbelieving laugh, as if all of this was some kind of complex dream that he wasn't sure he wanted to wake up from just yet.
"Let me make this up to you, Kurt. I want to. I owe you so many things and I want to do all of right this time." Blaine begged, reaching for Kurt's wrists and closing his warm fingers around them, the skin-on-skin contact delightful after such a long amount of time spent in misery.
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little...preoccupied." Kurt pointed out, glancing in the direction of his crutches, but his mind was already racing ahead to all the possibilities that Blaine's offer entailed.
"Doesn't matter, we'll get a cab. I'll carry you up to my apartment if that's what I have to do. I am strong, you know." He said when he saw Kurt's sceptical expression.
"I don't doubt that you are."
"So?" Blaine asked, expression hopeful.
"I'll give Rachel an excuse. Or maybe I won't, she deserves it. I don't want to leave my family here though, they came especially to see me..." Kurt floundered, wondering what to do.
One part of his mind – the bigger part – desperately wanted to go back with Blaine to his apartment, to spend what was left of the day with him, to reconnect after so long.
The other part of his mind – the smaller and yet more rational one – was telling him that he shouldn't do it; that it was rude to his guests and, anyway, he would only get hurt again if this ended the same way it had before.
But what if it doesn't? He asked himself. What if this could change everything? I can live with a lot of things, but I won't live with regret.
"I'm sure they'll live just for one night." Blaine said quietly, and really, it should be illegal for a man like Blaine to have eyelashes that long because it wasn't fair the way he was fluttering them provocatively.
Screw them, this is the man I'm in love with. I'll call them all later and apologise but right now, I have to make a decision for myself. Not for them, not for anyone else, but for me.
And I choose Blaine.
"I'm sure they will." Kurt said teasingly, and let his lips curve into a sly smile that would let Blaine know that he accepted his offer.
He swore that not even stars could shine as bright as Blaine's eyes did at that very moment. Was he some kind of god? Whatever he was, Kurt wanted him. And he wanted him so badly it was like an ache that reached right down into the very pit of his stomach, the kind that dulls the body and fogs the mind until the person can think of nothing but wanting the other.
"You'll come?" Oh, he has no idea.
"I'll come." Kurt replied. I don't care what you owe me. I want to be with you.
"I better go call a cab, then."
If sexual tension was a brick wall, he wouldn't be able to get down the hallway. His whole body hummed with delight and anticipation as he watched Blaine walk a little way away to order a taxi to take them to his apartment. He watched the way the smooth muscles in his back and shoulders flexed under the material of his clothes, the line of his neck and the shine of the light on his dark hair.
They hadn't even got to the bedroom yet and Kurt was already wet in the mouth at the thought of him. Not that he was expecting that – not at all. But if it did happen, he was going to welcome it with open arms. It had been far too long.
"Cab's coming in five." Blaine said, putting his cellphone back in his pocket and walking towards him, a shy smile on his face.
"I feel so candid." Kurt commented. "Like I'm...sneaking out or something."
"Sneaking out? What are you, fourteen?" Blaine joked, laughing his usual warm laugh.
"It just feels...unbelievable. That you managed to track me down across three New York districts just to see me. Like Cinderella, without the glass slipper."
"I did always have a soft spot for that movie, especially when I was a kid." Blaine smiled. "Maybe it rubbed off on me."
"I preferred The Little Mermaid, myself." Kurt replied. I missed this. I missed this easy, natural conversation with another person. No, not with another person – with a person. With Blaine. I missed this with Blaine.
Blaine's cell beeped in his pocket.
"The cab's here. Do you...?" Blaine gestured awkwardly to Kurt's bandaged foot and crutches. "Need any help?"
"I think I'll be fine. There's an elevator anyway, as long as I don't put too much pressure on it I should be okay." Kurt said. "Thank you, anyway."
"You know me." Blaine said, winking and making Kurt's flutter. "Always a gentleman."
As it happened, he did insist on helping Kurt down the three steps outside the building and into the waiting taxi and Kurt was happy enough to let him. He seemed to be making up for lost time so he decided he might as well give him that – a chance at redemption, except he already had Kurt's forgiveness.
But guilt was powerful and he could see that Blaine wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't try his very best to put things right.
The cab ride to Blaine's apartment was quiet but not uncomfortable; it felt candid, sneaking away from his family and friends. He felt like a teenager again, but without the awkward, embarrassing moments that made you want to curl up and die on the spot. It felt the way his teenage years were supposed to have been like; new, exciting, full of strange and often confusing experiences, but ones that were ultimately the best you would ever have.
And he hadn't even set foot in his apartment yet.
When they arrived, Kurt was pleasantly surprised; the building was white-washed and looked clean, if you ignored the trash bags on the sidewalk outside, and there were a few people about even in the oncoming evening. Blaine waved to a woman walking the smallest dog Kurt had ever seen as he, yet again, insisted on helping Kurt out of the cab and paid the driver the required fare.
"I would have paid, you know." Kurt said, rolling his eyes at Blaine's chivalry. "I just forgot my wallet. I didn't think I would be doing a Romeo and Juliet at such short notice."
"I'll give you a warning next time." Blaine promised, holding out his arm for Kurt to hold in such a Victorian-era fashion that Kurt held back a snorting laugh that would surely have made Blaine, and everyone else on the sidewalk, stare at him.
Nonetheless, he accepted it and gave the other crutch to Blaine to carry since he didn't need it.
Inside, the walls were painted a bright blue and there was an enormous cactus in a terracotta pot next to the flight of steps that wound up to each of the floors – six in total, he had counted whilst they were outside. Kurt wondered who had decorated because the paint looked fairly new, no chips or scratches in sight.
"Who did the paint job?" Kurt asked as Blaine shut the door behind them. He smiled.
"I did, actually. Well, me and a couple of other guys in the building. It was my mom who picked out the colour. Or rather, she suggested it." Blaine explained. "Elevator's this way."
Okay, he is actually perfect. What kind of guy goes out of his way to redecorate an old hallway voluntarily and not ask for anything in return?
The elevator also looked new – suspiciously new, as if it'd sprung from the wall at the very moment Kurt had injured himself and had been in dire need of one. The chrome of the sliding doors reflected the light from overhead and distorted Kurt's reflection as Blaine pressed the button to call it down.
"Fourth floor is me. It's actually the best floor in the building, or rather, the best I could afford." His voice was strained – he was trying hard to make small talk.
Too hard, in fact. It was a sure sign of nerves and Kurt wished he had the ability to make some kind of affectionate gesture to take the edge off whatever butterflies were fluttering around in his stomach.
The ride up was smooth and soothing; this elevator was definitely brand-new.
"You have no idea what a relief it is not to take four flights of stairs every day." Blaine commented casually. "Before they installed this, it was a nightmare. Everyone in the building complained enough so they eventually had to install the elevator."
"A prime example of why you shouldn't underestimate the power of the people." Kurt replied, as the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open.
"This is us. Do you need help getting to the door?" Such a gentleman.
"I can manage, really." Kurt insisted. "You don't have to keep playing Cary Grant."
"Oh, but I think I do." Blaine grinned, fumbling with the keys before finding the right one and jamming it into a rather battered-looking lock belonging to apartment 22D.
The door swung open with a loud creak and Kurt barely was able to register his first impression of the inside before his crutches were taken from him and the carpet of the hallway disappeared from underneath his feet.
"What the hell are you doing?" he shrieked, rather loudly and shrilly, grasping at Blaine's neck to stop himself from sliding out of his arms – apparently, he had decided to make good on his offer to carry him into the apartment.
"I told you I would carry you in, didn't I?" said Blaine, his eyebrows quirking upwards in a what did you expect? sort of expression.
"I didn't think you were serious! Put me down!"
"Calm down, will you? It's all part of the plan." Blaine said.
"What plan?" Kurt asked sceptically.
"The plan to make it up to you." Blaine sounded so serious, the comedy of the moment had evaporated into thin air with Kurt's shrieks; and Kurt was no longer so annoyed at being airborne by surprise.
"I can deal with that." Kurt agreed.
"Very well. Shall we?" Blaine asked.
"You keep saying that."
"Shall we? You really do sound like Cary Grant."
"Oh, be quiet. I'm going to carry you in now."
Kurt could feel Blaine's heartbeat almost right against his chest, the heat of his body seeping through his clothes and into his skin. Comedy aside, it was actually one of the most romantic things anyone had ever done for him; the first, naturally, was being tracked down across several New York districts just for this one moment of solitude. It was just lucky that they had both been done by the same person.
He was dropped onto the couch gently – a soft, springy couch but had the misfortune of being a terrible mustard colour, in no way matching the carpet nor the curtains that hung over the living room window.
"Yeah, I know." Blaine said, as if he'd read Kurt's own thoughts. "The couch is hideous. But it's still in pretty good condition even if it...doesn't quite match."
"Doesn't quite match? Blaine, this shade of yellow should never been seen in a person's living room. At all." Kurt said. "In fact, it's a crime against interior design."
"Maybe you should arrest me for it."
If Kurt didn't know better – or rather, knew better and chose to ignore it – then that was an innuendo and his cheeks turned pink at the insinuation in Blaine's words. He was so new to this it was ridiculous. They'd already had sex! This shouldn't be so difficult!
"It's funny you should say that – I was once Officer Krupke in my high school's production of West Side Story."
"Really?" Blaine sounded surprised.
"Why is that so shocking to you?" Kurt asked, crossing his legs and carefully positioning his injured foot on one of the couch cushions.
"I didn't think you were a West Side Story type." Blaine said honestly.
"I didn't think I was, until I saw the movie when I was fourteen – yes, I saw it late, okay? – and the whole romance of it blew me away." He sighed, smiling slightly. "Plus, it's based on the greatest love story ever told, Romeo and Juliet, though I've always thought it was unnecessary that they both had to die in the end."
"But that's the romantic part!" Blaine said. "They loved each other so much, they couldn't be apart from each other in life or in death. You're missing the point."
"It's morbid." Kurt said.
"It's romantic." countered Blaine.
"It's depressing." Kurt quipped.
"Then what about this?" Blaine asked, and disappeared round the couch from Kurt's line of sight.
He was just about to ask, "What about what?" when Blaine bent over the back of the couch and caught Kurt's open mouth in a sweet, soft kiss that was all tenderness and gentleness and the warmth of his lips and tongue.
"Was that romantic enough for you?" Blaine asked softly, and Kurt could see each individual eyelash on his eyes, which from this angle looked golden brown. "Not morbid or depressing in any way?"
"Definitely not." Kurt said, a smile spreading across his face. And then he heard himself say, "Do that again."
And so he did. Harder this time, allowing his tongue to trace the edge of Kurt's lips. It was a slightly awkward angle like this, but Kurt didn't feel like caring. It was everything he had desperately craved for far too long.
"I've missed this." Kurt said softly.
"So have I. I was an idiot for too long and I really, really regret it." Blaine replied. "I hope you'll be able to forgive me."
Kurt laughed – he couldn't remember the last time he had laughed.
"Are you really that obtuse? I already have forgiven you. I forgave you as soon as you turned up at my door and if you don't believe me, I may have to slap you." He was teasing, but there was an undertone of seriousness in his voice. He had to make him understand that he didn't owe Kurt anything; he was all he wanted, nothing more and nothing less.
Blaine vaulted over the back of the sofa suddenly with a loud thump, making the couch cushions bounce and jostling Kurt out of his rather comfortable position.
"Why the acrobatics?" he asked, reaching out to take Blaine's hand in his. Smooth and warm just as he remembered it, the gentle pressure of his fingers was more than enough, and yet not enough at the same time.
"Impulsive action?" Blaine offered by way of explanation.
"How about this?" Kurt murmured, echoing Blaine's question from before and pressing their lips together again, immediately opening his mouth to allow Blaine's tongue to flick a hot, wet path around the inside of his mouth, across the roof of his mouth and along the back of his teeth. He felt Blaine's free hand fist the hem of his shirt, but the thought of wrinkling the fabric was in the furthest part of Kurt's mind.
Blaine's tongue caught his own, and Kurt allowed himself to let out a tiny moan of approval, his breath coming in short pants when they separated for air.
"Do you want to do...this...here, or...?" Blaine gestured vaguely around the living room, flustered, and swallowed audibly.
"What exactly are we talking about here?" Kurt asked, playing coy.
"What do you think I'm talking about?" Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow and Kurt was sure that was a definite innuendo. He felt his whole body grow warm and flushed under his suggestive gaze, but he didn't want to give in; he would keep this up for as long as he could before he cracked.
"If I'm thinking about what you're thinking about, I say we cut out the middle man...it's been too long." Kurt swallowed nervously, acting braver than he felt inside. He wanted to do this, he really, really did, but he didn't want to fuck things up again. Not now, not when everything was finally falling into place.
An intense gaze, a small smile, and then Kurt felt himself being lifted off the couch and within seconds he was laying down across it, his head on the arm of the couch where a small, equally mismatched cushion had been placed there as a makeshift headrest. Blaine was hovering over him, knees bracketing his hips on either side and being careful of his still-injured foot, which was stretched out ahead of him, on the other end of the couch. Kurt tried not to think about the fact that Blaine's ass was positioned right over his crotch, concentrating instead on the present moment rather than the immediate future.
They were so close, their noses brushed together and they could feel each other's breath on their faces.
"Just...just relax." Blaine said. "Let me do this for you."
"Okay." Kurt breathed.
Moments later, Blaine's lips were back on his, kissing gently, slowly, allowing himself time to explore Kurt's mouth. Small noises of pleasure made their way from Kurt's throat and he hummed in contentment, enjoying the slow drag of their lips and the caress of their tongues. His hand came up to grasp the back of Blaine's neck, holding him closer, and at the same time Blaine moved from his lips to his jaw, covering the skin with barely-there kisses, all the while moving down towards Kurt's throat and the juncture of his shoulder. Kurt let his eyes fall closed and he put his head back against the cushion.
The new angle allowed their hips to align almost perfectly and the resulting sensations sent shockwaves through Kurt's body. He felt Blaine's tongue dip out to smooth over the red marks on his throat where he had nipped at the skin, his lips tracing the contours of Kurt's collarbone and shoulder where he'd pulled the fabric of shirt away. Kurt, feeling bold, let his hands smooth down the backs of Blaine's thighs, eliciting a high-pitched sound of pleasure from the man above him, and Oh, I could definitely put this to good use.
"We should've done this sooner." Kurt gasped, the last letters slurring as he registered Blaine unbuttoning his shirt, the pads of his fingers brushing the skin. "You are such an idiot."
"I know." Blaine murmured. "And, once again, I'm sorry."
"I don't care as long as you keep doing – that!" Kurt moaned, gripping Blaine's shoulders as he heard the sound of his pants zipper opening and felt a warm, strong hand slipping into his underwear to grip his swollen erection, pressing his thumb teasingly over the red tip and eliciting another, louder moan from Kurt. "For goodness' sake, Blaine."
"Are you going to take off your clothes too?"
"Don't rush me."
"I wasn't trying to."
Blaine stopped what he was doing and Kurt groaned, scowling at him. He was sensitive and on edge and he wasn't the mood for – if you could excuse his use of the term – fucking around here.
"Can I take your pants off, at least?" Kurt whined, so childlike that Blaine laughed against the warm skin of stomach, the rumbling vibrations spreading through his body.
"Yes, you may." Blaine agreed after a moment, grinning like the cat who got the cream. He lowered his mouth to Kurt's erection, lips millimetres from the tip but not quite close enough for contact, before swooping back up and sitting back on his haunches where he was straddling him. "Go ahead."
"Are you always this annoying?" Kurt huffed, making short work of Blaine's pants and underwear, so that their bare skin touched at every delicious pressure point. Knees to knees, toes to toes, thighs to thighs, they were completely aligned.
"You'll have to stick around long enough to find out the answer to that question." Blaine gave Kurt a cocky grin, showing his perfectly white teeth that were so stereotypically American. You'd think he was from California, not New York, just by the state of those teeth.
Determined to end Blaine's sense of authority, Kurt swiftly gripped the base of his already-purpling erection, hard to the point of discomfort, and gave one, long smooth stroke right to the tip, deliberately ignoring the head. The subsequent gasp and long-drawn-out moan that Blaine gave told him that he'd succeeded in his mission; he felt his hips twitch above his own and his thighs trembled under the strain.
"Getting your own back?" Blaine asked through his panting breath.
"Yes, actually." Kurt asserted, stroking again, harder this time. It was difficult without lube but Blaine seemed to enjoy it, so he carried on.
"You know, if you keep doing that, this is going to be over way too early." Blaine gasped, covering Kurt's hand with his palm to stop his movements. "And I don't want it to be."
"Neither do I, but I enjoy teasing you." Kurt quipped. "It's fun." Another stroke, this time deliberately paying attention to the head, pressing his thumb into the sensitive slit.
"I suppose," Blaine's breath caught in his throat, "I deserve it."
"Yes, you do." Kurt said simply, never letting up his ministrations. A final, sharp press to the head and Kurt pulls back, pleased with himself as he watches Blaine's red cheeks puff out with each breath he takes. He rocked his hips forward so that his own painfully hard erection slips between Blaine's thighs, making very clear what he intended to do. The blunt tip pressed momentarily against Blaine's tightly clenched hole, and he moaned again.
"I thought this was about me taking care of you." he said.
"You deserve it just as much as I do, even if you don't think you do." was the reply he got from Kurt. He rocked forward again, not too much pressure, and bit back a groan at the sensation. "Got any...?" he trailed off.
Blaine reached down to his discarded pants where they lay on the floor and retrieved a small blue bottle. Kurt looked at him quizzically, an eyebrow raised.
"I was ridiculously optimistic." he shrugged.
Wordlessly, Kurt took it from him and applied a little lube to his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up first – he knew that cold lubricant on an extremely sensitive part of your body was most unpleasant. Not that he'd tried it often...he was, ah, more the type to receive rather than to give in these situations.
Without even receiving an instruction, Blaine parted his legs a little in Kurt's lap to allow him better access. When Kurt was done, he put the bottle aside and slowly, tenderly, smoothed the pads of his fingers over the soft skin of Blaine's inner thighs, teasing. As it turned out, the lube was cold because Blaine shivered and goosebumps erupted across his skin, making the fine hairs there stand on end.
But it wasn't a bad shiver – it was a good shiver, and Kurt took that as a sign to carry on further in search of what he was really looking for. And when he found it, Blaine let out the loudest moan Kurt had ever heard; louder than imaginable, and he immediately turned red and ducked his head in embarrassment when Kurt giggled and pressed harder against the little hole between Blaine's ass cheeks, not completely going in but just enough to drive him – well – wild.
One finger, and Kurt could see that Blaine was trying hard not to embarrass himself further by crying out. He could feel the muscles in his thighs and legs straining with effort and a hot, burning flash of arousal and pride and satisfaction ran through Kurt's body. He was the one who had done this; he was making Blaine feel like this.
Blaine might think he owed Kurt something, but he would be damned if he didn't make Blaine feel exactly like the amazing person that he was. The amazing person that Kurt loved.
Kurt inserted another finger, pressing and stretching to prepare Blaine for him, to make this as incredible as it should be for him. He himself was struggling to contain his pleasure; but he knew he had to take things slow. They had all night to do this.
Even if he had to suffer what would probably be a very, very long lecture about family and blowing off your family from his parents later, despite him – as of today – being twenty four years old and allowed to do whatever he wanted.
Plus, he'd never hear the end of it from Rachel.
It was the sharp thrust of Blaine's hips that brought him back from his thoughts, forcing his fingers deeper and automatically leading to his prostate, which Kurt now made full and eager use of since Blaine had essentially done him the good of finding it. Slow, torturous caresses were all Kurt needed to do, feeling the warmth clenched around his fingers with the sound of Blaine's pleasure in his ears.
"I-I think I'm good now." Blaine said, closing his fingers around Kurt's wrist. "I won't last."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Just...just do it. And I know how that sounds, but, just do it." Blaine said.
"If you're sure." Kurt swallowed, removing his fingers and retrieving the bottle of lube once more. But Blaine stopped him again.
"No." He shook his head. "I want to feel it. I want to feel you."
"Okay." Kurt breathed. Shifting his hips, he used his hand to guide himself to Blaine's hole, lining himself up for the easiest and most pleasurable entry. Every nerve in his body was tingling as though thrumming with an electric buzz; he could hear the beat of his heart in his ears.
Kurt eased forward at the same time Blaine did, pushing towards each other until Kurt was completely sheathed in the sudden warmth that sent his mind racing and his body crazy. Their breathing was the only sound that could be heard, except for the occasional squeak of the couch springs.
"Move." Blaine panted. And then, as an afterthought, "Please."
Always so eloquent, even in the throes of passion, Kurt thought, hiding a smirk.
"Together." Kurt said. "Let's do it together."
Slowly, but surely, Kurt began to move in long thrusts, making sure that the tip of his erection pressed against Blaine's prostate on every movement. He threw his head back and allowed himself tiny grunts and moans of pleasure, reaching to take Blaine's hand where it lay at his side.
Blaine in turn rocked forward in his lap, pulling backwards and pushing forwards, essentially sliding himself onto Kurt's erection – impaling himself over and over, creating a delicious friction that build quickly and hotly between their joined bodies.
Kurt was sure there would be bruises in the morning where their hips were rubbing together, but he didn't care.
He gripped Blaine's hips to hold him steady with a sweaty hand, guiding the direction of his movements as their pace quickened and the rough slide of their bodies on the material of the couch became more audible. Their eye contact never faltered; always looking into each other's eyes, keeping up their gaze. It made everything much more intense and real, at the same time as being surreal – and if you'd pinched Kurt now to make sure he wasn't dreaming, he wouldn't have believed his own senses when the pinch hurt.
Because this was real and he was having hard time believing it.
Kurt moved faster, driving himself forward with deeper and deeper thrusts, and soon he was close; Blaine was too, he could tell, by the shine of lust in his eyes and the sheen of sweat on his throat, which Kurt longed to taste. Blaine leant forward to press wet kisses across Kurt's chest, and he tangled his fingers in the loose hairs at the back of Blaine's neck, holding him there, wanting to have him close when he came.
And when he did, the burning pulses of pleasure that rocked his body sent stars bursting behind his eyes; the sporadic clenching of muscles and the oversensitivity making them both cry out, unashamed.
They shuddered, coming down from their high together, stuck together with sweat and come and unbelievably, completely, blissfully happy.
"I love you." Blaine murmured against Kurt's chest, muffled. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realise that."
"Don't apologise." Even speaking seemed to take an enormous amount of effort; Kurt's bones felt like jelly, as if he might sink into the couch and never return. "And I love you, too."
"We should move. Or clean up, at least." Blaine said.
"I don't want to do that." Kurt rested his cheek against the top of Blaine's head. "I want to stay here."
"So do I."
"Then we will." Kurt said.
"I like that plan."
"Of course you do. I thought of it."
Blaine weakly hit Kurt on the arm, too exhausted to do anything else. For now, they could just be.
Kurt awoke the next morning with a crick in his neck, sore legs, seven missed calls and twice as many text messages.
He was also very, very warm.
For a moment he was confused; had he used the electric blanket last night? But upon blinking a few times and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he noticed that the room he was in was not his own. In fact, the apartment wasn't his own.
And then he registered the horrid yellow of the couch he was lying on and it all came back to him.
The warm thing was a person. No, not a person – Blaine. He was fast asleep on Kurt's chest, a peaceful look on his face. The rhythmic movement of his chest as he breathed in an out was incredibly soothing and reassuring; a reminder that last night hadn't been a dream.
He would have got up, but he couldn't because of Blaine's position on the couch, and it would be rude to wake him up when he looked so content. So he resorted to lying there, eyes closed, turning things over in his mind. The messages and calls would wait; he wanted to savour this.
Had it really been nine months since they had first met? It felt like nine days; so much had already happened and so much was going to happen, if that's what Blaine wanted. It was certainly what he himself wanted; he wanted everything.
This was his chance to have his own fairytale ending and he was going to take it.
Blaine moved suddenly in his sleep, then jolted awake, almost elbowing Kurt in the stomach in the process.
"Good morning." Kurt said.
"Morning," Blaine replied sleepily, then grinned. "What time is it?"
"I have absolutely no idea."
"Good. We have all the time in the world." Blaine nuzzled against his chest, blinking rapidly in the gloom. "How's your foot, by the way? We're kind of in an awkward position here."
Kurt wiggled his ankle experimentally. It ached, but it wasn't too painful. "It's okay. Better, actually."
"So I won't have to keep carrying you around?"
"Sadly, no, as enjoyable that was." Kurt smiled.
"You do realise we're both still naked, right?" Blaine asked.
"And you just killed the mood." Kurt said. "Really, Blaine? I hadn't noticed."
"We should get off the couch. And put some clothes on." Blaine suggested. Then, he winced and wrinkled his nose. "And – uh – we should clean up, too."
"I'm all for conserving water, so...we should do it together?" Kurt allowed the innuendo to creep into his voice, pressing himself close so that Blaine could feel the solid weight of his body.
Blaine's grin from the previous night returned.
"I like the sound of that."
An hour or so later, when they were both washed and dressed and sitting at the old table in Blaine's tiny open-plan kitchen, the conversation turned to a more serious topic.
Nursing mugs of steaming coffee, they sat opposite each other and wondered how to start. Neither wanted to take that first step, but they knew that they had to, especially after what had happened last night.
"Where do we go from here?" Blaine asked tentatively. "What happens now?"
"To be honest..." Kurt looked around the room, at the sink and the cupboards. "I don't know. This is the first time I've really felt something for someone and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do it."
"You're not the only one. I mean, yeah, I've...dated before but I was naive to think that it was anything serious, or really anything real. This, here, right now...this feels real." He reached across the table to take Kurt's hand. "And I hope it does for you, too."
"It does." Kurt nodded. "Blaine, you have no idea how this feels to me, like everything I've ever wanted has come to me at once and I have to take advantage of it. If I don't, I know I'll regret it forever."
"Regret is a powerful thing." Blaine commented. "I would know."
"Please don't be so hard on yourself." Kurt said pleadingly. "I hate it when you do that."
"I'll try not to. For you." was Blaine's sincere reply. "But I can't make any promises."
"We have all the time in the world." Kurt said. "We don't have to rush anything."
"I really do love you."
"And I really, really want to be with you."
"Is that all you're going to say?" Blaine asked then.
"I've already said everything I need to." Kurt replied, swallowing a gulp of coffee. "I don't need to say anything else, unless you want me to."
"No, it's okay." Blaine said. "I know. I understand."
A pause. Kurt's phone vibrated on the table near the couch, but he ignored it.
"So where do we stand?" Kurt asked.
"Anywhere you want us to." Blaine said. "Wherever that is, I'm right there with you."
A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaah! Well, what did you think? As always, let me know your thoughts/theories/views in a review!