Halloween had been an uproarious success, Kurt thought, as he retrieved his house key from where he'd stashed it in the top of his thigh-high boots. His and Blaine's costumes had been perfect, if he didn't say so himself; the few disapproving comments they'd received that evening had been along the lines of them being too old for trick-or-treating, not about the costumes themselves. He and Blaine had spent the last hour each trying to outdo the other's impressions, and Kurt had laughed more that evening than he could remember doing in the past three weeks combined, falling into gales until his sides ached and he was short of breath and he and Blaine were holding each other up. Kurt had also gotten to spend the entire time looking at Blaine's arms, which were really nice and currently looped around Kurt's middle as Blaine huddling into his back for warmth, nose tucked into the crook of his neck, while he got the front door open. Kurt took a deep breath, feeling the pressure of Blaine's forearms as his chest expanded, and the lock slid open with a dull thunk.
The house was dark inside. Finn was out with Rachel for the evening and his parents were at the community center's haunted house, drumming up local support for his dad's fledgeling campaign. They would be out for some time yet; a quick glance through the dim living room to the wall clock told Kurt that it was only a little past eight. They had ended their own evening out early because, as wonderful as Blaine's costume was, and despite the unseasonably warm weather, it was still too cold to be out in just a t-shirt. Blaine had spent the walk back with his arm tucked between Kurt's back and his faux fur jacket, fingers curling around his rib cage, and it had made Kurt's side tingle.
"Brrr," Blaine said, once the door was shut behind them and Kurt had twisted the lock back into place. He took his sunglasses off and hooked them on the neck of his t-shirt, weighing it down and baring just a little more skin, so that Kurt could see the hollow beneath his throat. Kurt pushed his own glasses off as well, up onto his head, and grinned.
"Still cold?" he asked, hooking Blaine's chain (which was chilled to the touch) with his forefinger and giving it a little tug. Blaine stepped forward into his personal space, eyes fluttering down to his lips. Kurt expected the kiss – he'd become quite good at noticing when Blaine wanted to kiss him, which was unfortunately much more often than they got the chance to kiss – but it came without any of the playful impersonation that Blaine had been keeping up all night. Instead he pushed forward eagerly and they stood and swayed in spot with the force of it. Blaine's lips were cool but the inside seam of his mouth was warm and wanting, parting a little bit more to suck and slid against Kurt's own. Blaine kissed his top lip, landing the kiss more on the dip below the nose than the lip, before he broke off and latched onto the bottom one instead. The tip of his tongue brushed against the plumped flesh, and Kurt felt as though his heart were beating twice as hard to get all of his blood rushing to his face as quickly as possible.
Kurt would have thought that he'd get desensitized to Blaine's kisses as time went on, but it seemed the opposite was true: the more time they spent kissing, the more time Kurt wanted to spend kissing. He let his lips part, widening Blaine's with the light downward push of his own, slipped his tongue in to push beneath Blaine's, and – Oh. Right. The chewing gum Blaine had been chomping on all evening.
Kurt leaned back and their lips parted with a soft smack of broken suction. Blaine grinned at him a little sheepishly and pulled the gum out while he fished the wrapper from his back pocket. He folded it up neatly and flicked the wad into the hallway waste basket.
Kurt arched an eyebrow. Blaine raised a hand and made a show of wiping lip gloss off of his mouth. Biting back an amused snort, Kurt grinned and said, "Call it even?"
"Oh, no," Blaine said with wide-eyed sincerity. "I definitely owe you a kiss."
He pressed in again, pressing a sweet peck to the corner of Kurt's wide smile before his teeth suddenly slipped from behind his lips and he nibbled on the side of Kurt's mouth. Kurt's hand twisted up in his chain and his other rubbed up the side of Blaine's arm, feeling the way his skin was still pimpled from exposure to the cold, and the compact muscles beneath.
"Mmm… hold on," he said, pressing his fist against Blaine's sternum and pushing him back. His stomach swooped a little when he got a look at Blaine's face, so close, with his eyes dark and glittering and his lips still puckered. Kurt let his hand slip from Blaine's necklace (and then let his fingertips skim Blaine's t-shirt as they dropped down, brushing the real torso beneath the cotton). "You hear that?"
The shades on the living room windows were only partially drawn – they were open enough to let in light from the street lamps and, when Kurt crept over and peeked out, to see the gaggle of chattering kids making their way toward his house.
"Let's go upstairs," he said, glancing over his shoulder at Blaine, who was still standing in the front hall and watching him with a fond expression.
"And hide from the third graders?" Blaine stage whispered.
Kurt rolled his eyes. "If you'd rather stay down here and answer the door than pretend nobody's home and come up to my room…"
"Whoa, hey, I didn't say that," Blaine said quickly. "After you."
As luck would have it Kurt's bedroom faced the backyard, so Kurt was able to switch on the light without giving themselves away to every passerby on the street. He blinked rapidly at the sudden yellow glow of florescent light, and once his eyes had adjusted he stepped in front of his dresser mirror. He plucked his sunglasses off of his head, dropped them, and peeled off the wig. It hadn't been itchy or uncomfortable – he and Blaine had spent a gleeful two weeks together searching shops for all of the pieces for their costumes, so Kurt had had the time to find a decent wig – but it felt good to take it off all the same. He set it down more carefully than he had with the sunglasses, and then reached back up and began to take the numerous bobby pins out of his hair.
Blaine, meanwhile, made a beeline for Kurt's bed and flopped down on the corner of it. He toed his shoes off and drew his legs up, sitting cross-legged, and his sunglasses and chain ended up in the alcove beside the bed. Kurt watched in the mirror as he upended their trick-or-treat bags onto the mattress and began to shift through the pile. His eyes drifted, following the curves of Blaine's folded legs and the lines of his inseams.
Usually, Kurt redirected his gaze before it reached the obvious destination. But this time he just… didn't.
"Did you see what Sugar was handing out?" Blaine asked, lifting the pink gift basket out of the mound of candy and picking through the tissue paper. "These candy bars have her face on them. Here's a chocolate grammy, and I think this might actually be gold foil… oh, and a candy microphone!" He pulled out the toy – pink (naturally) transparent plastic with little hard candies stuffed into the handle – and turned it over in his hands with a delighted grin. "I haven't seen these for years. I thought they stopped making them."
Kurt watched Blaine's fingers span across the handle and he could feel his cheeks warm up a bit as his mind made certain connections that he usually steered away from. Blaine dropped it on top of the pile of candy and went back to the gift basket.
"And there's a CD in here called Ear Candy. I'm going out on a limb and guessing it's her singing," he said, waving the CD so Kurt could see that the case also had her face slapped on it. Blaine read the back, and then glanced up at Kurt. "Would it be unethical to scope out the competition?"
Kurt cracked up. Catching Blaine's puzzled expression in the mirror, he turned around as he pulled out the last bobby pin and said, "I forgot you've never heard her sing. Trust me, she's not competition."
If anyone was, it was Mercedes, and the thought sobered him. He kept hoping it would blow over and Mercedes would get sick of Sugar and come back, but all Mr. Schue had had to say about it was, "If she wants to return she can come to me and apologize, like Santana did," and Kurt hadn't bothered to pass that message along.
The corner of Blaine's mouth drew down in sympathy. He looked back down at the gift basket and said with deliberate cheer, "Hey, look, temporary tattoo stars." Stars with "SUGAR" written in the center, Kurt noted as Blaine held them up. He grinned at him over the top of it. "Want to put one on?"
"A rub-off tattoo?" Kurt questioned.
"Do it in the name of authenticity," Blaine wheedled. "It'll come off when you scrub off the spray tan anyway."
Kurt's lips quirked up and he stepped away from the dresser. "All right," he said. "Why not?"
Blaine beamed and slid off the bed. "I'll be right back," he said, striding out of the room. Kurt sat down on the edge of the bed, opposite the small mound of candy, and bent over to unzip his long boots and free his legs. He stretched them out with a sigh, wiggling his toes and smoothing his hands over his tights. He'd made his costume himself, after finding the perfectly gaudy fabric at the fabric store, and purposefully steered away from minidress territory, so the inclusion of tights hadn't been a necessity for modesty so much as a little extra protection against the October air.
Without the wig or the boots – or Blaine there to share the joke – he started to feel silly sitting there in part of a costume. He was in the middle of peeling off his cropped jacket when Blaine reentered the room. He was holding a hand towel, folded over and dark with water at one end, and in the middle of reading the instructions on the back of the tattoo.
"Looks pretty straight forward," Blaine said cheerfully. He looked up, expression mirthful. "So, which shoulder is it?"
Kurt laughed and gestured to his right. Blaine dropped onto the bed behind him with a bounce, and then Kurt felt him pinch the zipper on the back of his costume and tug it halfway down his back. His laughter dried up, and he carefully licked his lips. The dress had wide straps, but it was sleeveless; he'd expected Blaine to shove the strap up closer to his neck. Not what he was doing now, which was tugging it down off his shoulder and fanning his fingers out over the top of Kurt's shoulder blade. It wasn't anything new – Blaine had touched his shoulder a hundred times before; they'd spent the whole summer exploring shirtless making out – but it felt different.
He jumped a little when Blaine pressed the cool, damp towel to his back. "Sorry," Blaine laughed softly, a warm puff of air that Kurt could feel it on the back of his neck. "You're supposed to wet the area first…" He pressed more firmly, the fine grain of the towel rubbing a little against Kurt's skin, and Kurt's toes curled into the carpet.
"Okay…" Blaine said quietly, and then the towel was removed and Blaine shifted behind him, sitting up on his knees. There was a crinkle of plastic being separated from paper, and then Blaine laid the tattoo over his skin with careful, firm fingers. He held it in place with one hand and began to dab the towel across it with the other. All the while his breath was tickling Kurt's skin, and Kurt felt like even the fine hair on his ears was standing on end.
Perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea, Kurt reflected, as he suddenly found himself on the way to getting an erection. He sat very still, wondering at first if he were the only one feeling the tension. But he could feel when Blaine's breath stilled, and eventually the towel slowed down and then slid away. They both sat there for a breathless moment, neither of them speaking – and then Blaine leaned down and licked one long, wet, obnoxious stripe up over the tattoo and Kurt's bare shoulder.
"Blaine!" Kurt squawked, breaking into a laugh as he jostled his shoulder out from under Blaine's fingers and away from his offending mouth. His palm slapped up and he knocked him back against the mattress, in the midst of a giggle fit himself. Kurt drew his legs up and turned around, hovering over Blaine on his hands and knees. "What was that?"
"I was being resourceful." Blaine was trying to pout, but he was looking far too cheekily to manage it. "The towel wasn't wet enough; the ink wasn't transferring."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should have brought a bowl of water instead of slobbering on me."
"And risk spilling it on the bed when you start roughhousing?" Blaine propped himself up on his elbows and grinned up at him. "And you like it when I slobber on you." He waggled his eyebrows.
Kurt scoffed, but he still leaned down; Blaine pursed his lips merrily and leaned up. They met in the middle with a sweet series of pecks interrupted by the occasional laugh, until Kurt pushed Blaine back into the pillows so that he was lying flat. Blaine settled his hands on Kurt's hips as they continued to kiss. When Kurt slipped his tongue into Blaine's mouth he felt like he could feel the charge ran through Blaine, from his mouth down through his extremities, until his toes were curling into the back of Kurt's thighs and his hands were squeezing his sides tight. Blaine sighed out and seemed to melt underneath Kurt with it, mouth wider and wetter against his as his fingers loosened and then slid up and around, into the small of Kurt's back.
Kurt shivered. Months of free exploration had taught Blaine all of the places to brush and scratch and dig in to ignite Kurt's skin and make it buzz. Blaine's hands ran up his back, pressing firmly into his ribcage, and then Kurt felt his skin prickle as Blaine's fingers skimmed over bare skin.
His half-unzipped dress was falling further off his shoulders, he realized. Kurt broke off from Blaine's mouth when a stray giggle slipped out of him, remained of the ridiculous get up he was in. But Blaine craned his neck up and pressed soft kisses to the softer skin right beneath his jaw and the curve of his neck, and Kurt swallowed when Blaine's tongue flicked out to lick his way back up, running into the hinge beneath his ear. The humor of the situation drained away, replaced with needy heat and appetite.
Kurt lowered himself down onto his forearms and fanned his hands out over Blaine's ribcage, tucking his fingertips between him and the mattress and kneading at his sides through his t-shirt. Blaine grasped Kurt's bare shoulder with one hand and slipped the other into his hair, holding tight and directing his mouth back down.
When their lips met again it was harder and hotter. No quick pecks or sweet brushes – just open-mouthed sucking of lips and the wanton thrust of Blaine's tongue inside Kurt's mouth. Blaine massaged them together hard, then slid his tongue out slowly and rubbed along Kurt's bottom lip. Kurt pressed forward, trying to follow it, and Blaine let out a little whimper that Kurt almost lost in the wet sounds of lips moving against each other and their breaths, so close and so loud.
Blaine pushed at his shoulder, and after a foggy moment Kurt realized what he was asking for. He rolled onto his back and Blaine rolled on top of him, straddling his knees with his hands trapped between him and the mattress.
"God, Kurt," Blaine murmured, scraping his teeth over his lip, then nipping and tugging, then releasing when Kurt gasped and running a soothing lick over the spot, "I could just kiss you forever."
"Just that?" Kurt almost said, but he tightened his hands in Blaine's loose shirt instead. It rode up a little and Kurt slipped his hands beneath it. Blaine groaned quietly, and Kurt could feel the muscles in his abdomen flutter under his hands. Every touch, every kiss with Blaine just felt like it was building on all the ones that come before it, but there was never any peak, any break, and as much as Kurt was curious about how high they could build it up, he was also curious about the fall.
Blaine's hand was cradling his head now, his thumb stroking sweetly. He worked his other hand out from under Kurt's shoulder and laid it on his chest instead, finger tracing a cartoonish heart over Kurt's own rapid-fire one.
This was something that Blaine did. Occasional teasing moments that broke the tension and eased them into a more familiar, comfortable place – that made making out with Blaine fun and sweet and affectionate instead or daunting or presumptuous. Like licking his shoulder. It was a pressure valve, an out, if Kurt cared to take it.
Kurt leaned up and sucked on Blaine's upper lip.
Blaine's hand fisted in the front of Kurt's costume. Kurt felt him inhale, and with his next breath out he was kissing Kurt back with a fervor that made Kurt's whole body thrill. Blaine pulled at Kurt's neckline, making the fabric gape at his sternum. Blaine spread his hand out on his chest, pressing into Kurt's pectoral. He thumbed Kurt's nipple through the costume, and Kurt groaned and jerked up into his hand.
Kurt's hands jumped up to cup Blaine's face. His fingers caught on something hard, and when Kurt pulled away from his lips and his eyes flickered open to look, he noted that one of Blaine's stick-on earrings had come off and was stuck to the back of his hand. That became the secondary focus, however, to the vision of Blaine that was right in front of him. Kurt stared open-mouthed at Blaine's flushed face and puffy lips, and Blaine stared back at him in a dark-eyed daze. God, Blaine's eyes.
Kurt's dick asserted itself with an enthusiastic throb. Usually, this would be the time to stop – cooling off was generally preferable to the embarrassment of locking himself in Blaine's family's fancy guest bathroom and coming in a handful of hastily-grabbed, perfumed tissues after a couple quick jerks, which had happened more than Kurt liked to admit, but… sometimes he just didn't want to stop.
Kurt's fingers brushed over the soft shell of Blaine's ear, which was easily the reddest part of his face, and watched Blaine's eyelashes flutter. He ran his tongue up the same path, and then closed his lips around the lobe and nibbled.
"Kurt." Blaine actually whined it, and it made a wave of heat roll through Kurt, headed straight down to his crotch. Blaine's hand twitched on his chest, bunching up the fabric as Kurt laved his ear and grazed it with his teeth, and he lurched over him. His hand tightened on the back of Kurt's head, and then he was pulling Kurt's mouth away and tipping his head back. He held him there and dropped his mouth against his bared throat.
Kurt gasped quietly at the rough drag of Blaine's tongue. He sucked on his adams apple, then licked the dip below it, then nipped at the jut of Kurt's collarbone. His fingers stroked through his hair, scraping gently at his scalp, and Blaine slid farther down. His mouth pressed into the shallow valley between Kurt's pectorals, followed by a series of slow, closed-mouth kisses over the muscle. When his bottom lip grazed Kurt's nipple, Kurt whined and his back bowed, pushing up into it. Blaine's mouth slid open, lips dragging over Kurt's skin, and he began to leave lingering, sucking kisses across Kurt's chest.
Kurt panted and stared wildly back at the ceiling as Blaine's mouth drew on his skin. His cock was heavy and straining in his tights now, throbbing enviously with every patch of skin Blaine's lips closed over. Kurt's head felt like a slow cooker, swimming and simmering in his own heat. Kurt grabbed Blaine's biceps, squeezing the solid muscle there.
"Come back up here," Kurt whimpered, and then did again when Blaine raised his head and met his eyes. Their mouths crashed together and Kurt kissed him with all the tender ferocity that he had. He slid his hands up, wound his arms around Blaine's strong shoulders and neck, and tightened, trying to get Blaine that much closer.
Blaine's elbows slipped out from under him and he fell against Kurt fully: chest to chest, hips to hips, hard-on to – oh.
Everything froze for a moment. Kurt breathed out very slowly against the side of Blaine's neck, where his face was currently mashed. That was Blaine's dick pressing down into his own, and from the static of Kurt's thoughts rose the realization he could just reach down and touch it. It was right there, it would be so easy. It was almost easier to do it than not to do it.
He thought Blaine would let him. He was as sure as he could be without having heard Blaine say it, anyway.
Sex had been on Kurt's mind a lot recently. It hadn't just been tonight, with Blaine's bare arms standing out in the October night. Things had been different ever since the transfer. It wasn't just that he got to see Blaine every day. It seemed like he was always looking at Blaine now.
Why not just do it? Kurt thought. It had been a great night, they were alone, they were horny. Those weren't at all bad conditions under which to lose your virginity. But…
But even if Kurt had set aside his fantasies of having it happen in a field of flowers (too many bugs) or while he was bathed in the light of a hundred candles (fire hazard), he still wanted his first time to have more magic than being painted orange, wearing a dress, and half-lying on a pile of candy.
"Kurt," Blaine whispered, his own face jammed into Kurt's neck, "do you want to…"
"Stop," Kurt murmured, his arms unlocking themselves from around Blaine's neck and falling against the bed. "We should stop."
Blaine pulled away immediately, hips first; he sat up and slid off Kurt's legs, and then drew his own up a little. Kurt lifted his head unsteadily and glanced down at his crotch. The loose front of his dress did a decent job of hiding his hard-on, he noted – not, he supposed, that either of them weren't fully aware of it.
Blaine licked his lips. "Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize for boners," Kurt said, and then immediately colored. He bit his lip and looked up at the ceiling, then met Blaine's eyes. All things considered, it wasn't as embarrassing as he'd thought it would be. "You didn't do anything wrong," he added more gently. It just… wasn't the right time.
Blaine smiled at him, as sweet as ever, and Kurt felt the awkwardness drain away… aside from his stubborn hard-on. He sat up, fanned his face, and almost excused himself – but it was his house, and he was pretty sure that if he left Blaine in his room he would never have a restful night of sleep lying in this bed ever again. "Would you like to use the bathroom?"
Blaine's face broke into a flushed grin. He rose up onto his knees, grasped Kurt's face, and pressed a quick kiss to Kurt's lips with a mwah!
"Meet me downstairs in five," Blaine said excitedly. "We can have a Toddlers & Tiaras marathon – all of the Halloween horror without any of the supernatural," he said indulgently.
The door had no sooner clicked shut behind Blaine than Kurt was shoving his tights down and yanking the bottom of his dress up. He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked – down the hall, he knew Blaine was doing the same, and he came all over the front of his dress the moment that image formed in his mind.
Kurt slumped back against the bed and let his breathing even out. The costume, he decided, wasn't salvageable – but he hadn't had plans to wear it anywhere else, anyway. He stood up, stepped out of it, balled it out and stuffed it in the trash. Then he turned to his closet and started looking for a comfortable outfit he could spend the rest of the evening cuddling in.