Claire (seaouryou) wrote in herostratic,

fic - Glee: Hold On To The End (1/2), Kurt/Blaine

Title: Hold On To The End
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Notes: Sequel to No Object of Lust


Blaine's father always insisted that he get a job during the summer to foster his work ethic. Privately Blaine felt that he had plenty of that already, but his father dismissed all of the time he spent working on plays as "distractions from his studies," and he knew better than to argue.

He'd worked at the soda shop last summer, and the management was glad to have him back. Blaine was a natural people person, and he did well in the service industry. His tendency to sing along to whatever was playing when he came by tables to deliver orders kept a few giggling groups of Crawford girls and blushing middle schoolers feeding coins into the tableside jukeboxes all afternoon and ordering fresh malts every hour.

Blaine also saw many of his fellow and former McKinley peers throughout the week. Unsurprising, given that there wasn't much at all to do in Lima if the bowling alley was filled up, and it wasn't dark enough to go to the drive-in. Over the weeks, Blaine had the chance to chat with all of the former New Directions members while he mixed their milkshakes and deep-fried their fries.

Many of them had graduated, but none of them were going anywhere. Finn had proposed to Quinn at the senior ball, as per her instructions, and they were going to make it official as soon as Finn had enough saved up for a place of their own. Every time that Blaine saw him now, he was complaining about some complaint that Quinn had made about the stresses of planning a wedding. He didn't see Sam often anymore, since his family's recent difficulties, but on the afternoon that he brought his siblings in for an ice cream (which Blaine had rung up as a size smaller) they'd talked and he'd given Sam a blow-by-blow of Plan 9 from Outer Space. Puck and Lauren came in now and then for a chocolate shake with two straws. Blaine didn't approach them, still a little wary of speaking to Kurt's more intimidating friends, but he overheard them talking about how they would absolutely run away from this cow town, if only their car weren't such a piece of junk.

Rachel was the only exception - the only McKinley '59 graduate he knew that was planning to leave Lima forever. By the end of the summer she was going to New York to live with her mother, whom she hadn't seen outside of holidays since her parents' divorce, and begin her destined career as a stage actress. She liked to sit at the counter and talk at length about how glad she was to be leaving this small, small-minded town behind while he ran back and forth, taking and making orders. Blaine enjoyed listening to her plans; he found other people's enthusiasm to be infectious and he wished Rachel the best. But listening to her lay out her life plan for the next twenty years also served to remind Blaine of how his still hadn't extended past the next nine months.

Kurt came into the soda shop as well. Usually once a week, and never more than twice. Sometimes it was with Mercedes, which occasionally caused muttering, but more often it was with Brittany, which caused a different sort of muttering. Kurt always left the receipt behind, a time scribbled on it, and when when Blaine bussed their table he would tuck it away into his pocket. On those evenings Kurt would return to the minute of the time on the receipt and then they would drive out somewhere where they could be alone.

Blaine always meant to talk to Kurt about the future when they were alone. The problem was that they were so rarely alone; now that Kurt was out of school and didn't have to kowtow to his father's insistence that his education come first, he was in the garage nearly every day, from before opening to after closing. And Blaine was always so keyed up from spending all afternoon slipping his hand into his pocket and rubbing his thumb across the slip of paper that once they were alone he just had to get his hands on Kurt. Then there was making himself presentable to worry about and getting home early enough that his father assumed he'd had the closing shift and didn't ask him to account for his whereabouts, and before Blaine knew it all of the time they'd had had been spent without a word about New York said between them.

Blaine had casually asked his father when his next business trip was, but unfortunately there were none in the foreseeable future. Blaine had cursed his poor luck - a night alone, with a house to themselves, was exactly what he and Kurt needed.

If Blaine could just talk to him, then in a year they could have that every night.

At least Kurt wasn't avoiding the topic - not exactly. He didn't bring it up, but he didn't pretend as though he had never confessed the things he'd confessed. On the contrary; since he'd told Blaine that he loved him, he'd become much warmer, much sweeter, than he'd ever allowed himself to be before.

It was wonderful. But if they left things as they were, then in a year's time, Blaine was just going to pack up and leave for New York, never to see Kurt again, and he couldn't do that.

Not only because it would break his heart (and maybe worse than that - his hope, his spirit… He couldn't imagine being any sort of man if not a man in love), but because it would break Kurt's, too. Because Kurt had been so stony for so long, but he'd made himself vulnerable for Blaine, for them, and Blaine couldn't repay that by validating all of Kurt's most bitter fears. The thought of Kurt, left alone and unloved and even colder than before, killed Blaine. He couldn't leave him behind. He wouldn't.

He just needed to find the right argument to convince him to come along, something that would show Kurt that all of the obstacles that he still saw were inconsequential. It was vexing, because Blaine had never been the best with words. But he was a man of action, and of determination, and he refused to believe that there was no solution to their impasse. There had to be, because Blaine refused to accept a world in which he and Kurt couldn't be together. They loved each other. They wanted to be together. They already had everything they needed to make it work.

On the first Wednesday of August, after an especially slow day (Kurt hadn't come in at all), Blaine's manager told him he could get off early. "You've been spending all your time working, that Berry girl has had to be the one to pay to see you. Go see if you can talk her into a flick," he suggested with a wink.

Blaine put on the same smile he gave troublesome customers. "Rachel would never accept a date the night of, Mick, she's not that kind of girl. Anyway, she's going to New York at the end of the month."

"All the more reason! Goodbyes can make any girl that kind of girl," Mick had laughed, and shooed him out, taking Blaine's protests in jest. Sighing, he walked to his car.

Now Blaine had an open evening with nothing to fill it. He didn't want to go home; the big house and his father's cold presence had never been especially appealing, but it was even less so know that he knew what a real connection to another person felt like - not the reserved and superficial relationships he maintained with everyone else in his life, from his father to his closest friends. It had been bearable before Kurt - being the dutiful son, even if he knew he could never fully please him because of what he was. But he couldn't go back to that counterfeit sort of life, now that he fully understood what a sham it was. He couldn't bear it.

In a fit of impulsive desperation, Blaine pulled off of the road, got out of his car, seized a rock, and smashed in one of his headlights in the growing dark.




Blaine had known exactly what sort of face Kurt would be making at him when he pulled into the driveway of Hummel garage with his busted light - but it was Sam that strode out to meet him with an upbeat, "Hey, Blaine!… Damn, what happened to your ride?"

"I…" Blaine was thrown off. He hadn't thought to come up with a cover story because, obviously, he wouldn't have needed one with Kurt. It wasn't a total surprise to see Sam there; the town had heard about the Evans' troubles, and a good man like Burt Hummel was more than willing to give a teenager a summer job. After all, Kurt may be trying to take over the shop from his father by any means necessary, but he couldn't run it by himself. In fact, now that Blaine thought of it, Kurt may have pushed for Sam to be hired so that he had one more pair of hands and one more excuse to keep his father out of the garage. In any case, Blaine shouldn't have expected to just drive up and catch Kurt alone.

Blaine pasted a cordial smile on his face in a moment. He may not pretend with Kurt, but he had a lifetime's worth of experience pretending with everyone else, and there was a difference between hating something and being bad at it. He switched gears smoothly as he stepped out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition, and came around to join Sam. "It was smashed when I came out of work," he said, putting on a regretful grimace.

Sam let out a low, sympathetic whistle. "That's a tough break, man." His eyes darted from the smashed glass, to the garage, and then back. He lowered his voice, leaned into Blaine, and said, "Do you think it was someone sending a message?"

Blaine's eyebrow rose. "A message?" he repeated.

"Yeah, you know…" he said in a conspiratorial whisper. "Territorial disputes with some thugs from Lima Heights, maybe?"

"Does Blaine Anderson really strike you as the type to be consorting with thugs?" Kurt's voice drawled out, and Blaine and Sam both whipped around to face him, illuminated by the bright lights of the garage at his back. He approached with a long stride, fast but not so fast as to appear to be rushing over. His coveralls were on, but they were tied off around his waist and his torso was bare save for a simple white t-shirt. Blaine could feel his heart skip a beat and he swallowed.

It had only been four days but God, Blaine didn't think he would ever be satisfied until he had him every day.

Sam didn't look embarrassed about being caught gossiping about Kurt. On the contrary, he looked at Kurt hopefully and said leading, "Well, he consorts with you…"

"And where," Kurt said, stopping a respectable distance apart from Blaine, "do you imagine I find all of this time to misbehave?"

Sam's face lit up as if Kurt had just confirmed something. "It's because you're so busy now, they think they can push in."

"That's certainly a theory," Kurt drawled mysteriously. His expression turned all business and he ordered, "Bring his car in and park it in the back. Make sure you don't scrape anything. I'm going to take Anderson into my office and go over the paperwork."

"You bet!" Sam said eagerly. He hopped into the front seat and stroked the wheel reverently for a moment before he turned the keys. It was, Blaine supposed, one of the few chances he would get to drive a Chevy Impala.

Kurt turned on his heel and started for the office without another word as Sam pulled in, and Blaine followed a step behind him. Kurt opened the door for him, exuding the aura of a businessman. Blaine turned to face him once the door clicked shut behind them and commented, "You're encouraging him?"

Sam had asked Blaine about what nefarious pranks and petty crimes he'd been committing with Kurt months ago, and had been very disappointed with the boring alibi that Blaine had given him. He'd brought it up a few times since, usually right after a late night out with Kurt that had caused Blaine to skip out on a night of cruising or going to the bowling alley, but Blaine had always stuck to the story. Now he saw that Kurt was insinuating that Blaine was part of some imaginary roving crew.

"Sam has an active imagination," Kurt said, crossing over to the small sink and running his greasy hands underneath it. He picked up the bar of soap and began to lather up to his elbows. "Better he think he's right about that than keep guessing." Kurt rinsed off, toweled off, and then turned back around to face Blaine with an arched eyebrow.

"Really, Blaine. That headlight is not going to be cheap."

"It was worth it," Blaine said sincerely, taking a step closer. Kurt's eyes flickered to the still-open blinds on the window and Blaine stopped a pace away, not touching but feeling the want of it between them like it were its own physical thing.

"It's worth a whole paycheck just for the pleasure of my company?" Kurt said lightly. "Well, doesn't that make a boy feel special."

Blaine grinned, a flurry of butterflies kicked up in his stomach. He would if he could - treat Kurt to the nicest dates and the most expensive bouquets, because that was what Kurt deserved, not secretive fumbling in the dark. Although Blaine did quite enjoy that as well.

Kurt's expression was tight, however. "You shouldn't have, Blaine. It's a waste of money."

"No, it's not," Blaine insisted, drawing himself up to his full height. "I needed to talk to you. And I know you don't like it when I call your place, so…"

"So you took drastic action."

He shrugged and gave Kurt a coy smile. "You've made a drastic man of me, Kurt Hummel."

The corner of Kurt's mouth twitched up, but then his eyes slid over to the half-open blinds again. "We can't here."

"I know," Blaine said.

Kurt nodded curtly and pushed off of the sink. His hand settling low and warm on Blaine's stomach for a brief moment as he reached for the door knob, and then the door was open and Kurt's hand fell away, and he was nudging him out the door with an elbow instead. The warmth didn't fade away so quickly.

"Sam!" Kurt called out, and Sam jogged over immediately, an expectant look on his face.

"We're not going to have the headlight replaced before closing, so I'm driving Blaine home. You remember the lock up procedure?"

Sam nodded, looking excited. "You're letting me lock up?"

"Don't leave the doors unlocked," Kurt ordered. "Count the register twice - three times," he amended. "And don't cut out early. Doors stay open for another twenty minutes."

"Of course," Sam nodded along, looking too excited about the responsibility that was being bestowed upon him to wonder why Kurt didn't just direct him to the bus stop.

Kurt turned his attention onto Blaine. "The car's out back," he said. "Give me a minute."

Kurt's DeSoto was parked behind the garage like he said, out of the way of the other cars. Blaine tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned against the cool metal, trying to calmly shift through his thoughts. He wanted as clear a head as possible to get through the conversation he had ahead of him.

Kurt strode out in his tight jeans, knee-high boots, and tight shirt - no jacket tonight - and Blaine swallowed and sternly reminded himself to not get distracted.

Kurt unlocked Blaine's side of the car first, the outside of his thigh brushing against the outside of Blaine's, and then he went around to the driver's side. Blaine took a moment to center himself, and climbed in as Kurt was putting the keys in the ignition. They pulled out of the backlot and onto the street, pointed in the opposite direction of Blaine's house.

"Okay," Kurt said as they sped along, his voice even and his eyes straight ahead, "Why do you need to talk to me? I imagine this must be important if you smashed up your cherry to make it happen."

"It can wait until we stop," Blaine said, wanting Kurt's full attention when they discussed this. He needed to be able to look Kurt in the eyes, because he happened to know that Kurt had trouble holding onto his cynicism when he was looking Blaine in the face.

Kurt shot him a quick glance before his lips set in a grim line and he refocused on the road.

They stopped much earlier than they usually did. Perhaps he was making Kurt unduly nervous - but then, Blaine reasoned, if they were closer to town perhaps it would be easier for him to remember to keep his hands to himself.

The grove of trees that Kurt pulled into kept them mostly-hidden from the road. It was on a bit of an incline, which made it less likely that a passing driver focused on the road would look up and notice them, and the canopy above them blotted out the light from the waning moon and helped to blend them in among the trees.

Kurt killed the engine and they were enveloped in the dark, far enough away from the center of town for Blaine to forget about it. Kurt turned to face him, one leg drawing up onto the seat, crossing the ankle over the knee of his other. He licked his lips once and asked, "Is this the part where you say this is too hard?"

"No," Blaine rushed to deny, twisting around to face him as well. "God, Kurt - don't you know by now that I'm always going to want you?"

Kurt's smile was sad. "Not quite the same thing," he said slowly.

"I'm not afraid of doing the hard thing," Blaine told him.

"Are you?" Kurt asked, tone mild. He looked down at his lap and traced the detailing on his boot. "Sometimes I wonder if you know what the hard thing is."

"Like, trying to get you to talk about what's going to happen after I graduate?" Blaine returned with a sarcastic eyebrow raise.

Kurt sighed and looked up. "So that's what this is about."

"More than three months and you haven't said a word about it," Blaine said. "Did you think I was just going to let that go?"

Kurt sighed and rubbed the side of his nose. "I haven't brought it up because I don't like to think about you leaving, all right?"

"So come with me," Blaine said, reaching up and cupping Kurt's face. "I want you to."

"You can't always get what you want."

"You want to, too."

"Case in point." Kurt's hands slid up Blaine's arms and he squeezed his wrists. He gave him a wistful smile and said, "You're going to Columbia, Blaine, you're going to live on campus. What are you going to do with me, keep me under your bed? I'm not a pet."

"That's not a sure thing," Blaine mumbled.

"Yes, it is. You're going where you can study to be a lawyer and sneak off to see shows between classes." He sighed.

"So we'll work something out," Blaine insisted.

Kurt shook his head. "It's not that simple. It's not just reasons I can't go, it's reasons I have to stay."

"Why, because of the garage?" Blaine asked. "Finn can take over that - heck, I know that he wants to." He gave Kurt his best imploring look. "You're better than that, Kurt."

Kurt's eyebrows drew down. "What, better than the family business?" he asked, a prickly tone in his voice now. "Look, I know you can't wait to get away from your family, but it's different for me, okay?"

Silence reigned in the car for a hot few seconds, both of their breaths coming out a little harsher. And then Kurt's shoulders, which had drawn up defensively, slumped into soft curves as his face gentled into regret. "I…" He let out a sad puff of air. "I'm sorry," he said, with the genuineness that he didn't spare for anyone else. "I decided, months ago, that I wasn't going to make you feel guilty for leaving. I don't want you to," he added sincerely, and Blaine felt his throat clog up and his eyes start to burn at the soft, unselfish love in Kurt's voice. "I don't want to make you feel bad."

He took Blaine's hands in his and looked him in the eye. "Blaine, these past six months, it's already been… You've been more than I ever expected."

Blaine shook his head fiercely. "It's not enough," he choked out, and lunged forward - for Kurt's mouth under his, for Kurt's face in his hands. Kurt hit the door with a muted thud as Blaine collided with him, kissing him with hard pressure and an insistent tongue. Kurt arched and pressed back into him, hands coming up to grab at Blaine's shoulder blades.

Kurt pushed him back. "Back seat," he grunted when Blaine whined and tried to push forward and kiss him again. Blaine rocked back on his knees, taking in the discomposed picture of Kurt pushed up against a car door, legs open, arms open, cheeks and lips red, and Blaine hopped gracelessly over the back of the seat so that he could grasp Kurt's arm in both hands and pull him over as well. Kurt landed on top of him with an "uf!", his weight pinning him into the blanket that for the moment still smelled like fabric softener.

"Careful," Kurt murmured against his lips as he raised up to hover over Blaine. "My knee could have landed in a very unfortunate place for us." He slipped his hand between them and cupped Blaine's cock, rubbing gently as Blaine grew harder in his hand. Blaine whined and craned his neck up to kiss him; Kurt kissed back, his lips moving as soft and as light as his fingers, and Blaine let out an annoyed huff and tried to push up harder as he toed off his shoes.

"Kurt," Blaine demanded, "more."

Kurt pressed him down with his body, leading with his lips, then his hands, then his hard cock pushed against Blaine's thigh. Blaine groaned and grasped Kurt's sides to keep him. His nails snagged on the thin t-shirt until he was able to ruck it up and spider his fingers out on Kurt's waist and the small of his back.

Kurt held his cock snug in his hand, weighted down between their torsos, fingers curled around it while he stroked the pad of his thumb up and down the shaft. It was not nearly enough, and Blaine whined into Kurt's mouth and tried to strain up for more, but Kurt flexed his leg and pinned him down. Blaine clawed and clutched at Kurt, and turned his face to the side to gasp.

"I like it when you're like this," Kurt breathed into the shell of his ear, and scraped his teeth across the skin beneath it. Blaine shivered and Kurt hummed against his skin. "You're the most handsome, the most charming… you're just the most, Blaine."

"What are you waiting for?" Blaine whined as Kurt's tongue flicked out teasingly. His hands scrabbled down and he clutched Kurt's jean-clad ass in both hand and pushed it down, trapping his hand between them and pushing it more firmly around his cock. Kurt half groaned, half chuckled.

"I'll get to that," he murmured. His tongue ran up Blaine's throat and he caught his ear in his teeth. Blaine whined and tightened his grip. Kurt's breath on the wet parts of Blaine's neck made him shiver, and he rolled his head towards him, seeking out his mouth. Kurt licked at Blaine's lips that same moment he opened them to do the same and their tongues brushed once before they slid more firmly against each other.

Kurt fisted Blaine's shirt in his free hand, pulled it free of his belt, and rucked it up to Blaine's chest. His hand spread out there and slid slowly back down, smoothing over Blaine's firm stomach, and scratching lightly through the hair below his belly button, making Blaine's skin tingle.

He removed both of his and Blaine felt like cursing. "Kurt -"

"Shh," Kurt whispered, spine curling until his mouth was hovering over his belly. "Let me seduce you again."

Blaine fisted the blanket beneath them as Kurt pressed a featherlight kiss to his abdomen. He planted another below Blaine's navel. Blaine's hands twisted and a low groan rumbled out of him as Kurt's tongue dipped into his belly bottom and then skimmed sideways, sliding across the silky hair there, making it cling to Blaine's skin. He grasped Blaine's hips and slowly slid his hands inward, until his thumb and forefingers were bracketing Blaine's cock and pressing tight, making the fine wool of Blaine's trousers rub as Blaine's hips squirmed uncontrollably, the slide of fabric an unbearable tease. Blaine grabbed at Kurt's forearms, slipping on his skin. He tried to yank him forward. "You've got me," he gasped.

Kurt hummed, spine straightening out and hands sliding up Blaine's chest until they were face-to-face and kissing again, finally, Kurt's clever tongue stroking inside Blaine's mouth, drawing back so that he could suck on his lip, catch it with his teeth and draw it wider and slid his tongue in harder, thicker, with wet velvety rolls and flicks that left Blaine dizzy but unwilling to stop for breath. He clung to Kurt's shoulders; he loved them, the twin elegance and strength in them, what a sure, unshakeable handhold they were when Kurt was moving on top of him.

"Get your shirt off," Kurt murmured between kisses, and Blaine's fingers fell to his buttons, trying to pick them out of the rumpled mess that was his shirt pushed up to his armpits. Kurt sat up (Blaine tried to bend up and follow his mouth and finally fell back against the floor in disappointment) and peeled his t-shirt up over his head. Blaine paused in his endeavor, staring - he didn't think he would ever get used to it, the sight of Kurt's flushed, finely defined body standing out pale and divine in the night.

Kurt let out a high huff of a laugh, pleased as ever by Blaine's appreciation. He grasped Blaine's shirt and tugged it back down, straightening out the line of buttons and going to work on unhooking them from the bottom. Blaine resumed unbuttoning from the top, and they had his shirt open and drawn aside in moments.

Kurt inhaled through his nose and ran a reverent hand from Blaine's collarbone to his belly. "You're lovely," he praised softly as he settled over him again, holding his hips and shifting until their groins were pushing together.

Blaine let out a contented sigh, ending in a grunt as Kurt's hips jerked forward and their cocks rubbed against each other. He wrapped his arms around Kurt's shoulders and accepted his kisses, languid and sweet and drawn out, legs spreading as Kurt's hips pushed between them and ground in. His cock was leaking now, rubbing slippery wet against the cotton of his underpants, and Blaine whined as it clung. "Kurt…"

Kurt's hands slipped from his hips and without them holding him down Blaine ground up hard, cock dragging up the rough bulge of Kurt's denim, and he whimpered at the sharp pleasure of it. Kurt's hands were at his fly in the next moment, dragging the zipper down and reaching inside his jeans. Blaine's gaze jumped down to watch as Kurt pushed his underwear out of the way and drew out his naked cock, and Blaine arched his hips up again, unable and unwilling to constrain himself. Kurt sucked in a shuddery breath as the wool of Blaine's trousers dragged along his shaft. "Fuck…"

Kurt pushed him down flat with one hand, palm pressing down hard below his navel, and unfastened Blaine's pants with the other. He rubbed his thumb over the damp spot on Blaine's underwear, smiled when he gasped, and deftly tucked his fingers into his waistband and pulled it down. He licked his lips as he unveiled him, using both hands to pull Blaine's clothes down his legs as he muttered, "You're so gorgeous, fuck."

Blaine flushed with pleasure. It meant more to him that he could say, that a boy could look at him, seeing everything, knowing everything, and desire him the way that he wanted to be desired. That that boy was Kurt, and all he ever saw was Blaine.

"Come here," Blaine murmured, flexing his arms, and Kurt crashed his mouth down against him, open and consuming, as they pressed together chest to thigh. Their cocks slid together, a rough-but-silky glide of skin against skin that made heat bloom and diffuse throughout his frame. Kurt's forearms hit the floor on either side of Blaine's head, tensing for leverage as Kurt rocked his thighs forward, his hips forward, his cock forward. The zipper of his jeans dug into Blaine's thigh and when Blaine tried to spread his legs wider they got trapped by the waistband of his own pants. Blaine's arms unwound from Kurt's shoulders to reach down and push at his jeans, and he let out a frustrated, pitiful noise when his shaking hands couldn't peel the tight material out of the way.

"Shh," Kurt whispered, pecking Blaine's lips once more before he rested his forehead against Blaine's.

"Too rough," Blaine whimpered, just on the wrong side of sensitive, but his eyes fluttering closed as Kurt lifted a hand and cradled his face.

"You're the grabby one that wanted to get right down to the fucking," Kurt said, but his tone was gentle, as was the thumb that stroked Blaine's cheek. Blaine opened his eyes and pouted at him, and Kurt gave him a playful smirk. "Okay, okay, don't pout -" he rubbed his thumb over Blaine's bottom lip and Blaine caught the digit with his teeth. His tongue flicking out to slide against the salty skin before he closed his lips around it and gave it a slow, sensual drag. Kurt's words died in his throat and he stared, mesmerized, until he released it with a wet pop.

"Please," Blaine groaned.

Kurt shot up and crawled over to the corner of the car where he kept all of the necessary supplies stashed and retrieved the tube of K-Y. He twisted the top open, squeezed out a line across his fingers, and reached down to immediately wrap his hand around Blaine's cock. Blaine's hips jerked up with a gasp, fucking forward into the slick channel of Kurt's hand as Kurt twisted his wrist and spread it around his length. His legs kicked out, shifting as his pants slid down past his knees.

"Touch yourself," Kurt said, and then his hand was gone. Blaine whined in confusion at the sudden lack of stimulation, like a chorus abruptly falling silent. He lifted his head to look at Kurt, and saw that he had scooted back and was in the process of removing his boots and shimmying out of his tight pants. His eyes were still trained on Blaine, and when Blaine stared up at him, he said, "Go on."

It took Blaine another moment to collect, but then his hand was wrapped around his own shaft and he was pumping. He swallowed, old embarrassment succumbing to the visceral pleasure of putting on a show for Kurt, of being able to see how it affected him. Blaine slowed his hand, held himself more lightly, and teased at sensitive spots to prolong it as Kurt freed himself of his boots, and jeans, and socks, and finally knelt naked in front of him. He squeezed out more jelly and spread it over his own cock, and Blaine stared, mouth open and dizzy-hot, as Kurt touched himself while he watched Blaine do the same.

It made him blush hot, but his skin was still aching for Kurt's and he didn't want to come like this, with them not even lying together. "Please," Blaine gasped, twisting his hand down. "More, please -"

Kurt slid between his legs and kissed him sweetly, silencing his begging with a soft nip and a loving lick. He tugged Blaine's hand away by the wrist and Blaine wrapped his arms around ribcage and clutching at his back, the fingers of one hand dipping into his spine and already finding a light sheen of sweat there. Kurt grasped his cock and Blaine sighed in sweet relief, hips twitching up into his soft palm. He stroked the lightly, then his fingers slipped up to tug at his foreskin, and Blaine let out a loud, low groan. He buried his face in Kurt's long neck, mouthing at the firm, silky slope of it as Kurt played with the loose skin.

"Oooooh, Kurt," he moaned as Kurt skimmed his finger between the skin and the head of his cock and rubbed at the seam. He let his teeth graze the side of his throat. "That's…"

"Good?" Kurt murmured, voice high like it always was when he was this turned on, and Blaine nodded jerkily. He gasped and shuddered when Kurt dipped two more fingers in, and God, the stretch

"Oh, yes, Kurt, do it," he groaned, grip tightening on Kurt's back.

Kurt landed a kiss on the side of Blaine's slack mouth, the highest part of his cheek, his ear. Blaine moaned as Kurt's teeth grazed his earlobe, and then he pulled harder at the skin, shifted his hips forward, and bumped the head of his cock up against Blaine's. He directed it in with his thumb until it was squeezed tight beside Blaine, clasped by slick skin, and he kept his fist clasped tight to hold them together.

Blaine moaned unreservedly. His hands dropped down to cup Kurt's ass, holding onto the firm, smooth, soft flesh as Kurt slowly began to circle his hips.

There was nothing quite like Kurt Hummel swiveling his hips, Blaine had come to learn. His head dropped back against the floor with a moan, shoulders and back arching up as he tried to rise into the sensation. But Kurt held him in place, so that he was helpless to do anything but lie there and take it as Kurt worked him over: the silky head of his cock rubbing against Blaine's, the maddening slow swirl around it like Kurt had done with his tongue more times than Blaine could recount, but firmer and blunter and so much hotter. The way it felt like all of his nerve endings were screaming in jubilation as he stretched around Kurt's cock.

"Kurt." Blaine gasped, panted, squirmed underneath him. His toes curled and his legs folded around the back of Kurt's swaying thighs; his hands skated up Kurt's smooth back and he clutched at his forearms, groaning as he felt the muscle shift with the movement of Kurt's hand. Heat was building up in Blaine, stuffing up his head, as Kurt dipped his head down and began to kiss at his sternum and heaving chest. His lips closed over a nipple and Blaine moaned and shook.

"God, Kurt, your mouth, your hands, I love them on me," Blaine babbled, the brush of Kurt's tongue kindling his burning skin. "Your - ah - your cock, Kurt, I love it inside me… oh!" Blaine ended in a breathless almost-squeak, jerking as Kurt came suddenly, gasping against Blaine's chest, losing his grip and splashing come over Blaine's cock. Blaine lifted his head off of the floor but Kurt had collapsed across his chest, blocking any view but that of the top of his head and the rise and fall of his shoulders; he could only feel the ooze and the mess.

It wasn't often that Kurt came first. In fact, it was pretty damn rare. Blaine licked his lips, feeling pleased with himself.

Kurt uncurled himself; he shifted up, and Blaine dropped his mouth open eagerly as Kurt kissed him. They broke apart with a soft swak!, and Kurt murmured, "I'm not finished with you yet." Blaine nodded dumbly, eagerly, as Kurt slid lower down his body.

He sucked in a breath when Kurt dragged his tongue over his abdomen and licked up his own come. Blaine held himself up on his elbows so that he could watch, transfixed, as Kurt sucked the issue off of his skin, finding each stray drop and then continuing to draw on the skin like he was trying to leave monkey bites. "Kurt," he gasped, sinking a hand into Kurt's gloriously soft, thick hair.

"Don't worry, I'm going to suck your cock," Kurt soothed. He pressed a parting kiss to Blaine's hipbone and then he dragged his velvety tongue up Blaine's shaft, collecting the come. When he reached the loose skin around the head his tongue dipped in, poking at the mess that had collected there, spilling some more down Blaine's cock.

Blaine's elbow slipped out from under him with a gasp and he jerked at Kurt's scalp; Kurt's lips closed over his cock and he sucked, and Blaine buried his other hand in Kurt's hair as well while he moaned long and loud. Kurt pulled off, wrapped his hand around Blaine's shaft and rolled his foreskin down to lick up the last of the stickiness, until there was only the smooth glide of saliva as Kurt caressed him with his tongue. Kurt slid his fist down to the base and sank his mouth down until his lips touched his fingers. Blaine sighed and went slack, surrendering to the sweet, wet warmth of Kurt's talented mouth, letting the pull of his lips drag Blaine closer and closer to completion.

"Blaine," Kurt pulled off, voice raspy in a way that made Blaine's fingers twitch, "I wanna go lower."

"What?" Blaine asked, uncomprehending. Unless Kurt meant he wanted to sink his mouth down farther on his cock. They'd been trying that. Blaine's hips canted up at the thought.

Kurt sat up, and Blaine almost whined petulantly and pushed his head back down. He was so close and he just wanted Kurt to take him there.

But Kurt licked his lips and said, "I want to try something new." Blaine looked at Kurt with a mixture of surprise and confusion. It had been months since Blaine had heard that - he'd come to think that there wasn't anything else new to try.

"What?" he asked curiously.

Kurt licked his lips again. He laid his hands on Blaine's parted knees and slid them down, massaging at Blaine's inner thighs. Blaine hummed under the attention; Kurt's hands were always so sure, so strong, and so surprisingly gentle.

Kurt sucked his finger into his mouth, bathing it before he pulled it out again. He reached down and circled it over Blaine's hole, lightly so that Blaine felt more wetness than pressure, and Blaine hummed in agreement, legs shifting wider. "I want to lick you here."

Blaine felt a strange mixture of arousal and repulsion, but most of all disbelief. "Really?"

"Do you want to?"

"Are you sure you do?" Blaine asked, frowning.

Kurt was studying his face carefully. "I heard it feels good."

Blaine almost asked how, but the answer occurred to him almost at once - Kurt had told Blaine before that Brittany liked to talk about some things whether you wanted to listen or not.

Kurt sat still, watching him, clearly waiting for his answer. Blaine chewed on his bottom lip as he considered it.

Kurt had never made a suggestion in bed (so to speak) that Blaine hadn't liked - loved, actually. He didn't know if this would be the thing that broke the record, but he did know he'd been just as dubious that Kurt inside of him could be enjoyable. Of course this was a little different, as he was mostly skeptical of Kurt's enjoyment.

"Okay," he finally decided. Kurt's face split into a grin. "Should I… turn over?"

"I think that would work best," Kurt said, rubbing his thighs. He gave Blaine an encouraging smile, and his eyes were dark and focused on him in a way that made Blaine shiver pleasantly and chased away some of his doubts about how appealing such an act could really be. But Kurt had asked, and Kurt never asked for things he didn't want (he barely asked for the things that he did want, at that).

Blaine shrugged out of his shirt, rolled over, and shifted up onto his knees, ass in the air and cheek laid against the wool blanket. He felt Kurt tug off his socks, and then his hands slid up from his ankles - a tickling glide of sensation up the back of his legs that made his skin pimple, until Kurt seized his cheeks in sure hands.

He flushed just a little at being so bared. Blaine never felt more unashamed than when he was pressed skin-to-skin with Kurt, all-bared and all-brave, but his self-consciousness about his body was so deeply ingrained that he doubted be could ever shake it completely.

But all that aside there was a shy elation to be found in being on display for Kurt, and when Kurt's thumbs dug into his ass to part the flesh and he let out a reverent sigh, Blaine blushed like he might under the highest praise from someone he admired. "You're perfect," Kurt whispered, and Blaine believed him when he said it like that.

Kurt rubbed one thumb against the edge of Blaine's hole and Blaine let out a shaky moan, muscles tensing as he fought the urge to shove back. His cock throbbed, and Blaine was painfully aware of how long he'd been on edge; emotionally keyed up for longer still.

Kurt pressed a kiss in the V of his thumb and index finger, lips plush, and as Blaine was drawing a breath Kurt planted another right over his hole.

Blaine choked. He was aware of soft Kurt's lips were, of course - how firm they were and how plumb. But his hole was definitely not used to it. Kurt's lips were soft; they gave. They weren't the pressure of fingers or cock that made Blaine give in enthusiastic surrender. Blaine was caught in suspense, waiting for his body to decide how it felt about the new sensation, when the kiss broke, and then Kurt licked a stripe from Blaine's balls, over his hole, and up until the crease of his ass flattened out.

Blaine gasped and grabbed at the blanket. Oh, that was… Oh.

Kurt licked again, a tighter line closer to his hole, and Blaine's eyes fluttered shut as his own mouth sagged open. Another lick, the side of tongue this time, twisted and fitted to press closer between his cheeks, and Blaine sucked in a sharp breath.

It was definitely firmer than his lips, deft like his fingers but broad and silky wet like the crown of his cock. Blaine let out a whimper as the memory twinned with a fourth pass of tongue, this time pointed and running purposefully around his rim.

"Good?" Kurt murmured close to his skin, and Blaine replied, "hnnng."

Blaine could hear the smirk in Kurt's voice. "Good," he said, and his tongue dipped down again.

It was wet; so wet and so good, the silky glide of his tongue circling around and around and setting off sparks up Blaine's spine. He ached to take himself in hand and bring himself off, but he also wanted ride the sensation until it finally bucked him.

Kurt rolled his tongue over his opening, and Blaine could feel it start to give under the pressure a little - for Kurt to increase the pressure just the smallest bit - and he gasped, "Kurt."

Kurt's fingers kneading him encouragingly, breathing blowing against wet skin and making Blaine shiver. "I'll take care of you, Blaine," he promised.

Blaine's breath came out as pants as the tip of Kurt's tongue flicked against him, and pressed, and started to wiggle inside.

Blaine moaned. It was the familiar stretch that he loved, the sensation of parting around hot, slick, determined flesh, but shockingly new. Kurt closed his lips around his hole and sucked, and Blaine gasped and jerked back; Kurt's hands on him kept him from going anywhere, and Blaine pushed his forehead against the floor and let out a filthy prayer.

Kurt drew back, swirled his tongue around his wrinkled rim, and pushed back in. Slid out and then deeper in, and then again, deeper and still deeper, until Blaine was taking it all: Kurt's hands tight on his ass, the thrust and roll of his tongue far inside it, salvia dripping teasingly down Blaine's crack, and the sounds Kurt was making, not words or even groans, just the pop and suck and smack of wet skin moving against skin. When Blaine finally came he felt like it had been rocked out of him, like a boat eventually toppled by stronger and stronger waves, and he shuddered and cried out as he gushed onto the blanket.

Blaine nearly crashed forward, but Kurt grabbed his hips, holding him up, and then carefully turned him over and eased him down on his back, away from the wet spot. Kurt slid down beside him, forearm propped up by Blaine's head, and Blaine's hazy eyes slowly focused on him. Kurt's lips were puffy and his chin was wet, and he was smiling at Blaine in the most elated, unreserved way that Blaine's breath caught. With an effort he lifted a hand and slid his fingertips along Kurt's jaw, then around to the base of his neck where they tightened and coaxed him down into a curious kiss.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but Kurt tasted much the same. He kissed him deeper, and when Kurt pushed his tongue into his mouth he shivered.

Kurt shifted, rolling over him to kiss him more thoroughly, and Blaine felt his cock bump against his thigh, hard. He let out a pleased hum as his legs opened, and he smiled into Kurt's mouth as he took hold of Kurt, directed him down and to the left, and rubbed Kurt's cock head over his wet hole. The feeling of it slipping through the spit and making his body give just a little at the pressure made Blaine heat up in contentment and fresh arousal.

Kurt broke off kissing him to duck his head into his shoulder and groan, and Blaine whispered urgently, "Oh - put it inside, Kurt, won't you, please."

"God, Blaine - as if you need to beg for it," Kurt gasped. Blaine murmured happily, baring down on the velvety glide of Kurt's cock.

Kurt nipped at his shoulder to get his attention. "I have to finger you first," Kurt said, voice high and a little strangled.

"Ooooh yes," Blaine said eagerly, letting go as he settled down flat and spread his legs wider. Kurt let out a huff of laughter, his eyes crinkling slightly as he looked down at Blaine, face charmed and turned on by Blaine's enthusiasm - he was flushed pink with it, nearly glowing with delight.

The jelly was retrieved, more was applied to Kurt's fingers, and he knelt between Blaine's legs. He grasped Blaine by the buttock, hefting and pulling and settling him so that his ass was raised and resting on Kurt's thighs, so close to his jutting cock that Blaine imagined he could feel the heat of it. He closed his eyes and licked his lips, and relaxed as Kurt pushed two fingers inside.

They went easy, no wider than Kurt's tongue, but they sank in much deeper. Blaine groaned, eyes fluttering open and closed with the push and pull, and his fingers stretched out and caressed Kurt's knees beneath him. "Kurt," he said. "I can take more, please."

Out to the fingertips, then a third folded between and back in. It was an exquisite stretch; Blaine loved the way his nerves came alive and the feeling of achievement of taking Kurt in. He was panting now, wanted to rock into it, but Kurt's other hand was secure on his hip, holding him in place - careful of his cock, careful with him, making sure his knuckles didn't brush his balls. It was too soon for Blaine to get hard again, but soon…

His eyes flickered up, away from Kurt's proud erection, to swallowed-up blue eyes and a strong jaw turned slack with awe. Blaine flushed with pleasure at being the sole recipient of those looks and he shivered, nails scratching a little at Kurt's knees. "Your cock now," he gasped, "please."

"Love the way you take it," Kurt said, voice somehow both high and gruff as he slid his fingers out and stroked them up and down his cock, spreading lube. "Love the way you love it."

"I love you," Blaine breathed, and Kurt groaned and folded over him, kissing him with renewed intensity. Blaine grabbed his face and clung to him as Kurt shifted blindly, sliding his cock up his thigh. Blaine dug his heels into the blanket and lifted his ass as Kurt's legs unfolded underneath him, and then Kurt slipped over his hole and began to press inside.

The dizzying pressure built, inside of his head and inside of him, until it broke like the popping a bottle of champagne. And then it was easy, just the pleasure of the glide in and in and in and in, of nerves crackling and spreading and Kurt breathing against his ear.

Once he was halfway inside he stopped using a hand to guide and grasped Blaine more firmly by the ass, taking over the strain of holding Blaine up. Blaine let out a sigh of relief as his legs slackened and fell against Kurt's forearms, his knees fitting into Kurt's elbows. Kurt pulled him onto his cock as his hips pushed forward, and Blaine let out a throaty moan at the way it felt to be handled like that - at the strength in Kurt's arms, and the wide, firm grip of his hands as he held his ass up and apart.

As Kurt pushed forward he bent Blaine further in half, a slow curling of his spine that pulled Blaine's ass higher as his back slid against the car floor. Blaine gasped, hands tightening on Kurt's face as Kurt's grip skid from his ass to his thighs, until finally he had his legs pushed up to his chest and Kurt was kneeling over him, into him, fully.

"Oh," Blaine moaned, spread and stuffed, his cock hard now and brushing against his abdomen as Kurt settled into him, Kurt's balls and thighs tight against his cheeks as all of him was sunk inside.

"Blaine Blaine Blaine," Kurt burbled into his neck. He kissed at his skin clumsily, a slight tremble in his arms. "Oh, Blaine…" He let out a long, contented sigh and sat up enough to look at his face, and they both groaned as his cock shifted inside. "God, you look good like this."

Blaine flushed a little, because "this" was with his legs in the air, and he couldn't think of anything more flagrantly sexual. But sex was good when it was with Kurt. It was honest and respectful and so, so sweet.

"Move," Blaine groaned, in no position to thrust up but beginning to ache for more. The stretch was good, the fullness was better, but it was the moving together that felt the best.

"Wrap your legs around me," Kurt murmured, his hands sliding away as Blaine complied. They folded snugly around Kurt's waist, ankles linking and his heel poised above Kurt's ass. He pushed down, experimentally pressing into the firm muscle there.

Kurt let out a slightly hoarse laugh. "Giddy-up," he teased, hands braced on Blaine's sides.

"Kurt -" he started to complain, cut off with a cry when Kurt pulled back and then snapped forward, lighting nerves up inside of him. Kurt hesitated once he was hips-deep again and Blaine slid a hand up from his cheek to fist his hair. He tugged Kurt down to murmur in his ear, "Go on - I don't want to let go of you long enough to get slick again, just do it, just take me -"

Another hard snap and Blaine gasped, and as Kurt began to drive into him with an unshakable rhythm his head fell back and he arched and groaned and squeezed around Kurt, legs around his hips and body around his cock. Kurt's mouth fell on his stretched neck, sucking over his adam's apple, which bobbed under his lips as Blaine swallowed, dry-mouthed from panting. God, but Kurt's tongue was superb, and he remembered with a spike of pleasure it shimmying inside of him. Kurt trailed down his throat to lick at the notch below and kiss his shoulders with feather-light lips and teasing-soft flicks of tongue to counter the hard drive of his hips that was making Blaine's whole body rock.

"Kiss me," Kurt panted, and Blaine complied at once, seizing hold of his hot, slick mouth. Kurt crushed them together, chest-to-chest (Blaine's cock rubbed against Kurt's stomach and Blaine's mouth dropped open in a silent gasp against Kurt's lips). Blaine's legs fell open, fell down; Kurt reached down to grab his hips and yank him back onto his cock; and then there was slickness flooding Blaine's body, making him twitch and moan as it felt it pulse.

"Couldn't wait any longer," Kurt groaned against his cheek, too sloppy and slack to kiss Blaine's lips. He could only push his mouth against Blaine's cheeks, his ear, his neck, his shoulders. "God, Blaine, do you even know…" He pushed up onto his shoulders, looking down at Blaine's face. "I'm so far gone," he whispered.

Blaine's heart did a flip and he grinned, wide and unconcerned of how it made his eyes crinkle. Kurt looked down at Blaine's cock, which was lying against his stomach, flushed with blood and potential. "You didn't get off," Kurt said with twinge a hint of regret.

"I told you I didn't want to stop," he muttered, still breathing hard. "If you'd gone much longer I would have gotten tacky."

"Mmm," Kurt hummed, a little smirk appearing on his face. "Not now, though." He shifted, and Blaine bit his lip and whimpered as he felt Kurt's cock - softening now but still hot and so good - sliding through the come inside him. "Oh -" he gasped as Kurt slipped from his body and he was left with a leaking hole.

Kurt's fingers slithered in, three-wide and firm, and Blaine groaned as Kurt twisted his wrist and screwed them in deep. "Fuck, I can feel it," Kurt breathed, too spent to sound lusty at the slosh of his come around his probing fingers. But he still sounded a little awed, and his eyes were wide and shining as he pushed his fingers into him. "One day," Kurt whispered, "I want to fuck you when you're full of me like this."

A whine rose in Blaine's throat. "Kurt…"

Kurt dragged his fingers out, smooth and slow and fanned out as much as the constricting muscle allowed, the stretch around his rim making Blaine whimper and shudder. Then he felt it welling up and spilling over, trickling down the curve of his ass, and Blaine gasped out loud at the warm, tickling ooze on his skin. Kurt pushed back in, twisting and dragging and, God, spilling more out. Blaine squeezed tight around the digits, and when Kurt inched them out again it all rushed out with him.

Kurt made an amazed noise that Blaine was only dimly aware of as he shivered at the sensation. He felt Kurt run a finger through the mess and his thoughts jumped to how Kurt had spilled over his cock and sucked it off, and Kurt's lush mouth on him, and what if Kurt sucked it out of him - and Blaine jerked and came, spilling over his front as his body finally yielded to the overwhelming force of pleasure.

Kurt laid down beside him and squirmed close, his relatively clean left hand running light touches up and down Blaine's shoulder. Blaine sighed and closed his eyes, floating on the sensation of a liquified body and the soothing strokes. Kurt's hand settled over Blaine's breast, over his heart, and he leaned down to press a soft, dry kiss against Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine's eyes fluttered open and he met Kurt's gaze, intensely blue, all-consuming and consumed when Kurt smiled at him. Blaine smiled back.

"You're filthy," Kurt said, tone mirthful but not mocking.

"Your fault," Blaine hummed.

Kurt grinned. "I suppose it's my responsibility, then. Let's clean you up."



Part 2
Verse Notes
Tags: fic, fic: babyboomers!klaine, glee
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