Chapter Text
Kissing Kurt is amazing.
Even when it shouldn’t be amazing — when there’s breath that’s less than fresh, or when things don’t line up right and noses and teeth crash together, or when neck and back muscles are getting twisted all out of their natural shapes — it still is. On top of that, it seems like there’s something new to learn every time, and that just makes it better.
The way Kurt paying attention to his ears makes Blaine squirm and melt. (Most of the spots behind and underneath work too.)
How Kurt balls his fists against Blaine’s back when Blaine sucks on his tongue.
It’s one wonderful surprise after another, and Blaine’s confident that there are many more to come.
*
It’s a hot, lazy afternoon, a portent of the summer that’s waiting just around the corner. Blaine’s audition for Six Flags had been disposed of the day before, and the next marks the beginning of his last full week of school for the year. McKinley will be in session for a little longer than that, but Kurt’s still riding his New York high and doesn’t seem to care.
They’re at Blaine’s house. The air conditioner should be on, but it’s not, because his mother had refused to run it after she discovered that his father hasn’t changed the filter in at least five years. He still hasn’t picked up a new one from the store, so the inside of the house is bordering on tropical. Burt has the air conditioning working fine at Kurt’s house, but Blaine’s had still won out because it had the advantage of being empty. Catching Kurt’s house at a time when it isn’t teeming with people is a trick.
It had all started out innocently enough: lying side by side on an old sheet that Blaine had spread on the living room floor under the ceiling fan, a marathon of some distant season (”cycle,” Kurt corrects him) of America’s Next Top Model playing low in the background, sweating glasses of lemonade on hand. They end up kissing — not that it’s any surprise. It doesn’t take much for them to end up kissing lately; after all, they’re young and in love (officially now, for over two days).
This time it’s Blaine’s fault. He’d watched as Kurt had taken a long swallow of his drink and carefully balanced his glass on the carpeting, and then he’d swooped in, wanting to know if Kurt’s mouth would taste sour-sweet, like lemons and sugar. It does at first, and his lips even hold the tiniest chill for a split-second, but then none of that matters anymore, because Kurt relaxes into the touch and it’s them kissing, not just once but over and over again. It’s not the most comfortable; they’re propped up on elbows, facing each other, with Blaine’s hand cupping Kurt’s skull and Kurt’s hand warm and heavy over the thin fabric of Blaine’s (very stylish) t-shirt at his waist. It’s amazing.
Blaine feels kind of giddy with the prospect of the whole afternoon alone with Kurt like this, and he breathes “I love you” into Kurt’s mouth, because he can now. Kurt’s lips stretch for a moment in a smile, then he whispers it back before tightening his grip on Blaine’s side and plunging his tongue into Blaine’s mouth. Blaine can’t help but let out a muffled groan in response.
It gets heated then, figuratively and literally. The fan overhead does nothing to dispel the sweat gathering around Blaine’s hairline or the dampness under the back of his shirt. He’s sweltering under the hard, humid press of Kurt’s lips, the tangle of their ankles, the alternating
and breathy sounds that Kurt is making. Even though he doesn’t want to, he pulls back a little. “It’s really hot.”
Kurt arches an eyebrow at him. “Yeah?”
Blaine laughs. “Well, yeah. But I mean… temperature wise.”
“Hottest day of the year so far,” Kurt muses, his fingers moving and tickling over the dip of Blaine’s waist. Blaine squirms at first, but he goes stock still when he realizes that Kurt’s hand is scrabbling down and the hem of his shirt is coming up. The tips of Kurt’s fingers brush his skin there, barely touching but it’s still the first time ever, and he adds, “in which case…”
His fingers skate a bit farther up.
Blaine knows his eyes are round in his face. “Really?”
Kurt nods. He’s holding Blaine’s eyes, but his cheeks are a brilliant pink.
“You too?” Blaine says, not sure if he’s asking or expressing disbelief.
Maybe both, because Kurt just nods again and then they’re both scrambling to sit up. Blaine reaches for the bottom of his own shirt, because somehow it feels like the safer of two awkward options, and he only hesitates for a brief moment of eye contact with Kurt before he peels it up and off.
When he refocuses, Kurt is looking down at his own shirt in his hands, and if Blaine isn’t mistaken, the expression on Kurt’s face says that he really, really wants to fold it. After a few seconds’ hesitation, Kurt visibly clenches his jaw tosses the shirt off to the side. He glances over in Blaine's general direction, but he’s nervously not quite meeting Blaine’s eyes. And then — even though Blaine’s dick is indicating approval of and plenty of interest in Kurt’s long, lean, filling-out torso — it’s really more strange than sexy, sitting across from each other on a sheet in Blaine’s living room floor and not touching anywhere.
Blaine can almost feel Kurt curling in on himself as he says, “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
So Blaine tears his eyes away from Kurt’s chest and reaches for his hands. “Hey. Neither do I. I guess we’ll just have to figure it out together.”
He leans over to kiss Kurt, forcing himself to keep his touches soft and light, and Kurt smiles at him when they break apart, but he’s sneaking peeks down at Blaine’s body too. Blaine can’t deny it — it feels really nice, and he’s warm and flushed when he leans forward.
“Hmmm,” Blaine murmurs, gently nosing along Kurt’s jaw. “What if we start… here?” He drags kisses down the side of Kurt’s throat and then around the base of his neck, becoming more brazen as he dips his tongue into the hollows there to chase the taste of salt. Kurt’s shaking minutely and his breath is coming faster when Blaine pulls himself away. “Now you,” he adds, letting his head drop to the side.
“Blaine,” Kurt says, his tone almost scolding. It’s enough to let Blaine know that he’s still feeling skittish.
Hell, Blaine is too, but he just tilts his head to further expose his throat and gives Kurt a coy look. “You don’t want to kiss my neck?” he asks innocently.
Kurt rolls his eyes, but he’s already tilting in, and he traces his lips down the tendon there, sucking lightly on the skin — sometimes Blaine wishes they could leave marks, but they’ve never kissed each other where they could be hidden before. Kurt’s mouth is getting closer and closer to places that would definitely fall under his shirt, though, and Blaine lets his head fall back and his eyes droop shut as Kurt works his way around from the juncture of one shoulder to the other. Blaine’s tingling everywhere and already fully hard when Kurt runs his cheek up the opposite side of his neck and whispers in his ear, “What next?”
Collarbones are, but Blaine doesn’t bother to say so. He just dips forward to work his mouth against Kurt’s, even daring to nip, which makes Kurt jump and gasp. Kurt rests one shaky hand back on Blaine’s waist. Blaine lifts his head to give Kurt his turn —
And then.
Then Kurt — rather boldly, Blaine thinks — runs that hand up Blaine’s chest to adjust the angle of his shoulder, and on the way, his fingers graze lightly over Blaine’s nipple.
And a shiver zaps all the way down Blaine’s spine while his breath leaves him in an audible huff, bowing his shoulders.
He gets a second to blink into the air over Kurt’s head before Kurt’s mouth lands on his skin, and that turns out to be a sufficient distraction, because he’s pretty sure that Kurt — as though he’s reading Blaine’s mind — is planting a hickey over the inner point of his right collarbone. He flails one hand up to anchor it at the back of Kurt's head and groans heavily, nuzzling into the damp hair at Kurt's temple.
When Kurt seems satisfied with his handiwork, he leans away from Blaine again, resting back on his hands, all but presenting himself. He watches Blaine watch him and cocks an eyebrow, and okay, maybe he is presenting himself. He’s flushed down to his chest, and whether it’s from the blazing afternoon or arousal, Blaine’s not sure. He looks at the place where the blush fades away speculatively, remembering Kurt’s hand skimming up his chest, and almost topples forward to kiss his way from Kurt’s collarbone to his nipple. His breath hitches a little when he gets there, and he drags his tongue over it with interest.
Kurt reacts, but it isn’t as extreme as Blaine is expecting: he whines and twists a bit under Blaine’s mouth and curls a hand around the back of Blaine’s neck. Blaine is a little surprised that Kurt doesn’t do more, he isn’t deterred. He likes the way the nub feels under his tongue when he licks flat across it or circles around it. He likes Kurt’s fingers flexing in his hair when he purses his lips to suck on it. The noises Kurt’s making shift into a higher key when he does, so Blaine indulges for a moment before releasing him with one last, lingering lick.
He glances up at Kurt’s face, his head thick and swimming at what’s coming next, but Kurt’s eyes are downcast, fixing a spot on Blaine’s chest that his mouth quickly finds. Blaine arches into the touch and then Kurt’s working his way down. The closer he gets, the more Blaine feels like he’s choking on his own breath, and then… and then…
Kurt’s tongue touches his nipple first, lightly, almost tentatively, and then his mouth drops down to cover it in a sucking kiss that Blaine feels all the way to his cock. It forces a shocked “oh!” out of him, and he brings both hands up this time to clutch at Kurt wherever they land — on his bare arms and shoulders, it turns out, and they tighten there. Probably too much, because Kurt is drawing away slightly, releasing a ragged gust of air over Blaine’s chest. “That… feels good?” he asks hesitantly, his bravado having apparently been chased back into hiding.
“Yes,” Blaine rasps out. He loosens his fingers, trying to making his hold more of an encouraging squeeze than a death grip.
“Oh,” Kurt says, contemplating Blaine’s skin inches from his face. Blaine is fairly sure that he doesn’t breathe again until Kurt brings his lips back down, where they land disappointingly next to Blaine’s nipple, but then start moving laterally across his chest toward the other one. Blaine lets out a whimper as soon as he realizes where it’s all going, even though Kurt hasn’t even reached his sternum. He forces himself not to dig his fingernails back into Kurt’s skin.
Even though he tries to keep his touch mild and his reactions in check, he can tell there’s a certain amount of hesitance in Kurt’s actions, born out of nervousness, Blaine hopes, and not — thinking that Blaine is a total weirdo for liking this so much. Blaine is almost wondering himself if it’s some kind of strange fluke, but as soon as Kurt’s mouth arrives at his other nipple, he knows it’s not. Kurt parts his lips softly over it, leading with an exploratory swipe of his tongue. “Huh,” Blaine breathes out sharply, the sound rolling into a groan as Kurt brings his mouth into a tight, damp ring and sucks.
Everything is hot and hazy and damp then: the sluggish thoughts in his spinning head, the stifling summer-like air, Kurt’s mouth working on his skin. It’s still a bit tentative, but everything Kurt does — the brushes and twists of his tongue, the suction, the way it just seems to get wetter and wetter — sends fresh jolts of electricity through Blaine’s body. His eyes fall shut, and he’s lost in the sensation, panting out uneven breaths and high-pitched whines, Kurt pulling hard at his skin… and then moving away.
Blaine starts to protest, but before he can even dig a coherent word out of his addled brain, Kurt slides his head up and away.
Which makes his bottom row of teeth scrape over Blaine’s nipple where it stands out stiff from his chest.
Blaine’s entire body spasms and he digs his teeth hard into his lower lip, taken completely off guard by how close he actually is to coming in his pants. He doesn't. Barely.
He's not sure if Kurt notices or not. He's kissing deliberately up the flat of Blaine's chest, and then over his tense neck. He finally draws back to look at Blaine with eyes that are equal parts burning and cautious. “Are you okay?”
“…yeah,” Blaine replies, gaining some measure of control over himself. “Yeah. Very okay.”
“So…” Kurt says, and there’s definitely a hint of playfulness returning. “Now what?”
Blaine stares at Kurt for a minute, his brain far too muddy to continue the game he’d been playing. He lunges instead, all but tackling Kurt back onto the sheet. He doesn’t allow himself to end up completely on top of Kurt — he still knows that would be pushing things too far, too fast — and when they settle, they’re side by side on the sheet, legs tangled but hips apart. They’re kissing as frantically as they ever have, only this time, they’re also grabbing at the bare skin that’s available, and Blaine wouldn’t be surprised to find that he’s actually, literally melting from the heat of it. In some remote corner of his mind, he wonders if maybe this is too fast, but Kurt’s responding eagerly.
As the moments rush on, Blaine realizes that it might be too fast for him, not because it’s making him uncomfortable, but because he’s so very turned on. He’s been painfully hard ever since Kurt’s mouth had been sealed around his nipple, so when Kurt suddenly bites into the thick of his lower lip, Blaine trembles instantly too close to the edge. He groans and pushes away, knowing that they’re going to have to slow down soon if he wants to slow down at all. “I — I need a minute,” he gasps.
Kurt doesn’t protest, letting Blaine go as they both flop back onto the sheet and stare up at the fan. “I’m sorry,” Kurt says, his voice a bit rough. “Was that —”
“No,” Blaine interjects quickly. Without looking, he lets his hand crawl across the sheet until it finds Kurt’s. They lace their fingers together, their skin tacky. “Did I…?”
“No,” Kurt says immediately, squeezing Blaine’s hand a little harder. “But maybe we should, um — go back to the show for a while? I think this is the episode where one of them falls down the stairs and then gets knocked off the runway by a giant gong.”
“Sounds great,” Blaine says. He tips his head to the side to give Kurt a fond smile. Kurt’s face is still practically scarlet, but the corners of his lips turn up shyly. After a few seconds, he rolls away, letting go of Blaine’s hand as he finds his shirt and tugs it back on. Blaine follows suit, albeit a bit reluctantly.
The rest of the afternoon goes much more according to plan. They gulp down more lemonade, watch Tyra crush the hopes and dreams of one young woman after another, and laugh at each other’s attempts at smizing.
But Blaine definitely doesn’t forget.