Oh yes.

Yes.

Yeah, this is exactly what he's been missing for five, painfully long years. Blaine knows just how to kiss him, just how to swipe his tongue, just how to pinch Kurt's lower lip with his teeth. He knows just how to rub his hip against Kurt's erection through his jeans, just the way to make him gasp and how does he even remember these things? Kurt still has Blaine's wrists pinned against the door and Blaine's fingers are flexing, twisting, trying grab at anything and Kurt loves him this way.

"Want you to fuck me," Blaine groans into Kurt's ear.

"Yes," Kurt hisses, releasing his hold on Blaine's wrist because yes, yeah, oh definitely, that's exactly what's going to happen and he wants it to happen right fucking now right this instant yes, fuck, please.

So Blaine pushes forward, shoving Kurt back, but their hands are still latched on to each other's bodies as they dance that awkward, fumbling, not-at-all graceful dance that was still familiar to them. They're dancing it straight through the small living room, where they kick off their shoes, down the small hallway, where Blaine loses his t-shirt, and straight into Kurt's room. Kurt throws Blaine against the wall, some picture crashing to the ground but that doesn't matter at all when Kurt crashes their lips together again. And sweet holy fuck, it was wonderful, absolutely wonderful to kiss those lips, the ones he thought he'd never taste again.

With shaking, lusting hands, Blaine rids Kurt of his shirt and ugh, finally, finally their naked chests are pressed together and Kurt wonders if maybe he grew a little bit or Blaine shrunk because their height difference has changed since five years ago.

Five years ago when they were seventeen and not drunk off vodka or tequila, only drunk off each other.

Kurt decides he'll give up drinking and smoking if he can keep this.

Blaine's chest and stomach are still firm and flat, though with noticeably more hair but it's not too much more. Kurt presses himself closer, their lips still locked, and lets Blaine's chest hair tickle and scratch at his own skin and it feels so, so, hot. He threads his fingers through Blaine's hair harshly because, hey, this is so not the time for sweet and gentle and he's been wanting to fist his hands in those curls since the moment he saw Blaine on that LA sidewalk a few days ago.

They're both panting and Kurt can already feel sweat in Blaine's hair. Kurt drags his knee up the inside of Blaine's denim clad thigh and then nudges up against Blaine's obvious arousal. Blaine's head drops to Kurt's shoulder.

"Kurt," he's pleading, he's shuddering, "please, please."

Kurt nuzzles Blaine's ear with his nose and then darts his tongue out to flick against his earlobe, exhaling hotly, and then he lets his teeth graze against the shell.

"Ugh, god, fuck, nngh," Blaine's mumbling and it seems like he's having trouble deciding if he should pull his head away or press closer and let Kurt continue the delicious assault.

Yeah, Kurt's pretty sure he loves this.

"Still want me to fuck you?" Kurt whispers, gruff and low.

Blaine moans and his head falls back and hits the wall. Kurt takes that as a 'oh fuck yes please now, that'd be kind of great' and drops his knee while sliding his hands between them. It takes a total of four solid seconds and then Kurt has both of their jeans undone.

He's shaking.

He slips a hand down, down, down, into the confines of Blaine's underwear.

The noise that comes from Blaine's mouth is so much more than a moan and the sound of it makes Kurt's head spin and his stomach tighten.

Kurt squeezes Blaine's cock, grinning somewhat triumphantly when Blaine begins to thrust up. He adjusts his hold, even though it's difficult with Blaine's underwear still on, and grips him just the way he knows he likes.

"God, yeah, mmm," Blaine groans, his eyes shut tight and his cheek presses against Kurt's jaw.

"No one knows you like I do," Kurt whispers, his voice frayed. "No one knows just what you like," he kisses Blaine's temple, "just where to touch you," he squeezes him harder, "just how to make you scream."

It almost sounds like Blaine is crying, he's breathing so hard, but Kurt knows better and he feels Blaine's stomach muscles clench and he knows exactly what's about to happen.

He pulls his hand away, just when Blaine was right there on the edge, just when he was about to come and Blaine just kind of collapses against him. Blaine presses his head to Kurt's chest, whining against his shoulder and clutching at Kurt's arms, his neck, his back, anything he could reach.

But they weren't seventeen anymore.

And Kurt wants this to last a little bit longer.

"I'm here," his whispers, trying to calm Blaine down because he remembers how tactile Blaine is with sex, how he doesn't want to pull away and how he likes to be really, really close and held. "I've got you."

Blaine's muttering something, stuttering and shaking his head and Kurt knows he was close and he wants to finish him, wants to see him lose control because of the way he touches Blaine, because of the way he kisses Blaine.

Kurt grabs Blaine's hips and they stumble onto the bed, Blaine flat on his back on the mattress with Kurt hovering over him. He presses kisses, wet, furious kisses all over Blaine's body as he rids them both of their jeans.

He doesn't want to think about anyone else ever having been here, licking this salty skin, moving against the sweat on this chest, smelling this perfect, musky, cinnamon scent, breathing in this boy, this man, this fucking beautiful, beautiful person beneath him. And he hates knowing that other people have, he hates knowing that other people were here. Kurt and Blaine were each other's firsts and it should have stayed like that, god damnit, Kurt never should have had to share him and he should never have had to get it from somewhere else.

Because this, Kurt thinks as he peels Blaine's underwear down his hips, down his legs, and off, this is his.

And Blaine is so not a boy anymore. His cock is thick and purpling with arousal, blood still furiously pumping down and sweet mother of god, Kurt can't help but taste. So he swipes his tongue over the tip and Blaine shouts, his hands shooting down to grip Kurt's hair and he drags him back up his body to kiss him again.

"Please, Kurt," Blaine begs, thrusting his cock into the crook of Kurt's still not quite naked hip. "I – I need you, I need you please, just you, I only want you, it's always been you."

He's saying all this in a few, rushed, strangled breathy sobs against Kurt's lips and yeah, Kurt thinks, he loves this. He's in love with this, he's in love with Blaine and he wants to give this to him. He wants to drag out those magnificent sighs he knows Blaine makes, wants to hear those precious moans, and he wants to hear Blaine whisper his name when he finally tips over the edge.

"Okay, I will, it's okay," Kurt soothes him because Blaine is writhing uncontrollably now and there are little tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and Kurt is pretty sure he's never seen someone who needs to be fucked this badly.

So he slides his underwear off and ohsweetfuckme, yes, they're finally pressed together, no clothes, no strained distance, no countries or oceans between them. They're sweaty and oddly sticky for some reason but Blaine's skin is sex warm and Kurt's on fire, fire, fire despite the cool chill in the air just beyond his bedroom window. But they're inside, they're here on top of soft sheets because he'd neglected to make his bed this morning, and he's here with Blaine and Blaine kissing him and breathing against his neck, the scratch of his facial hair just another thing that thrills Kurt.

"Kurt…Kurt…"

"I know," Kurt sobs against his cheek.

Kurt reaches his arm out in the dark, fingers clumsy and he digs around in his nightstand drawer for some lube and a condom.

Kurt hates that they have to use a condom.

But he doesn't know who Blaine has been with, doesn't know who's touched him there and it's a necessary precaution and he hates that it's a necessary precaution.

He lubes up his fingers quickly and Blaine lifts one of his legs, hooking it around Kurt's pale back almost instinctively. Kurt slips his hand down, letting one wet finger trail over the length of Blaine's erection, and goes lower and lower until two slick fingers brush against Blaine's entrance.

Blaine gasps below him and he's moving his hips like he can't take it anymore, like he needs Kurt inside of him right this fucking minute, and Kurt gives him that. He presses his fingers in through the tight ring of muscle, feeling Blaine clench around him.

"Oh god," Blaine breathes when Kurt presses in deeper.

Blaine is fisting the sheets, his leg tightens around Kurt's back and he's bearing down around Kurt's two fingers, despite his body trying to deny the intrusion.

"S'it good?" Kurt mumbles in askance into Blaine's ear.

"Yes," Blaine whimpers, drawing out the sharp consonant at the end of the word just a bit. "Kurt…please…"

And Kurt knows he needs more, needs everything, so he stretches him as quickly and thoroughly as he can before slipping in a third finger. He works Blaine open with some kind of practiced ease, like he's been doing this all his life, like Blaine's body was created for him and him alone.

Blaine begins to shake and shiver, his body is wound so tightly and Kurt is proud. He's so proud that he can still turn Blaine into this sweaty, wanton boy, one who begs and pleads to have Kurt inside of him.

Kurt pulls his fingers out slowly and tears open the condom wrapper, tosses aside the foil and slowly slides the condom onto himself. Jesus fuck, he's hard as steel and he can see Blaine's eyes on him. The moonlight is spilling through the window and onto their bodies and he's almost certain that Blaine has never looked more beautiful than in that single, spectacular moment.

For some reason, one he'd never be able to explain, Kurt takes a second and lets his unsteady hand settle on Blaine's knee, lets it trail lightly over his thigh and lets his thumb caress Blaine's jutting hip bone.

Blaine is gazing up at him with such…adoration and expectation, gazing through tear drops on dark lashes and then he smiles so gradually and it's so sweet that Kurt thinks he just dropped into heaven.

I'm so incredibly in love with you.

He wishes he could say it out loud.

Instead, he positions himself at Blaine's entrance and leans down to kiss him gently, softly, letting his lips linger as he pushes inside.

And this is where he's meant to be; in this bed, under this moonlit window, kissing these swollen lips, inside this very person.

They were cut from the same star pattern, Kurt thinks in that moment, glistening and bright and oh so lovely.

Blaine tenses beneath him, but Kurt takes his hands, entwines their fingers, and presses them into the mattress on either side of Blaine's head.

"It was always only ever you," Blaine whispers when Kurt's fully sheathed inside of him. "Just you."

A strangled little sob escapes from Kurt's throat and he rests his forehead against Blaine's as he pulls out and slides back in.

Perfect, perfect, you're so perfect, Kurt keeps thinking.

Because it feels like Blaine is just as tight and just as hot around him as he remembers and this, right here, right now, is the closest they've ever been and will ever be again. They move together, Blaine hooking his ankles around Kurt's back and Kurt thrusts in and up and –

"Kurtyesgodohmygodthere!"

Kurt smiles against Blaine's lips and thrusts again. Blaine is positively undone, that's it, it's over and he's hanging on for dear life as Kurt continuously tortures him in the very best way, hitting that little ball of nerves so deep inside him over and over again. They're panting, hot breath of smoke and tequila and the bittersweet scent of a love that balances on a precipice of something completely otherworldly – it's all mixing together between them under the glow of the moon and in the shadows of their sweaty bodies in that too small, almost dingy apartment. Kurt's heart races, his stomach clenches, Blaine's fingers squeeze his own so hard he's afraid they'll break and Kurt's name slips from Blaine's lips in the form of a broken moan and that forgotten promise.

They're falling together.

The way they were meant to.

Sleep claims them almost instantly.