Kurt’s breath comes out half-laugh, half-sigh, and he buries his face in the crook of Blaine’s neck once again, pressing his mouth there, and then kissing and licking as though he is trying to get a taste. He mumbles, “I don’t know,” and wishes he didn’t have to think about it. If he was a little bit drunker he could just topple into bed and not have to answer Blaine right now. “I don’t know, but I want to.” He pulls back and places a hand over each of Blaine’s cheeks, staring hard at him. �

It’s been a decade and then just friends and now everything, everything, all so agonisingly slow and yet too fast to keep track of. And London, goddamn London. If it weren’t for London, this would be a date and there would be one hot, hungry kiss to end the night and leave them both wanting. More dates and then some important discussions and more kisses, as many kisses as they wanted, and sex, lots of sex, and then weekends together. Eventually, maybe, they would get bored with so much sex (though Kurt doubts it) and take the leap, move in together and find it too easy and… so long as we both shall live.

London.

“I don’t know, Blaine.” He kisses him on the mouth and almost, almost, falls back into it. “But if we stop because we’re scared, I’ll hate myself for it.”

“Kurt, I…” Blaine’s eyes flicker down to Kurt’s mouth and then back up, his hands on Kurt’s waist tightening, flexing against him and Kurt hopes.

Kurt watches and sees everything he’s thinking reflected back in the hunger, the hesitation, in Blaine’s eyes. They’re tipsy on wine and lust and the magnetism that they’ve both felt since that day on the stairs at Dalton. But they’re both also more sober now than they’ve ever been.

Being almost thirty will do that.

It will beg the question: What if we don’t?

“Please say yes,” Kurt says, his fingers tracing the lines of Blaine’s face just in case Blaine is about to say no. He feels the sting of tears threatening, and he’s not sad, but god this feels like a moment—the moment. He swallows hard and Blaine’s fingers stretch further, from the dip of Kurt’s back a little lower to the curve of his ass. “Please mean yes.”

“Always.” It’s so fierce and so true and Blaine captures his mouth just as Kurt gasps, kissing him as deeply as he knows how, dragging him in close with his hands, sliding to grab at Kurt’s ass and hauling him forward against him and grinding and—oh, yes—that’s the heady, dizzying feel of them together. Hip to hip, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, and everything caught between. Their cocks are growing hard and obvious where they’re not letting an inch of air disrupt the contours of their pressed-close bodies.

“God.” Blaine kisses below Kurt’s ear. “Always.” And then again. “Always.” He scratches his teeth down the column of Kurt’s neck and says his name. “Kurt.”

Knees almost giving out, Kurt’s fingers twist into Blaine’s hair to hold him steady and look at him again. Gorgeous. “No regrets, okay?” He needs to be sure that whatever happens after tonight they get to keep now.

“Nope.” Blaine kisses him again, mouth curling into a broad smile against Kurt’s, and Kurt is about to ask why when Blaine pulls back to nuzzle at his cheek, his smile still obvious. “No regrets,” he reiterates, “Just love.” He pulls back and batts his eyelashes. His smile just keeps growing and Kurt groans at how terrible that was, but then giggles in spite of himself. �

And just like that, the weight of the moment shifts and they’re both giggling and chasing each other’s mouths for quick, teasing kisses, one after the other, until Kurt’s teeth are catching Blaine’s bottom lip and biting, tugging, and Blaine’s hips rock up against Kurt’s.

Their mouths break apart and their hands race for the waistbands of each other’s pants, their foreheads leaning together as they try to see down to the mess of shaking fingers and material.

Blaine is the first one to find success, fingers tugging the button of Kurt’s jeans free and then making quick work of the zipper. He lets out a victorious ‘whoop’ as his hands slide under the waistband and push down, the worn-thin denim dropping to below Kurt’s knees and leaving him there in—

“Kurt.” Blaine’s knees crack loud against the floorboards as he slides down in the space between the counter and Kurt’s body to stare. “These are…” he trails off as he dares to trace the outline of Kurt’s cock with his fingertips. “When did you start wearing briefs?”

Kurt’s eyes snap shut and he remembers getting dressed and not paying anywhere near the usual amount of attention to his underwear, and certainly not the careful deliberation he used when he was seventeen and knew Blaine was going to see them.

They’re grey and small. He bought them because they hung low on his hips and accentuated everything, and he threw them on tonight because they look fine under jeans and were clean and good god, Blaine really does make him forget himself.

He’s blushing and swallowing hard because when he looks down, Blaine is on his knees, mouth open and eyes fixed on where he’s got his fingers shifting by small degrees over the fabric and around Kurt’s dick, watching the outline and licking his lips, looking up and saying with near-comical reverence, “You never ever used to wear briefs.”

Kurt laughs lightly and threads his fingers back through Blaine’s curls. “You never used to leave your hair ungelled,” he teases, breath catching at the end as Blaine’s hand moves to cup him through his underwear and his breath puffs hot against the crease of Kurt’s thigh.

This time Blaine doesn’t look up. “Do you really like my hair curly?”

Tugging at Blaine’s hair again, feeling the softness around his fingers, Kurt is about to agree but his voice fails, slipping into a whine as Blaine presses his hot, open mouth around the base of Kurt’s cock, heat and wetness seeping through the cotton. “Blaine,” Kurt calls and tugs again, sharper. “Come up here.”

Sighing heavily and feeling light-headed, Blaine sucks once again and promises himself he’ll have his mouth around Kurt’s cock properly before the night is over. He rocks back and up to his feet and when he stumbles, Kurt catches him by the hips and pushes him back against the counter again. They kiss and Kurt moans into it, rubbing up against Blaine’s crotch as though he can’t help it.

Blaine doesn’t even notice the sneak of Kurt’s hand between them, deft and searching and undoing his jeans. Kurt kisses up his jaw, wet and sucking, and stops at his ear.

“What do you want to do?” Kurt asks. It’s all that matters, all he cares about, and he’s never like that with anybody and he knows it.

“Everything,’ Blaine breathes out. “Everything or anything or—“

Kurt gets Blaine’s shirt off in one quick move, dragging it up and over his head and throwing it over the counter towards the dining table. He lifts Blaine’s glasses from where they’re still perched on his head, albeit at an odd angle, and slides them across the bench for safekeeping. Blaine forgets to speak or move so Kurt tugs his own Henley and the undershirt beneath it up and off and throws it in the same direction.

“God, you’re beautiful,” trips from Blaine’s lips, and Kurt blushes and laughs and then sinks slowly to his knees, kissing Blaine’s chin, his sternum and just to the side of a nipple, as he goes. There’s hair he’s never seen before, not like this, scattered across Blaine’s chest, tickling his nose, and the scent is deeper and darker than he remembers.

He licks a circle around Blaine’s belly button and bites at the skin, pulling at it before letting it slide from his teeth and kissing there. His hands make quick work of Blaine’s pants now, pulling them from hip to ankle before Blaine even realizes what’s going on.

Mouth still on Blaine’s belly, intoxicated with the taste and the smell and the way little shivers keep rippling through the muscle beneath, Kurt reaches blindly for Blaine’s crotch, hand smoothing over Blaine’s hard cock and tight balls under too-thin cotton, and making Blaine buck.

He kisses once more at the trail of dark hair under Blaine’s belly button and then breathes out harshly. He’s hard in his briefs, the tight material almost uncomfortable, and in a second he’ll reach down and re-arrange himself, but first, he wants to see Blaine, naked and hard and his.

Another nuzzle of Blaine’s belly and Blaine’s hands are playing in his hair. Kurt pulls back and very promptly giggles, burying his face back against the warm skin of Blaine’s hip. “Sexy, Blaine,” he teases, voice muffled. “Very sexy.”

“Wha—“ Blaine looks down and remembers just what he slipped into after his shower: tight little boxer briefs with pink and lavender horizontal lines. They’re actually not the worst pair he owns, not even nearly. “Oh.” He pouts and when Kurt looks up he laughs again. “Clearly, neither one of us expected to be seen in our underwear.” Kurt reaches up to press his hand to Blaine’s cheek, except Blaine turns his head and sucks a finger into his mouth before Kurt can stop him and holds him there with his hand tight around Kurt’s wrist. He sucks until Kurt moans and slumps against him a little, face back against his stomach and Blaine is quickly coming to the conclusion that’s exactly where it should always be.

He licks over the skin between thumb and forefinger and says, “You try dressing like an ADA every day of the week and then tell me you wouldn’t do exactly the same.” Kurt reclaims his hand and stifles another laugh, pressing his lips to the jut of a hipbone. Blaine’s voice has dipped low and husky when he speaks again. “Take them off.”

And Kurt’s mouth goes dry, his eyes wide, and he’s suddenly remembering why they’re here. His thumbs slide under the purple waistband and he stares up rather than watch as he drags the material down Blaine’s legs. The transition from smooth skin to the scratch of the hair on Blaine’s legs is enough to have Kurt’s heart stuttering, his breath coming fast all of a sudden.

He kisses Blaine’s belly again and Blaine groans above him either in impatience or sensory overload, it’s hard to tell, and then Blaine says his name and Kurt thinks it’s both. “Kurt, please.”

Shushing him, Kurt tries not to look right away because he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself from leaning in and sucking him off once he does. Already, he knows he’s not going to be standing up until the job is done, and he remembers exactly how euphoric it feels to make Blaine come across his tongue. He looks down the length of Blaine’s legs, paler than he remembers, and he wonders about Blaine in those suits. The hair seems coarser and the muscles even thicker than in high school. He eases one of Blaine’s feet up—he’d forgotten Blaine was barefoot this entire time—and slips his pants and underwear off.

Then the other and when he looks up, Blaine is completely, gorgeously naked, leaning back against the counter. “Fuck,” Kurt breathes out.

Blaine laughs, voice pulled taut over the words as he says, “That’s the plan.”

Kurt is meant to laugh but instead he just agrees whole-heartedly, silently, and then drops his gaze to Blaine’s cock. He should feel stupid for breathing out Blaine’s name again and again as his fingers curl, slow and easy, around Blaine’s length, but he doesn’t have the brainpower to stop himself and Blaine’s whole body is shaking with holding back, his knuckles white against the kitchen counter.��

“You’re more stunning than I remember,” Kurt mumbles, the words hitting Blaine’s skin, warm and wet and making him whine high in his throat.

“Kurt, please…” He sounds undone already.

Involuntarily, Kurt’s hand slides the length of his cock, Blaine’s hips immediately rocking up to meet the touch and mismatching the movement. Kurt could just go for it, he should, but god, he wants to hear Blaine say it.

He would never have though himself to be so brazen with something so delicate, but he is. He’s learnt that in the last decade. “What do you want Blaine?” He kisses at a hipbone again and his hand moves with the same rough friction. “Tell me what you want.” Kurt bites the skin, marks it with a red splotch that he hopes will fade to a more permanent purple, and Blaine moans.

“Suck me,” tumbles from Blaine’s mouth and Kurt has to reach down between his own legs and press the heel of his hand into his own cock, fingers moving gingerly to pull the waistband down to press at his balls and free himself.� That’s all though.

“God, I need your mouth.”

Kurt licks across his teeth and doesn’t swallow because that would be a waste. He tries to remember how he was at this ten years ago, his foggy mind tripping over the dozen memories of tentative and sloppy and learning how to do it together.

Then he drops his gaze from Blaine’s eyes to his cock, fists it again, and lets his mouth fall open around the head.

Above him, Blaine makes a choked off sound and raises up on his toes. It makes Kurt want to giggle, but he can’t, because there’s precome and skin, intimate and salty and Blaine, on his tongue and he can’t get enough. He swirls his tongue around twice, licking at the slit and chasing the bitterness there and humming his pleasure, feeling it slip right through him from his mouth to his balls, where it settles hot and latent, waiting for touch to draw it up.

But this is about Blaine, making Blaine come undone, and remembering exactly what it’s like to be with someone you want this badly. Blaine who has a hand in Kurt’s hair, twisting it roughly as Kurt keeps sucking at just the tip and caressing over Blaine’s hips and ass.

Blaine feels Kurt take the deep breath through his nose, but he’s still not ready at all when Kurt’s hands grasp at his hips to hold him still so Kurt can sink his mouth all the way down, swallowing tight around him and making Blaine’s skin feel like it’s on fire.

Hot and deep and inside Kurt—who gives a fuck if it’s his mouth—Blaine is as deep as he can get, bottomed out and the light stubble of Kurt’s chin is itching against Blaine’s balls and that’s hot for so many obscene reasons. Kurt slides back and it’s welcome relief even though all Blaine wants to do is grab Kurt’s head and pull him back down.

Kurt has to say it twice to get Blaine to hear him. His head is lolled all the way back, so he’s staring at the ceiling until Kurt’s voice registers. “Look at me.”

Blaine does and as Kurt slides his mouth down, stretched wide and red and spit-slick, Blaine’s gaze flickers from that to Kurt’s eyes, blue and wide, the corners creased with some sort of pleasure. Kurt moves his mouth like that a few more times, sucking the taste of Blaine from every inch of his cock, holding him as deep as he can for as long as he can and revelling in the mumbled praise he doesn’t think Blaine even realizes he’s giving.

“Oh god,” and “Kurt,” and “Perfect,” and “Fuck.”

Kurt starts to feel dizzy and his lips feel too tight. He slides back, settling on his haunches and kissing lazily at the head, licking off the slickness as it beads there. He watches the way Blaine’s head flops from side to side and back and then drops down, curls over his forehead, cheeks stained red, and sweat making his body glisten.

“Where did you—“ voice raw, Blaine stops to swallow, distracted for a minute by his hand back in Kurt’s hair, angling him and directing his lips in an open-mouthed slide down the side of his cock. “If you’d been able to do that to me ten years ago I would have had some serious performance problems.”

Kurt chuckles and arches his back a little as he slides his mouth half way down in a tease and then back and off. He loves the scratch to his own voice when he speaks, completely ignoring what Blaine said. “You should shut up and come.”

Blaine laughs and his hips angle forward again, dick sliding across Kurt’s smiling lips. “Over so soon,” he laments, even as his eyes skip over Kurt’s face and his hand grasps at the counter tighter.

“Wanna taste you,” is all Kurt says and then sinks down again, his hands shifting from Blaine’s hips, letting him move into his mouth. Nails down Blaine’s thighs and then fingertips teasing across Blaine’s balls, behind, feeling him out and making him moan. Kurt keeps working his mouth over him.

He swallows hard and sucks and lets his eyes water to the point where there are tears on his cheeks and he loves that, he always loves that stretch to the point of looking so wrecked and undone, and when Blaine looks down at him, traces a cheekbone with his thumb, it’s obvious Blaine’s never seen him like that before.

Blaine calls his name and pulls his hair and Kurt slides off again, and now he’s the one to beg, voice rasping. “Wanna remember what you taste like.”

It makes both Blaine’s hands bury themselves in Kurt’s hair and pull his mouth back down onto Blaine’s cock. Just for a second. And then Blaine’s hands are gone and he’s spluttering as Kurt coughs and wipes a hand over his lips. “Sorry, shit, you can’t say things like that and—“

Kurt coughs again, licks his lips, and grins. “You can fuck my mouth,” he mumbles, the faintest blush rising in his cheeks because he would never ever have dreamed he would say such things to Blaine, even if he has said it to so many other men. “I like it,” he reassures.

“I really…” Blaine pets a hand down the side of Kurt’s face, fingers tracing his lips, and he watches with wide eyes as Kurt turns his face into the touch, licking over the pad of Blaine’s thumb. “You’re amazing,” Blaine breathes.

Both hands shift to Kurt’s face, slow and careful, and Kurt wants to feel the scratch in his throat for days. More than that, he wants to watch Blaine come apart. He kisses at the head, swirling his tongue around and sucking lightly at the underside. He feels silly asking, but he’s waited too long to miss out and his whole body thrums with wanting affirmation that this is real. “Just make sure I taste it when you come.”

Blaine nods as though he understands and stares down at Kurt, debauched and wrecked and perfect. His hands tighten in Kurt’s hair and he stalls, sliding just the tip across Kurt’s tongue and watching.

Kurt just stares up, still and breathing evenly through his nose, eyes a challenge and hair messed and sweaty beneath Blaine’s touch.

“Oh Kurt,” Blaine whimpers and then slides slowly, easily, all the way forward, watching the way Kurt’s breath stutters and stops, his lips tightening around the girth of Blaine’s cock and his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. It feels too good, way, way too good, and Blaine wishes he had the willpower to do everything, but he doesn’t and he’s going to come from this, across Kurt’s tongue, and then spend as long as he possibly can paying Kurt back.

He watches Kurt’s eyes glaze over and his throat work through a swallow that he feels to his very core. Then he pulls back, eyes fluttering shut at the hot drag of Kurt’s throat and mouth over his cock.

He fucks back forward then, into Kurt’s open throat, deep and then deeper still, pulling Kurt forward onto him, feeling where Kurt’s nose is pressed into the hair at the base of his cock. This time when he pulls back, Kurt moans.

Again and again and it feels too tight and hot and wet to last. Better than anything, Blaine thinks, and his head swims with it. His skin is too tight and his spine is too loose and Kurt is just taking it so, so beautifully.

�

His balls are tight and aching every time they slap against Kurt’s chin, his muscles threatening to cramp. Blaine would warn Kurt, would say something other than his name and a string of profanities, except it’s his hands pulling Kurt’s mouth down, his hips fucking forward into his mouth.

Kurt has no say in the matter and is wanton with it, eyes shut and face stained red and moaning when he can find the breath to.

Fuck.

Blaine pulls him down around his cock one more time and holds himself tight, waiting just a little longer, buried and perfect and wishing he could get himself around Kurt right now, drag him in and close and come together but it is far too late for that. Then he pulls back, lets himself feel every delicious inch of hot-wet-tight friction on his way out and forces himself not to fuck straight back in.

He hooks his thumb into the corner of Kurt’s mouth without thinking, between his teeth, holding his lips wide open and curving himself over Kurt so the head of his cock rests against Kurt’s tongue, the throb in his balls, in his belly, making his whole body ache.

“Kurt,” he calls and waits for Kurt to open his eyes and blink away the moisture and look up at him through tear-wet eyelashes.

Then he’s coming, a hand going around the base of his own cock to work himself through it, coming white across Kurt’s tongue and down his throat, his hips stuttering as Kurt automatically closes his lips around Blaine’s cock and thumb to suck. Blaine’s cock slips free as he gasps and pants, hips jerking. He comes in a streak across Kurt’s lips and his own hand where it’s now pressed around Kurt’s chin.

Then back inside Kurt’s mouth, Kurt’s lips closed and tight and hot and sucking, working him through it but not letting him deep, flicking his tongue around the head and licking at the slit, over and over and swallowing hard on the taste. Just when Blaine feels his legs start to give out, the aftershocks too much and his whole world swimming before his eyes, Kurt grabs his ass and pulls him forward, deep down his throat and he swallows again.

“Fuck,” Blaine says it too loudly as he stumbles back the few inches into the kitchen counter, weight sagging there as his cock slides from Kurt’s lips with an obscene wet sound and he sees, out of the corner of his eye, Kurt lick his lips and smirk.

His head falls back and he moans again, simply because he can. Eyes sliding shut, his whole body feels boneless and wonderful and he wants to curl up against something warm and sleep but oh god, he wants more. He wants everything he can get and down at his knees, Kurt, he knows, is smirking and watching him—all of him—and caressing his fingers in swirls up and down the skin of Blaine’s thighs.

He stays that way until he can feel his toes again and then he blinks his eyes open and looks down. Kurt is looking back at him, dishevelled and fucked raw, grinning hard with bright red lips and come still on his chin. He looks perfect.

Blaine pulls him up and against him, fumbling and almost falling to get them close again, and his cock twitches painfully at the friction of Kurt’s thigh and he can feel Kurt deliciously hard against his hip. Then he kisses him and the rest of his body just melts away.� Hard, owning kisses that he never wants to end, even as his whole body is reeling from it and fighting for breath and air.� Pushing his tongue into Kurt’s mouth even as Kurt gasps and laughs and kisses him back, trying to keep up. Blaine tastes himself and Kurt and sweat and can’t stop himself from holding Kurt’s face in his hands as he kisses across his cheek bones and then back to his lips, sucking on one and then the other and delighting in the way Kurt rocks into him.

Kurt mumbles out, “Blaine,” like a plea, and Blaine takes long enough to look at him, to slide his thumb through the cooling drip of come on his chin and slide it into his mouth. Kurt moans around it and then kisses him once more.

“That was amazing,” Blaine says into his mouth. “You’re amazing.” Kurt’s mouth slides down the column of his throat and begins to work a mark there, content to wait for Blaine to get his breath back. “God, I wanted to do more than that.”

Kurt’s teeth nip hard enough to sting as he laughs into Blaine’s skin.

“Seriously, I never wanted that to end and I wanted…” Blaine can’t think like this, so he pulls Kurt off and stutters as Kurt stares at his neck. “I wanted more than that. I wanted everything.”

Kurt laughs at him and ducks his eyes and kisses his sternum. They’re both thinking that if they do this right, tonight could go for hours and Blaine will fight the pull of sleep and cuddling for as long as he can. Kurt imagines all the skin he can kiss and then realizes that Blaine is right there under his mouth and gets distracted and kisses lower, over the curve of his chest, the hair tickling his lips. “I thought I did pretty well,” he teases.

“Oh my god, Kurt you were amazing. You… I… I have never, ever, come like that.” He’s earnest, but then Blaine gets that he is teasing and wonders with a sucked down breath if it’s the alcohol or the decade of waiting or Kurt himself that’s making him babble. “Fuck off,” he mumbles when Kurt smirks at him, eyes twinkling.

“I don’t remember you swearing this much, Blaine.” He tries to sound scandalized, just a little, but falls short because he really kind of loves it and his voice is still low and throaty.

Blaine attempts to glare and tries to get his fingers working well enough to start tracing patterns up Kurt’s side and across his belly.� “Yeah?” Blaine swallows, chasing and finally finding focus again. Now it’s Kurt’s turn. He slides his hand flat across Kurt’s belly and down, around Kurt’s cock with slow deliberation, watching Kurt’s face as he does it. “I don’t remember you ever asking me to fuck your mouth.”

“I like it,” Kurt whispers, face already tinging red again, eyes closed and his hips rocking into the barely there touch of Blaine’s hand.

“I know,” Blaine says, giving Kurt’s cock a squeeze. “Jesus, Kurt.”

“I’m not quite as shy as I used to be,” Kurt states, watching between them where Blaine’s started a slow stroke up and down his dick.

“Neither am I,” Blaine says without thinking.

“Oh?” Kurt tempts, making Blaine look up and fix him with a steady gaze.

“Yeah,” Blaine mumbles, and with aching clarity, he suddenly knows exactly what he wants. He kisses Kurt hard, once, letting him fall heavy against his chest and moan into his mouth. “You wanna come?” Blaine asks.