Sugar Baby

Three

Blaine didn’t hear from Kurt for two days, after he left hastily with barely a word of explanation as to why he was so nervous about being late home, leaving Blaine wandering around the apartment with a towel wrapped around his hips, fantasising about seeing him again and pinning him up against the wall, or down onto the rug in front of the fireplace, relearning the perfect contours of his body, reminding himself how soft his skin was beneath lips skimming kisses over his ribs. The lines carved into his back remained, like a tattoo, fading into pink but still vivid and obvious, a memory of entwined bodies, slick and sliding with sweat, of rough breaths and hitching moans and desperate pleas.

Kurt didn’t make any attempt to contact him, didn’t so much as call even after Blaine had left his number scrawled into the skin of his hip, blurred slightly from a kiss over the black ink after it had settled into Kurt’s body. As much as Blaine hated to admit it, he wanted the boy back in his apartment, stretched out like sin across his bed or his sofa or his floors, wanton and desperate and begging for his mouth, his hands, his tongue, him.

He got work done. He sat on the phone with Sam for an hour, eyes trained on the door, hoping to see familiar hips swaying as a gorgeous teenager sashayed in and tugged the phone from his hand, dropping the device to the floor in favour of straddling Blaine, stripping them both and lowering himself down onto Blaine’s cock, head thrown back in pleasure, but nothing came, and he argued with his manager in order to win himself until Christmas in the ‘artistically inspiring’ state where he’d grown up and escaped from, and had definitely never considered artistically inspiring in his eighteen years just waiting to get out and make something of himself. He twirled a pen between his fingertips while talking to Quinn about press interviews for her first solo album, away from the safety net of Santana and Brittany, wondering if maybe a sexy cat burglar would creep through his window in the dead of night, dressed in leather, to pin him into the bed and rob him of his breath.

Finally, on the third day, after sleepless nights with fantasies and memories entwined and curled around each other, dancing constantly through his mind, clinging to his sheets and creeping over him in the early hours of each morning, Blaine heard the knock at the door midway through a conversation with his public relations officer, and hung up on her without so much as a polite goodbye, springing across the room to take Kurt in his arms, pushing him back against the door with an echoing slam and kissing the breath from his lungs, feeling his heart speeding against his chest, Kurt’s arms almost crushing around him as he clung on tight, panting and clutching at him as if letting go might mean he’d disappear. “Need you,” Kurt whispered against his lips, tugging at the buttons of Blaine’s shirt with one hand and his hair with the other. “Need you now."

"God, I’ve missed you,” Blaine breathed, wrestling his own shirt off and pressing Kurt tight against him with two hands on the small of his back. “You have no idea how many times I’ve gotten hard remembering you spreading those gorgeous legs for me, with no one to take care of it.”

Kurt slid rapidly down his body, kissing over his chest and scraping his nails over the tender flesh, making Blaine shudder and let out long, gravelly moans, to drop prettily to his knees, dragging his tongue hotly over the top of Blaine’s trousers. “Let me blow you,” he whispered against the skin, the vibrations shooting straight to Blaine’s cock.

“God, yes, come on, baby,” Blaine whispered as Kurt tugged his trousers down, staring hungrily at his cock straining against the aubergine cotton of his briefs. “Show me how well you can take a cock down that slutty throat.”

Kurt yanked his underwear down and sank his mouth over him without preamble, teasing at his balls with the featherlight touch of his fingertips, tongue working some sinful magic over the head, tracing the sensitive vein on the underside. Blaine felt his cock nudge against the back of Kurt’s throat, then further as he pressed onwards until his nose was nudging against Blaine’s pelvis, moaning around Blaine’s cock, throat fluttering in a reflexive way as he tried to swallow, causing Blaine to stutter out a moan, hands flying to grab into Kurt’s hair, both to keep his knees from buckling and to hold the boy’s head in place as he began to thrust slowly in and out of the perfect, hot, wet cavern of his mouth.

When Blaine came down Kurt’s throat and the boy pulled away with an obscene wet pop, Kurt smiled sunnily at Blaine and hauled himself to his feet, peeling off his own clothes and throwing them into a pile by the door, bending over with a naughty smirk to rummage through his bag. “I bought supplies with me,” he murmured seductively. “I can give you a little show to get you ready to fuck me if you want. I’d rather like to be fucked against a wall today.”

“Wait,” Blaine said, needing to know, needing to confirm that it wasn’t because of him, “why haven’t you been around for three days? Did you find someone else who can give you better than I can?” Someone younger, richer, better looking, more able to keep up with Kurt’s impressive sexual demands, as if he had been touch-starved all his life.

Kurt’s hand caressing over his cheek was strangely tender, and his eyes very bright when Blaine looked up into them, not to mention how soft, how sweet the kiss Kurt pressed gently to his mouth, compared to their desperate, hot, fervent, passionate kisses before now, just needing each other’s bodies, and now, somehow, in something more. “I could never meet someone better than you,” he promised, then whipped around like a tendril of flame through the night. “Coming?” he asked cheekily, and Blaine followed him eagerly.

Kurt was on the bed by the time Blaine reached the room to join him, feet planted firmly against the silky crimson sheets and legs spread as wide as he could get them. A familiar buzzing filled the room, and Blaine’s eyes immediately fell hungrily over the curved toy Kurt held in his hand, a smirk crossing his pale elven face. “Enjoy the show,” he whispered, and with a flick of the switch turned the vibrator to its highest setting, plunging the sleek black plastic into himself.

Blaine watched with wide, rapidly darkening eyes, palming himself lazily, as Kurt fucked himself on the vibrator, whining, running his free hand all over his body, pinching his nipples and rubbing a finger desperately at his clit, faster and faster until he screamed and came, fluid gushing out of him in an arc and drenching the sheets as he flicked the vibrator off and collapsed into the bed with a sigh.

He lay there, blissful and sated, until Blaine flew across the mattress to press him down, thrusting the hot, hard length of his cock against the slick skin between Kurt’s leg, kissing him off-centre and hard. “God, Kurt, you are so hot, so hot,” he whispered, fighting to keep himself from sliding into Kurt, trying to consider how sensitive he would still be from what had appeared to be a mind-blowing orgasm. “So beautiful for me. Does anyone else fuck you as good as I do, baby?”

“Not one, no one compares,” Kurt whispered, wriggling out from beneath Blaine and looking at him with dark eyes from beneath his hair, dark with sweat and falling over his forehead, making him look even more cherubic, innocent, comparatively untouched by human hand. He stood up and walked over to the wall, leaning back against it with his arms stretched over his head. “Fuck me, now.”

Blaine stood, knees shaking with how desperately he wanted, and reached Kurt in five long strides, driving up into him with a thrust that knocked his head against the wall, Kurt’s nails ripping new scars into his back as Blaine wrapped his arms firmly around the lithe, perfect body and the long legs wound around him, giving both of them leverage for Blaine to thrust up in time with Kurt shoving himself down, head thrown back and screaming his ecstasy to the building, choking on sobs on pleasure as he worked himself on Blaine’s cock, clinging to him, back no doubt getting rubbed raw by the wall as Blaine fucked hard into him as best he could, grunting with the effort, groans rumbling deep in his chest at each clench of Kurt’s muscles around him, until finally they both came, panting and holding each other as they came down.

“Please, never stay away from me for that long again,” Blaine pleaded, very nearly begging, as they lay in a tangle of sweat-glazed skin and clumsy limbs, having slid to the floor as soon as Kurt had disentangled his legs from Blaine’s waist and Blaine had found the willpower to dispose of the condom before joining the exhausted boy on the ground.

“I could never,” Kurt promised, kissing at his shoulder, shifting to press his front against Blaine’s side and slinging an arm over his stomach, fingers caressing gently over his hip. “Sleep now, more sex later.” Blaine hummed contentedly in agreement and slipped his arm around Kurt’s back, holding him closer and inhaling the sweetly mingled scents of sex and innocently floral shampoo that clung to the boy as they both drifted off to sleep, entirely wrapped up in each other.