“Blaine?” Kurt’s voice is muffled against his neck, but the question breaks through. He knows what Kurt’s asking; he knows what it means. Blaine knows what he wants. Finally.

“Ok,” Blaine whispers into the quiet of the apartment around him. There’s music coming from Blaine’s laptop, something he put on earlier in the evening, but the air around him feels thick and charged. He can barely breathe.

Kurt draws back and Blaine’s chest tightens at the sight of him. Kurt’s lips are so red and already a little swollen from Blaine’s kisses and his eyes are a dark, stormy grey. His hair, usually swept immaculately up and back, is a mess from Blaine’s grasping hands and a lock of hair sweeps across his forehead. Blaine digs his fingers tighter into Kurt’s hips at the look of desperate longing on Kurt’s striking face.

Don’t ask me if I’m sure, he begs silently.

“Ok,” Kurt repeats back, and his voice is deeper, raspier than Blaine’s ever heard it, and suddenly he’s surging in for another kiss that Blaine feels in his very bones. Blaine hopes that his mouth remembers how to kiss, because his brain is quickly losing the ability for coherent thought or coordination. He whimpers when Kurt pushes off his lap and stands up, and the loss of pressure on his groin is sweetly painful. Even like this, with an erection pressed so obviously against his fly, Kurt is effortlessly graceful and elegant, beautiful in motion in a way Blaine will never be.

Blaine gets unsteadily to feet with far less panache than Kurt, but it doesn’t matter because Kurt’s arms are around him immediately, pulling him flush to Kurt’s body. Blaine gasps. Kurt’s erection is hard and unmistakable against his hip, and his mouth goes dry just with the thought of it.

I made him feel like this, Blaine thinks, giddy with it. It’s been so very long since he’s felt wanted; since he’s felt like he’s made someone else feel desired in return. Blaine had forgotten the heady rush of it – the way his blood sings and his skin feels stretched too tight over his bones. The way everything that isn’t touch and taste and smell and sweat falls away.

Kurt drags his fingers through Blaine’s hair and tilts his head back for another kiss, deep and wet and Blaine moans into it. He can’t help it. He clings to Kurt’s back and opens his mouth wider for Kurt’s tongue. When he thinks about it, he’s never actually felt like this.

***

Blaine’s heart is pounding, hard and fast and so loud in his ears he almost can’t hear Kurt breathing. Almost. Kurt is in his bedroom. His bedroom. He doesn’t remember the stumbling steps they took across his small living room or the way Kurt’s fingers crept up underneath his shirt to tease at his waist, but Blaine finds himself backed up against the edge of his bed. The mattress is firm and obvious behind his knees and Blaine keeps himself from sinking down onto it through willpower alone. He wants to though. He wants to stretch out beneath Kurt and let Kurt know every last part of him.

He glances around. His room is as tidy as it always is. His bookshelf is organized (by height and genre) and his nightstand is free of any clutter; the water glass even sits on a coaster, though he doesn’t remember ever putting it on one. The bed is made and his clothes are hanging nice and neat in the closet - his Starbucks polos are shoved to the side so the heavy scent of coffee might not leech into the rest of his wardrobe; it does anyway. The only mess on the floor is Kurt’s shirt, which he’s pulled up and off and dropped to the ground before Blaine can even draw in another breath.

Oh, Blaine thinks fuzzily.

Kurt is exquisite – pale and muscled in a way that’s so often masked by the slim cut of his expensive clothes. But he’s broad, with wide shoulders and strong arms. Blaine doesn’t want to say that his waist is thick, but it is. Where Blaine curves in, Kurt is solid and smoothly muscled. Blaine wants to reach out and rest his hands in the indentations of Kurt’s hips, exposed by the low cut of his pants, and drag his thumbs along the crease of his groin. It aches in his gut to know that he’s allowed to do just that; that it’s wanted from him.

“Is this ok?” Kurt asks, and he takes a hold of the hem of Blaine’s t-shirt. It’s an old ratty thing from his freshman year at NYU. It’s got a hole in the collar and the lettering is so faded it’s hard to read. But it’s his favorite.

Blaine nods. It’s more than ok. God it’s so much more than ok.

Gooseflesh rises all across his body as Kurt slowly draws his shirt up and over his head. He flushes hotly as Kurt rakes his eyes, gone dark with arousal, appreciatively across his bared torso and lingers on his small, dusky nipples, the sharp cut of his hipbones. Blaine clenches his fists to keep from wrapping his arms protectively around himself.

Blaine knows, objectively, that he’s not awful looking – at least physically, even if he is shorter than average. He’s not ashamed of how he looks; he changes without embarrassment in the locker room at the gym. For the most part, he’s rather indifferent towards his body. It exists; skin and muscles and bones all working together to get him through the day. But he can’t be apathetic when he’s standing half-naked in his bedroom, bathed in the warm light of his floor lamp, with a gorgeous man staring at him like he’s some kind of wonderful thing to behold. Blaine shivers and he feels his nipples harden. He feels feverish even though the air is cool; the radiator in this room has never quite worked right.

“You,” Kurt pauses and licks his lips. “You are so lovely.” His voice is soft and ragged.

Blaine has to close his eyes against the aching rush of emotion that floods through him. He doesn’t want to believe it, but he has to. He can’t deny the look in Kurt’s eyes or the quality of his voice, so honest, so fucking sincere.

Kurt reaches out and strokes a careful hand down the center of Blaine’s chest, all the way down to his waistband, and the pause of his fingers is its own kind of cautious question. Blaine nods again and the muscles in his stomach tremble as Kurt’s strong, dexterous fingers undo the fly of his pants. Blaine sucks in a sharp breath as Kurt’s fingers dip low and brush against heated skin and coarse hair. Kurt undresses them slowly, easing Blaine’s pants down over his hips and stroking his fingers along the insides of Blaine’s thighs as he does so. Blaine’s knees shake and he struggles to breathe.

It feels like ten seconds and an hour before they’re both gloriously, blissfully, frighteningly naked. Blaine lets himself stare – at Kurt’s strong shoulders, the length of his torso, the leanness of his thighs. His vulnerable, naked feet. Kurt is breathing heavily and the movement shifts his skin across his muscles and bones. Blaine wants to touch. He is desperate to touch.

“You can,” Kurt says, and it’s just barely above a whisper. “I want you to.”

Blaine doesn’t know if he said something out loud, or if Kurt can just read his mind, but the permission rings like a bell throughout his body, shaking open all sorts of locked windows and closed doors.

He maps Kurt’s body with measured, increasing confident touches. He strokes his palms down Kurt’s arms first, because it’s easiest and safest to begin with what he already knows. He knows Kurt’s arms and how they fit around him so perfectly. He lingers on Kurt’s lower ribs because it makes Kurt gasp and shiver, and slips his arms around Kurt’s waist to stroke at the long curve of his spine and brush his fingertips across the top of his ass. Kurt shudders in his hold and presses a kiss to Blaine’s cheek and then his mouth. Blaine wants to kneel at Kurt’s feet and map the bone of his ankle with his tongue.

Kurt’s thighs are firm and lightly haired beneath his hands as Blaine feels his way up to Kurt’s groin. The skin is velvet soft and so hot to the touch, stretched across the hard length. Blaine knows what a cock feels like, of course he does, but this is so very different. The heat of him, silky-hot in his palm and the delicate tracing of veins is all at once familiar and heart-stoppingly foreign. Kurt gasps when Blaine rubs his thumb gently across the head, swiping through the slick beading at the tip, and drops his forehead to Blaine’s shoulder. His breath is hot and damp against Blaine’s skin.

Blaine rests his hand on Kurt’s chest, fingers spread wide, and feels the rapid pounding of Kurt’s heart beneath his palm.

“Blaine,” Kurt breathes out, and the sound of him, raw and craving, is the chord progression Blaine has been searching for forever.

“Please,” he says, but he’s not entirely sure what he’s asking for.

Kurt finally, finally pushes him back onto the bed, and Blaine goes gratefully. He doesn’t know how much longer he could have remained standing. Kurt stretches out on top of him and Blaine bites his lip at the drag of Kurt’s cock against his thigh. He wants to shy away and he wants to grab Kurt’s ass and pull him closer. The sheets are cool against his back and Kurt is so very warm against the rest of him. His mouth is even hotter as he dips low for another kiss and his tongue strokes against Blaine’s in a way that makes his toes curl and his spine arch up for more. Blaine shifts restlessly when Kurt nips at his lower lip before surging back in for another deep, wet kiss and he spreads his thighs almost unconsciously. Kurt slides between his legs and presses close. So close.

Blaine’s mind swims with the possibilities and the implications. He knows there are any number of things the two of them could do tonight, and he also knows that they don’t have to do anything at all. But he wants to. He wants everything. He just doesn’t know how to make Kurt understand that there are some things they haven’t talked about.

All he knows is that Kurt is touching him like no one, no one else ever has. There are hands on his chest, his arms, rubbing firm and tender across his stomach. Kurt squeezes at the thick muscles in his thighs and tongues wetly at the prominent tendon of Blaine’s neck. Kurt touches the backs of his knees like somehow they’re precious too. Blaine gasps, high and needy, when lips close around his nipple, and he groans when a spit-slick palm closes around his cock and pumps slowly, as if he needs any help at all staying hard.

“Kurt,” Blaine whimpers, when Kurt uses his knees to push his thighs apart a little further and starts to slide fingers down behind his balls. He needs Kurt to know, to understand, before anything else happens.

“Mmm?” Kurt nips at his lower lip again and swipes a thumb across a hard, sensitive nipple.

“Kurt, I’m - it’s just, I’ve never -” but Blaine can’t say it. He doesn’t know how. The words stick fast in his throat, mortifying and awful. He’s just a boy, just a silly boy and there’s no way Kurt’s going to want him now. How could he possibly want someone like him? The embarrassment burns hot on his face and Blaine resists the urge to hide behind his hands.

There was a boy, once, years ago, when Blaine still thought that maybe he was meant for someone. He’d been so tentative to touch Blaine, to initiate any sort of physical contact, that the whole affair, such as it was, had been blundering and clumsy. They’d hardly kissed, and he’d never held Blaine’s hand. Whatever intimacy they managed was painfully, horribly awkward and Blaine avoided it as much as possible; he suspected that Jeremiah did the same. He’d splutter whenever Blaine managed to come, and then spit indelicately into his palm or a tissue after. They’d never gone any further than that, and their breakup had been a mutual relief. But Blaine can’t say that the short relationship, if could even be called that, hadn’t affected him profoundly, because it had.

But Kurt just cocks his head, gazing down at Blaine as the embarrassed flush darkens. Blaine waits, he knows what’s coming, and he holds his breath as understanding blooms on Kurt’s beautiful face.

“Oh, Blaine.” He ducks in and presses a warm kiss to Blaine’s throat, right at his pulse, and then to his mouth. Blaine’s mouth parts so easily for Kurt and the warmth slides down his spine as Kurt’s tongue slides along his. “I don’t care. I don’t care about any of that. Just you. I just care about you. I want you.” Kurt finds Blaine’s mouth in another heated, desperate kiss. “So much. God, Blaine. You don’t even know.”

I’ve never wanted anyone else like this, Blaine thinks, but can’t say.

“Blaine, we don’t have to do this. We don’t have to do anything, if that’s what you want. Just tell me what you want.”

Blaine’s body aches at the mere thought of not being touched by Kurt. He wants. He wants those strong, capable hands all over him. He wants mouths and teeth and fingers and everything else. He wants.

“I want you,” is what he says. The words flow out of his lungs and carry loud and truthful into the quiet of the bedroom.

Kurt doesn’t smile, but there’s something in his lust-dark eyes that makes Blaine’s heart beat even faster. His whole body is throbbing with urgency. Kurt ducks down and captures Blaine’s mouth again in an ardent kiss. Blaine thinks he could spend the rest of his life living off of Kurt’s kisses.

“Where’s your lube?” Kurt asks against his lips, and Blaine is so thankful that he doesn’t ask if he’s sure. He’s never been more sure of anything.

“In the drawer.” Blaine bites his lip again, because he knows what he doesn’t have in that drawer, and Kurt’s about to notice.

“You – you don’t have…?” Kurt asks. He’s kneeling up on the bed, still between Blaine’s parted thighs, bottle of lube in one hand and nothing in the other. The muscles in his thighs are tense and his cock is dark and hard against his belly. His lips are swollen and his hair is a mess. He looks ethereal and Blaine cannot believe that this creature wants him.

“No, I – no.”

That’s when Kurt grins down at him, sly and a little dirty. “It’s ok, I’ve got one in my bag.”

Blaine gapes up at him. “You – in your bag, you keep those in your bag?” He feels cold suddenly. He can only imagine how many other men have found themselves utterly and completely besotted with Kurt. He really can’t blame them.

“Well,” Kurt shrugs and his eyes are sparkling. “Only very recently.” He leans down and kisses Blaine again, his tongue surging in deep. He tastes of cream and oranges and Blaine’s own spit. “There’s this one guy I’m kind of hopelessly optimistic about. I didn’t want to be caught unprepared should he finally succumb to my clumsy advances.”

Blaine shivers. Kurt – tall, beautiful, wonderful Kurt – has been carrying a condom in his satchel because of him. The world makes no sense at all. He slides his hands into Kurt’s hair and angles his head for a better kiss. He’s sure the sheets must smell of stale espresso, but Blaine can sense nothing but the heavy heat of Kurt’s body and his own sharp arousal.

“One second,” Kurt murmurs, and moves to get off the bed, but Blaine grabs his wrist.

“We,” he pauses and licks his lips. Kurt is staring at him in confusion. He can’t believe he’s about to say what he is. Every sex-ed class he’s ever had is screaming at him. “We don’t really need that, do we?”

Kurt’s eyes go impossibly dark and Blaine almost wants to take it back, but then Kurt is leaning down and his mouth is on his and so is his body.

***

The first finger is nerve-wracking and Blaine sucks in a breath at the wet slide of it. There’s so much lube he can feel it on his thighs and Kurt is petting his stomach in gentling strokes. But the second is a revelation. His body opens around Kurt’s slowly thrusting fingers in a way he never thought possible. Pleasure is sparking all along his skin, bright and hot, and everything feels too tight, too much. He wants to push down and pull Kurt deeper into him, but he settles for gripping at Kurt’s shoulder and accepting the sweet kisses that Kurt peppers across his face and lips.

The third finger is the entire world opening before him. He moans loud and wanton as those long fingers fuck deep into him, and then deeper – searching and finding. The pleasure of it burns deep in his gut and spreads out all along his limbs. He feels loose and heavy, slick and stretched open. His cock throbs in time with his heart and he just wants – he doesn’t want to wait anymore.

“Kurt,” he moans, the name thick on his tongue, and he tugs at Kurt’s shoulder. “Please.” He doesn’t know what else to say. He’s sweating and it’s too hot in the cool room. His hips are rising and falling with the steady motion of Kurt’s fingers and he can’t think past the rolling waves of pleasure.

“Ok.” Kurt pulls his fingers back and Blaine bites his lip at the loss. He knows it won’t be for long.

Blaine thinks about turning over onto his belly or getting to his hand and knees, but Kurt is grabbing at his thighs and pulling his body into position, spreading him wide. He feels exposed, but Kurt’s hands on him keep him grounded, keep him safe. He knows, just knows, that Kurt would never do anything to hurt him.

“Ok,” Kurt says again and his voice is so much deeper than usual. Blaine digs his nails into Kurt’s shoulders and nods emphatically. He’s so very ready for this.

And then Kurt’s there, pushing against Blaine’s slickened and stretched hole and slipping inside.

Blaine gasps and his head digs back into the pillow. It feels like nothing he’d ever expected. There’s no pain; just the heavy, aching pressure of Kurt fucking into him with shallow thrusts, past the tight rings of muscle, until he can go no further. Blaine takes a long, shivery breath when he feels Kurt pause; he’s all the way inside, and Blaine can feel the soft weight of his balls against his ass. He shifts and the movement inside of him, inside, makes him gasp again. Kurt kisses him and strokes his damp hair back off his forehead.

“You can – you can move. Please, Kurt.” Blaine shifts again, suddenly desperate for more, and this time Kurt gasps. Blaine can only imagine what this must feel like for him.

Kurt is big – hard and throbbing inside of him, but Blaine’s body adjusts, gives way to the slow gentle thrusts until the slide eases and becomes smooth. He must be holding back, and Blaine is grateful for it. Blaine runs his hands down Kurt’s back, feels the shifting of his working muscles, until he can grasp at Kurt’s flexing ass. Kurt groans and dips his head to kiss Blaine. It’s wet and messy – more teeth and panting against each other’s mouths than an actual kiss. It’s perfect.

Blaine feels every thrust, every twist of Kurt’s hips down to his bones and beyond. He can feel the heat of Kurt’s body against his, growing warmer with every moment, and he can hear Kurt’s breaths becoming ragged and desperate. Kurt’s skin is sweat-slick against his and the wet, grasping noise of their bodies moving together is a wonderful kind of obscene.

A strangled groan pulls from his throat when Kurt’s hand slides between their bodies and takes a hold of his cock. Everything is so sensitive and the heat and grip of Kurt’s lube-wet hand makes Blaine’s stomach clench and his toes curl. He was getting close before, just from the drag of Kurt inside of him and the pressure of him fucking up against his prostate, but he’s pushed that much closer by the easy, practiced pumping of his fist.

“Kurt,” he moans again. He wants to tell Kurt, explain to him, what he’s doing to him, how he feels. He want to tell him how every thrust is like thunder and lightning at the same time, how it takes his breath away and fills his heart with something he didn’t even know he was missing. But Kurt’s name is the only word he has left.

Blaine comes with an aching, keening sob, back arching off the bed, when Kurt bumps against his prostate and twists his hand around the head of his cock with impeccable timing. The world narrows to the heavy drag of Kurt inside of him as Blaine spills, white-hot and throbbing in time with his racing heart, over Kurt’s still-moving fist and onto his own belly. The warm splatter of his own come against his skin makes him shake and shiver. It feels like it goes on forever, waves and waves of pleasure wracking through him, making his cock twitch in Kurt’s hand and his ass clench down around Kurt still thrusting inside of him.

The sweat is dripping down his neck and Blaine wants Kurt to come. He wants to feel it, wants to know he made feel Kurt that way. He’s quickly becoming over-sensitive, but that’s its own kind of pleasure too. It sparks too-bright along his nerves as Kurt fucks into him over and over. Every part of him is shivering and his throat is tight with some unnameable emotion.

Kurt’s face is twisted in pleasure and concentration, and Blaine wants to smooth his furrowed brow. He is so utterly gorgeous like this – flushed and panting and wrecked – that it makes Blaine’s belly clench again in want. Kurt must be close, because his thrusts are becoming unsteady and Blaine can feel the muscles in his back and thighs trembling with exertion.

“Kurt,” Blaine says, and purposefully tightens down around Kurt’s cock, impossibly hard inside of him. The choked sob that leaves Kurt’s straining throat is it’s own symphony. “Kurt, please. I want you to.” Blaine slides his hand up Kurt’s trembling back and into his sweat-damp hair, pulls him down into a gasping kiss.

“Blaine,” Kurt grits out against his lips, and then his whole body spasms sharply as he orgasms, wet and hot and obvious inside of Blaine. Blaine shudders at the feel of it, so insanely intimate that his heart skips a beat with the thought that Kurt just came inside of him.

Kurt is shaking, panting harshly against his collarbone where he’s dropped his head. Blaine smoothes his hands up Kurt’s sweat-slick back over and over, gentling him, and he murmurs nonsense into Kurt’s ear until he can feel Kurt’s thundering heart begin to slow. Kurt is still hot and throbbing inside of him and Blaine revels in it. The room smells of sweat and musk and come and boy. Blaine closes his eyes and just breathes.

It takes a long moment where they are just lying against each other, feeling each other breaths and hearts, until Kurt shifts back and slips wetly from Blaine’s body. Blaine bites his lip at the suddenly strange feeling of not being achingly, wonderfully full. Kurt is kissing his cheeks, his neck, and he feels stretched open and sore, but he doesn’t hurt - not in the way he thought he might. He feels like he’s just been allowed to truly feel.

“Blaine,” Kurt murmurs, right up close to his ear and Blaine feels Kurt stroking his hair back. He sounds fond, and adoring, and maybe a little concerned. “Is – are you-” he trails off with a kiss pressed to Blaine’s damp temple.

“I’m perfect,” Blaine says, and he means it. He opens his eyes. Kurt is flushed a lovely shade of pink and his eyes are heavy-lidded and dark as he looks at Blaine. “You are perfect.” And he means that too.

He hadn’t known what this would be like – how could he have possibly known? Blaine has spent a lot of time actively not thinking about sex, but if this is it, if this is what it’s like with Kurt, then he’s going to have to reevaluate his previous mindset.

Kurt huffs a laugh. He shifts onto his side and pulls Blaine’s loose, lax body into his arms. He’s still trembling, fine shivers running up and down his back and gooseflesh follows in the wake of Kurt’s soothing fingers. Muscles he didn’t even know he had are sore. Blaine buries his nose into Kurt’s collarbone and breathes in the scent of him – salt and sweat and the sweet tang of his cologne.

Blaine closes his eyes again, safe and secure in Kurt’s arms, and lets himself just be.