Kryptonite
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Kryptonite : Chapter 23


E - Words: 8,206 - Last Updated: Dec 13, 2012
Story: Closed - Chapters: 24/? - Created: Jul 30, 2012 - Updated: Dec 13, 2012
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Author's Notes: Disclaimer: Smut (surprise, surprise)

“Excuse me, Superman?”

The female alto voice interrupted his study of a sketch, done in trademark childish scrawl of pencil and crayon, of himself holding hands with a group of children. The dinner he was attending, and had been made Guest of Honor at, was a charity that used art therapy to help juvenile cancer patients during their treatment. Tonight, artwork that had featured Superman had been made into a small exhibit that had been dedicated to him at the Children’s Museum of Metropolis. It overwhelmed and humbled Blaine to think that he had served as such inspiration to these children. He turned to respond to the voice, it was a middle-aged brunette with kind-looking features. Clutching onto her right hand was presumably her son, Blaine assumed, based on the boy and woman’s matching auburn hair and brown eyes.

 

“Yes, Ma’am?” he acknowledged her with a smile.

 

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but my son missed the photo session earlier this evening, and it would mean the world if you would take a picture with him,” the lady explained.

 

“Of course!” Superman answered brightly.

 

Thank you,” she replied, her tone revealing that if had Blaine refused she would have had a very unhappy little boy on her hands. She tugged on her son’s hand and gently prompted him, “Dylan, what do we say to Superman?”

 

Blaine looked down at Dylan, who seemed to be petrified in the hero’s presence. He grinned warmly down at the boy, who couldn’t have been more than five, trying to convey that there was nothing to be afraid of, yet the boy remained as still as a statue.

 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly for her son’s unresponsiveness. “He’s usually so chatty and…well, I guess he’s just a bit starstruck.”

 

“Starstruck?” Superman repeated with playful incredulity. He addressed Dylan. “Of who, me? That’s crazy!”

 

The mother couldn’t help but snicker slightly as Blaine crouched down so he and Dylan were face-to-face before speaking gently, “Come on Dylan, let’s take a picture!”

 

All the boy was able to do was gulp and nod, but Blaine shifted next to him, laying a large hand on his small shoulder and smiled widely for the lady who was already poised with her camera. She snapped the shot, promptly checking to make sure it turned out okay and thanked him.

 

“It’s my pleasure,” Blaine insisted as he held out his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

 

The woman blinked owlishly at him a few times, taken aback by Superman’s friendly forwardness and natural charm. She clasped her hand with his to shake it and stammered, “It’s…Amanda.”

 

“Well, it was wonderful to meet you, Dylan and Amanda,” Superman told them sincerely.

 

“You too, Superman,” Amanda replied, blushing slightly at Superman’s use of her name. “Thank you again, for the picture and…you know, everything you do.”

 

“Just doing my job,” he told her with a shrug and a wink. Amanda walked away swiftly with Dylan in tow, bashfully realizing that maybe it wasn’t only her son that was starstruck.

 

0-0-0

 

Kurt let out an exhausted sigh as he trudged over the threshold to his apartment. It had been a long day to say the least. After all the excitement of the ceremony, Kurt had also grabbed dinner with Tina at their favorite Thai place. The meal was more enjoyable than he predicted it to be, he was glad that he got Tina alone, seeing as Mike was in LA for a music video shoot and Mercedes was obviously not in attendance. He felt bad that he didn’t spend more one-on-one time with Tina, although quiet in nature, the Asian woman was a lot of fun and unassumingly insightful when she opened up. Even though the day had been a success (the concert was a hit, and Kurt couldn’t help burst out laughing at Blaine’s expression when Katy Perry took the stage this afternoon), the reporter was tired. He put the leftovers from dinner in the fridge (no doubt Blaine would seek them out and scarf them down later), flopped down on the couch and began composing his coverage of the ceremony.

 

Kurt was so deep into ‘writing mode’ that he didn’t to notice the soft rapping on his balcony door. Blaine chuckled to himself at the sight of his boyfriend’s face, furrowed in concentration, from the other side of the glass of the French doors. The hero knocked on the door once again, inhaling deeply and trying not to talk himself out of what he had planned for tonight.

 

It was only when Kurt leaned back to take off his reading glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose for a quick breather before attempting to power through the last paragraphs of his article when he heard someone at the door. He looked up and saw that Blaine was on the balcony.

 

Weird, the door’s unlocked, why didn’t he just let himself in? The reporter pondered to himself as he crossed the living room to open the door.

 

“I’m sorry for the late time, but I do remember promising you an interview, Mr. Lane,” Blaine said.

 

Kurt tilted his head and regarded him with a puzzled look. Why did Blaine wait for Kurt to come let him in? And why was he speaking in that formal tone he uses when he was Superman? He’s acting like we’ve never met bef—Oh. Ooooooh. The reporter couldn’t contain the instantaneous blush that swept his features when he came to the realization that Blaine was initiating roleplay. The prospect disconcerted and thrilled Kurt in equal amounts. He’d always deemed the act too kinky (not to mention incredibly awkward) and had never done it personally, but now that it was Blaine proposing they try it, Kurt reconsidered. He couldn’t deny how exhilarating all that sexual tension had been before Blaine had revealed himself as Superman, and more importantly it was Blaine that was initiating something sexy. Usually he left Kurt to determine the nature and pace of their sex life, and the fact that Blaine had mustered up the courage to suggest something to liven up the foreplay was something Kurt could definitely be down with. By the time Kurt’s eyes had refocused on Blaine, the hero was eyeing him nervously just about ready to drop the charade when Kurt schooled his expression into something that was aloof but still inviting and replied, “No need to apologize, Superman. I know how busy today must have been for you.”

 

“Thank you for understanding,” Superman smiled softly. He motioned to the interior of the apartment. “May I?”

 

“Oh!” Kurt said startling himself a little out of his haze. “Yes, please come in.”

 

The couple entered the apartment. Kurt called over his shoulder “Can I interest you in a glass of wine—provided that you aren’t flying tonight.”

 

“Well, I’m going to be here a while, aren’t I?” Superman replied as Kurt showed him over to the couch. All night if everything goes according to plan, the reporter chimed to himself. “One glass of wine won’t hurt.”

 

“I’ll be right back then,” Kurt informed him, scampering off into the kitchen to fetch the wine.

 

Once the reporter had left his sight, Blaine couldn’t help but bounce on the couch slightly from excitement. He was experiencing a strange mix of relief and thrill at the fact that Kurt had embraced the whole roleplaying thing. His body was thrumming with sexual energy as the minute or two it took for his boyfriend to retrieve the wine and glasses transpired. Kurt returned and Blaine could see that he was just as wired, yet was conditioning himself to stay in character, which for some strange reason only served to turn Blaine on even more.

 

“Thank you,” Blaine told the other man as Kurt took a seat next to him on the couch.

 

“My pleasure,” Kurt replied demurely as he poured the wine. He passed a glass to Blaine, raised his, and proposed, “To you, Superman.”

 

“No,” the Kryptonian disagreed. “Mr. Lane, to you,”  

 

“Please, I wasn’t given the Key to the City today for saving the world on a regular basis,” Kurt pointed out.

 

“Well, maybe not,” Blain ceded, yet insisted “But you strive for truth and justice just like I do, only in a different method, so you’re pretty inspirational in your own right.”

 

His words overwhelmed Kurt with emotion, but the reporter averted his eyes, unsure of how to reply and so very very tempted to end the act and kiss his boyfriend senseless. Instead, he simply clinked his glass with Superman’s and took a very ungentlemanly gulp of Shiraz. Blaine chuckled and did the same, taking a small sip of his wine.

 

“So…um, we should begin the interview,” Kurt began flustered as fumbled for his tape recorder on the coffee table.

 

“I agree,” Superman concurred, setting his glass down. “Ask away, Mr. Lane.”

 

Kurt hit record. “Okay, well to start, what was your general impression of today’s festivities?”

 

“I was floored,” Superman answered instantly. “I was thankful that I had the foresight to prepare something to say because all of the fanfare today rendered me absolutely speechless.”

 

“Speaking of which, in your acceptance speech, you mentioned how receiving the key served as a symbol of acceptance from the planet’s population. Could you expound on what this award means to you?”

 

“Certainly. I don’t like to speak about my personal life too much, but growing up, I constantly felt isolated from my peers with the knowledge that I was an extraterrestrial. Yet, this honor demonstrated to me that my being different wasn’t something I had to be ashamed of anymore, that the place of my birth doesn’t make me any less of an American. Plus, as I mentioned in my address, this award was the ultimate positive reinforcement that I’m doing something right, that I’m successfully fulfilling my destiny.”

 

“Thank you for sharing,” Kurt smiled decorously. “Now I know you’d like to maintain your privacy, Superman, but is it safe to say that you grew and matured like a regular human? You had a childhood and adolescence like the rest of us?”

 

“That I did,” he confirmed. “Just because I’m an alien didn’t mean I was exempt from those awkward teenage years.”

 

“For some reason, I’m having trouble imagining you as an awkward teenager,” Kurt chuckled. It was true, he could never quite picture a younger Blaine even with the few photographs he’d seen, especially since he apparently wore an obscene amount of flannel back in Westerville.

 

“It’s probably for the best,” said Superman. “You’re someone I strive to impress, Mr. Lane, and I’d rather you see me at my best.”

 

The journalist could feel his cheeks burn in reaction to the alluring, suggestive timbre of Superman’s voice. He reeled himself in however, taking another sip of his wine. Kurt didn’t want this to be over just yet, and decided to deflect with a more serious, professional question.

 

“Yes, well, what are your thoughts regarding the rumors you’ll be awarded this year’s Nobel Peace Prize? Many think that today’s accolade clinched the title for you.”

 

The hero shrugged bashfully and dismissed the question with a self-effacing roll of his eyes. “They’re rumors. I try not to focus on things such as that. While I certainly appreciate the acclaim, they’re not the reason I do what I do.”

 

“A smart stance to take if you ask me,” Kurt replied with a nod approval. “In another vein, many scientists have expressed interest in trying to locate Krypton and conducting research about your home planet. How do you feel about that initiative?”

 

He watched Blaine tense guiltily. Kurt didn’t want to ask, he really didn’t, but Sue would definitely notice that something up with her most inexorable reporter if he shied away from asking the tough questions because he didn’t want to hurt his secret boyfriend’s feelings.

 

“Well, I suppose there is much to be learned from Kryptonian society,” he began stoically. “However, I’m wary that scientists’ efforts would be in vain. Krypton, or where it once was, is millions—if not tens of millions—of lightyears away. I’m not sure even the most sophisticated technology would be able to reach it.”

 

“I see,” Kurt responded, his tone carefully neutral. “And would you be open to assisting their efforts? You said that you father was a scientist on Krypton, did he leave you anything that you would allow researchers access to?”

 

“Not that I know of,” Blaine replied cautiously, his distant tone hinting to Kurt that he wasn’t being completely honest. If this was an ordinary interview, the reporter would have ruthlessly pressed for more information, but Kurt chose to exercise discretion in this case. He knew the hero was only omitting intel for his and Earth’s safety. Moreover, he didn’t wish to strain The Planet’s relationship with Superman, especially due to the fact he had spoken with them exclusively since his arrival to Metropolis, nor his own personal one with Blaine. This interview is supposed to be doubling as foreplay, after all.

Kurt opted for asking one more question that he knew had the potential to discomfort Blaine. “Superman, obviously you’ve answered the age-old question ‘Are we alone in the universe?’ with a resounding no,” Blaine chuckled. “Any other life forms we should be aware of?”

 

“I know that they exist, but that’s really all I could tell you. I lack an extensive knowledge of any species that aren’t human or Kryptonian,” came another tight-lipped reply from the hero.

 

Definitely time for a subject change, Kurt concluded to himself. He figured he could coax the rest of what he needed out of Blaine later, it was amazing how an orgasm could make a person more agreeable, and he was getting anxious. The journalist fidgeted nervously on the couch cushions, apprehensive as to how to make the transition to what Kurt wanted to inquire about next.

 

“Well, I um, appreciate your time and cooperation…” he started stiltedly.

 

“Believe me, Mr. Lane, it was my pleasure.”

 

Ugh, there’s that stupid sexy voice again, the reporter cursed internally. Jeez Kurt, why are you worrying about a question you intimately know the answer to? Out with it already!

 

“You…you told Ryan Seacrest that you don’t have much time for a love life,” he stated shyly.

 

Superman locked gazes with him, his eyes alight with intrigue and thinly masked excitement. “Yes?” he prompted huskily, leaning toward Kurt slightly.

 

“Well, I just imagine you must get lonely,” Kurt told him, his voice small and soft, as he drifted, seemingly unconsciously, closer to the hero.

 

“I do,” Superman admitted quietly, his face now merely inches from Kurt’s.

 

“How do you cope with it?” Kurt murmured. “How do you stand the solitude?”

 

“Off the record?” the Kryptonian requested. Kurt nodded his head quickly. “By developing painfully masochistic feelings for high-power journalists.”

 

Kurt’s breath hitched at the admission. Although he knew from an outside perspective, he looked like he had watched one too many romantic comedies and read one too many Danielle Steele novels, but Kurt couldn’t bring himself to care. He was lost in the moment.

 

“I still feel you on my lips, Kurt,” Superman whispered seductively. “Every moment of every day. You have no idea how crazy you make me, like today for instance, when I had to be perfectly professional to you at the press conference. I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked in the sunlight, how luminous you skin appeared, how blue your eyes were. This is wrong, I shouldn’t be d—“

 

The hero was cut off by a breathy sigh of “Superman” and Kurt closing the millimeters of distance between their lips. The kiss was an intoxicating juxtaposition of passion and worship, Kurt’s lips pressed against his insistently, but their movements were slow and unhurried. Blaine cupped his boyfriend’s jaw with his strong firm hand, the touch causing Kurt to melt even more.

 

They continued like that for several minutes, simply kissing passionately and gradually moving closer and closer to each other. Before he knew it, Kurt was wrapped in Superman’s strong arms and straddling his lap, their tongues alternating between lazily dancing and fiercely dueling for dominance.

 

Suddenly, Kurt was gasping for air and the hero was looking up at him with swollen lips and fretful eyes. “We can’t—“

 

He silenced him with a kiss. “We can,” Kurt asserted lowly but heatedly. “No one should be alone, especially not you. You deserve all the love the universe can give.”

 

The pair exchanged an intense gaze, both aware that Kurt’s words weren’t just said as part of their farce, that there was something deeper and more profound being implied. Blaine didn’t reply verbally however, he simply smashed their lips together once again, enthusiastically claiming Kurt’s mouth as he clutched onto his hips. The reporter knew there would be identical sets of fingerprint-shaped bruises on his hips in the morning, but he welcomed the idea of having a reminder of tonight’s lovemaking.

 

Kurt began to rock his hips down in an increasingly frantic rhythm, letting out all sorts of little gasps and sounds at the feel of the friction of his cock aligned with Blaine’s.

 

“I—ooh, baby…” the reporter knew he was babbling, but Kurt was having quite the struggle articulating coherently when the man he loved was thrusting up demandingly against him and untucking his shirt expertly from his pants. “I—I need…

 

“What?” Blaine prodded in a gravelly tone that never failed to cover every inch of his skin with goosebumps. He paused his sucking on Kurt’s neck to look into his eyes with a probing smolder. “What do you need? Just tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

 

Kurt took a moment to collect his wits. He usually felt at the very least somewhat self-conscious about disclosing one of his fantasies, but the journalist was too delirious with desire for reticence.

 

“I want you to take me up against the wall,” he panted.

 

Blaine seemed to take to the idea immediately, groaning as soon as Kurt had finished speaking and squeezing his hips. His blatant zeal for the idea both calmed Kurt and excited him at the same time. He knew that his boyfriend was always exceedingly cautious when it came to his enhanced strength, but Kurt couldn’t resist fantasizing about what it would be like to be pinned to the wall by Blaine’s bulging biceps, well-muscled but still so deceptively small on account of just how much weight those arms could truly lift. He thought back to the night when Superman had rescued him, how he’d caught the helicopter and himself without so much as breaking a sweat. And since they’d been experimenting with Blaine’s powers in the bedroom lately…

 

“Hold on,” Superman rasped into Kurt’s ear. The reporter acquiesced, locking his arms around Blaine’s neck and wrapping his legs securely around his torso when the hero stood up. He continued to kiss Kurt ardently, cupping his ass as walked them to the bedroom, pressing Kurt’s back into the wall across from his bed. The journalist moaned at the contact and resumed canting his pelvis against Blaine’s with a reckless urgency.

 

“Eager, are we now baby?” Superman queried smugly.

 

“Well, I would like to be naked sometime before dawn,” Kurt quipped in reply.

 

“I think we can make that happen,” Blaine told him, his voice filled with an auspicious mischief.

 

“We better,” Kurt countered devilishly, biting down on the juncture between Superman’s neck and shoulder, eliciting a strangled cry of pleasure from the Kryptonian. Emboldened but not satisfied, Kurt unwound his arms from his neck and unbuttoned his shirt at a tortuously slow speed, Blaine watching with his every move with dark lustful eyes, staring at Kurt predatorily as he popped each button from its hole one by one.

 

Kurt let his arms fall as he shrugged off his shirt, letting the fabric flutter to the ground. Immediately, Blaine hoisted him higher against the wall and attacked his chest with kisses, licks, and bites. His eyes rolled back in his head, he let out a low keen and dug his fingertips into his lover’s hair, fighting the copious amount of product it held to do so.

 

“You’re flawless,” Superman whispered reverently against the creamy skin of Kurt’s flat abdomen.

 

“Ugh,” the other man grunted in return. “Get naked.”

 

The hero chuckled lowly, his form momentarily shifting into a blur, moving so quickly that Kurt remained suspended in mid-air against the wall until Blaine’s hands returned to his hips, his costume and undershorts a heap on the floor just a split-second later.

 

“Mmm, that was fast,” the reporter remarked jauntily.

 

“It was,” Superman initially agreed. He shifted into a blur once again and Kurt suddenly felt a rush of air, deducing the Superman had stripped off the rest of his clothing. A quick glance down at his lower half confirmed it and when he looked back at Blaine’s face (his gaze may have lingered for a moment or two on the sight of his erection lined up with Superman’s own thick, flushed cock), the Kryptonian was wearing a haughty smirk. “But don’t let that fool you, Mr. Lane. I may be speedy, but I also have a thousand times the stamina that an average man has,” he placed his lips millimeters from Kurt’s ear and murmured, “which means I can fuck you, quite literally, all night long.”

 

Although he knew that probably wasn’t going to happen, Kurt couldn’t help but let out a low groan of his own at the prospect.  Deciding to fight fire with fire, he leaned in close to Blaine and whispered in his ear just as the hero had done to him, “Then what are you waiting for, Superman?”

 

Blaine answered with a playful growl before capturing his mouth in a searing kiss, the hero’s tongue plundering his mouth, and Kurt meeting him just as eagerly. Once more, he felt himself hover unsupported and when Blaine returned, he noticed that the hero was only holding him up with a single steady hand. Kurt hooked his legs back around Blaine instinctively, his eyes pulled to sight of the Kryptonian’s flexed arm before he let out a jolt and a gasp. Blaine’s other hand had dipped between Kurt’s cheeks, a well-oiled finger traced down the cleft before he felt the digit circle his rim temptingly.

 

“Do-Don’t tease me,” Kurt stuttered out, clasping onto his shoulders. Blaine obliged him, only skirting his fingertip twice more around his opening before pushing in at a deliberate yet unyielding pace. Kurt exhaled harshly through his nose at the penetration, yet kept from tensing up so his lover could begin to pump his finger in and out. Blaine must have noticed the other man’s struggle, so he began to kiss Kurt again, albeit sloppily, before he inserted a second and third finger to stretch the reporter.

 

Kurt couldn’t help the swell of exhilaration that twisted his gut when he felt Blaine extract his fingers from inside of him and lined his cock (already sporting a condom and lubed up) with this entrance. He couldn’t wait to feel Blaine pushing into him from the different angle, to fill him in a new and novel way. Blaine entered him slowly, his shaft sliding in gradually, inch by inch until he was completely enveloped in Kurt’s tight, hot channel. The pair exchanged a fiery smolder, both men sharing dark hooded gazes as they adjusted to the feel of each other’s bodies. Yet after a few moments, Kurt signaled to him he was ready by clamping down on the hero’s length, and then it seemed that his restraint shattered. He began to thrust into Kurt without abandon, each of snap of his hips punctuated with a staccato grunt from the Kryptonian. If it wasn’t for all the persistent, tactile reminders—Blaine’s borderline bruising grip, his hipbones roughly colliding with the flesh of his ass, not to mention his hot, obscenely large cock practically splitting him in half in the best way possible—Kurt would have sworn he was dreaming. He had never seen his boyfriend act so carnally, so uninhibited before. When they made love in the past, sure there had been dirty talk and teasing, but Blaine was always so careful, even in the throes of passion he would check to make sure Kurt was okay. But tonight it seemed that Blaine had thrown caution to the wind, and Kurt was very much alright with that.

 

“Oh fuck,” Kurt whimpered as his eyes rolled back in his head and his head dropped back against the wall. The force of Blaine’s thrusts was actually causing his entire body to slide along the wall. For once Kurt was thankful for the fact he was sweating, or else the friction would have been chafing and uncomfortable. “This is so hot.”

 

“Yeah?” Blaine husked.

 

Yeah,” he echoed in reply.

 

“What about this?” the hero asked as he widened his stance and shuffled closer, thereby enabling himself to penetrate Kurt more directly and with greater fluidity. “How’s that for you, baby?”

 

NNNNGH!” Kurt moaned at shamelessly loud volume. The shift in position caused Blaine to feel impossibly larger inside of him and allowed him to penetrate so much deeper. “So good baby, so fucking good…”

 

“Mmmm, good,” Blaine purred. “I love making you feel good.”

 

At that moment, Kurt was compelled to lift his head to look at Blaine, immediately glad that he did. The hero was staring at him with dim, piercing eyes just as he had before and his olive skin seemed to glisten with a thin sheen of sweat as he continued to piston his hips at a rapid speed. The limited illumination, coming only from the doorway to the living room and the streetlamp in the alley outside Kurt’s bedroom window, highlighted Blaine’s breathtaking bone structure. Although the gel was starting to give way at the edges, his hair was still slicked back, enhancing his already devastatingly handsome looks. If Kurt didn’t know any better, he would have guessed the man making love to him was a movie star from the forties rather than an extraterrestrial superhero.

 

“You-you’re so…” Kurt struggled for the breath and brain power to speak, “…so strong.”

 

“That’s right,” Blaine confirmed, still driving himself into Kurt relentlessly. “Could hold you and fuck you like this ‘til the fucking sun comes up.”

 

Kurt answered with a breathy keen as he lost himself in Blaine’s naughty promises and the push-pull of his lover’s cock pounding his hole. “Fuck, Blaine—so close…”

 

“So am I, shit,” the hero panted in reply, his voice betraying the slightest hint of exertion for the first time. “You want to come, babe?”

 

Fuck yes,” he replied in a drawn out, wanton moan.

 

“I’ve got you,” Blaine coaxed Kurt, supporting with one hand once again so he could stroke the other man to completion. “That’s it…come on, just let go Kurt…”

 

The reporter climaxed with an embarrassingly high cry, his release spurting into Blaine’s hand and across his chiseled chest. He clung to his boyfriend desperately, his chin tucked into his chest as he rode the seemingly never ending waves of his orgasm while Blaine continued to thrust into him vigorously, the hero’s labored breathing indicating he was on the brink of coming as well. Summoning a final bout of energy, Kurt bore down on Blaine’s cock and less than a minute later could feel the hero’s respective release fill the condom along with his long, low groan of satisfaction.

 

He looked up blearily and found Blaine gazing at him once again, his eyes softer than they were during the heat of the moment.

 

“You’re incredible,” the Kryptonian whispered tenderly. He kissed him lightly. “I love you so much.”

 

“Love you too,” he mumbled. Kurt couldn’t help but wonder where the wild animal from a few minutes ago had gone, though he certainly didn’t mind his caring, doting boyfriend in his place. Especially when he was fairly sure that his bones had been liquefied and that Blaine was the only thing keeping him upright.

 

The room swayed and he winced as Blaine slipped out of him and carried him the short distance over to the bed.

 

“Wake me up in twenty,” Kurt mumbled, stifling a yawn. “Gotta finish m’article.”

 

“I will, Sweetie,” Blaine assured him gently as he deposited him onto the bed.

 

Kurt cursed how orgasms always took the wind out of him, but he was unable to resist the comfort of his bed that Blaine was currently tucking him into.

 

The last thing Kurt registered before drifting off was a kiss pressed into the damp skin of his forehead.

 

0-0-0

 

 Kurt was roused from his slumber by kisses as well.

 

“Babe, time to wake up,” he heard Blaine coo into his ear as the Kryptonian pressed his lips to various spots on his face.

 

Kurt blinked a few times and was greeted with the sight of Blaine, his natural mess of curls no longer restricted atop his head, dressed in borrowed yoga pants and a t-shirt.  He was so drastically different from the man he’d encountered less than an hour before, and it never ceased to stun Kurt just how quickly Blaine could switch gears from sexy, dominant Superman who fucked him into walls to sweet, dorky Blaine who woke him up with kisses and cuddles.

 

“Come on, my intrepid reporter,” Blaine continued to cajole Kurt with caresses. “Gotta finish that front-page article of yours.”

 

“Mmm,” he hummed back, “and by ‘front-page article’ you mean ‘Superman propaganda’, am I correct?”

 

 “Well, I hear he’s good in bed at least,” he offered with a cheeky grin.

 

“That he is,” Kurt agreed. He pressed a quick kiss to Blaine’s lips. “How long was I out?”

 

“Like half an hour,” Blaine told him, countering the resulting glare from Kurt with an explanation, “Hey, you still have a couple hours before your deadline, okay? Don’t look at me like that for letting you sleep an extra ten minutes.”

 

Kurt dismissed the comment with a good-natured roll of his eyes. “Can you get me my—“ He wasn’t able to finish his request however, since Blaine had vanished and reappeared with his laptop and his tape recorder in a flash.  “—thank you.”

 

“Sure thing,” he replied with a wink and one last peck on the cheek. “I’ll let you work.”

 

Kurt did just that, incorporating his interview with Superman into what he had written earlier and hammering out a conclusion. He could hear the TV on in the other room, leading him to assume that Blaine had already finished his respective writing assignment. Kurt could not fathom how Blaine found the time to keep his full-time job along with his side-career of being a superhero (or maybe it was reverse? The superhero thing was more of his full-time job and he did the journalism thing on the side) but “Clark Kent” had yet to turn in an article late since he started at The Planet.

 

Forty-five minutes later, Kurt pulled on some sweats and joined his boyfriend in the living room, engrossed in an episode of Tabitha’s Salon Takeover and devouring the Thai leftovers as predicted. 

 

“I see you found the Panaeng,” he remarked as he made his way over the couch, laptop in hand.

 

“Hey you,” Blaine acknowledged him around a mouthful of pork. “Yeah, I did.” He swallowed and motioned to the TV. “This is a repeat, it’s the one with the passive-aggressive lesbian and the doggy hair.”

 

“Well, I hate to be a distraction, but can you proofread this for me? I’m exhausted.”

 

“’Course,” Blaine nodded and gestured for Kurt to pass him his MacBook as he set his food on the coffee table.

 

Kurt pretended to watch the show playing on the screen as Blaine looked over his work, but found his boyfriend much more interesting than a trashy salon’s transformation. He couldn’t get over how right this all felt, Blaine wearing his clothes, eating his leftovers, watching TV in his living room, helping Kurt with his writing…his heart swelled with love for the man sitting next to him. Kurt had always been so guarded, so wary to let others into his life after his mother had died, always on some level worried they’d leave or hurt him if he opened up and allowed himself to be weak. But now, he wanted to show Blaine all of his flaws, to let him see him at his most vulnerable, since maybe without knowing it, Blaine was doing the same for him. The reporter was fairly sure that next to no one had ever seen Superman in sweats chowing down  and watching reality TV. It was in that moment that he realized how much he meant to Blaine, how much Blaine meant to him and…he wanted Blaine to live with him.

 

No that’s absurd, a voice in his head immediately piped up. You’ve barely been dating for three months and only met him two months prior to that…and yet—

 

“This is really good, babe,” Blaine’s voice pulled Kurt out of his own thoughts. “Though I am a little biased.”

 

Kurt let out a short laugh, “Well, I appreciate the compliment nonetheless. Thank you.”

 

“Is there anything else you need from me?” he asked reclaiming the plate of food in front of him. Kurt watched him stare at it for a moment, noticing how the air between Blaine and the dish seemed to simmer ever-so-slightly, denoting that he was using his heat vision to reheat the food.

 

“No, I think everything’s good, although I am expecting a payoff from you for not writing in detail about your fangirling over Katy Perry this afternoon,” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

 

Blaine scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault I know a goddess when I see one.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Kurt mock-agreed with him. “You would totally reconsider breasts for her, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Well, only because hers are so nice,” he joked in return.

 

“I love you,” Kurt told him earnestly.

 

“Hmmm, you too,” he replied, mouth full of food, but genuine nonetheless.

 

They slipped back into silence and as the quiet lingered on, Kurt became increasingly tempted to blurt out his (utterly ridiculous) “move in with me” notion, so he shook himself and turned back to his laptop.

 

“I should probably send this to Sue,” he began, focusing on the computer screen perhaps a tad too intently. “She’ll start cyber-harassing me if I don’t.”

 

“’Kay,” Blaine responded casually, oblivious to the change in his boyfriend, and happy to go on eating his Panaeng while watching TV. “You should be good to go, I fixed the few typos I found.”

 

“Thanks honey,” Kurt chirped, perhaps a tad too brightly, as he opened a new e-mail to Sue. He added conversationally. “So I didn’t get a chance to ask you how the benefit dinner went.”

 

“It was nice, although it felt kind of awkward to be wearing spandex while everyone around you is in tuxedos and evening gowns,” Blaine replied.

 

“I think that’s actually my worst nightmare,” the reporter joked as he typed a quick message and attached his article.

 

Blaine laughed. “I wish you could have been there too, dressed to the nines in Prada or Armani, of course.”

 

“Of course,” Kurt reaffirmed playfully, clicking send.

 

“But fashion aside, it was a really humbling evening. Those kids over at Metropolis General…you spend some time with them and everything is put into perspective. All the art was centered around how I was able to inspire them, but they have no idea that they’re so much stronger than I could ever be.”

 

Kurt sent him a supportive, adoring smile, but didn’t dare open his mouth. If he did, he was one hundred percent sure he’d mortify himself and Blaine by blurting out something along the lines of YOU’RE PREFECT AND I WANT TO LOCK YOU IN MY APARTMENT FOREVER. The two shared a fond look before returning to their respective activities coexisting in a companionable silence; Blaine watching the rest of episode intently despite its rerun status and Kurt half-heartedly trying to answer e-mails to distract himself. When it was over, Blaine clicked off the TV and regarded Kurt with a hopeful expression. “Bed?”

 

“Mmm, yeah,” he complied, wrapping up the e-mail he was answering and closing his laptop.

 

After completing their respective bedtime routines, they settled under the covers together. Kurt had to repress the flutter in his stomach knowing that if he and Blaine did live together, this could be an every-night sort of thing.

 

“Night.”

 

“Night.”

 

They leaned in, their lips meeting chastely, but after a few moments it became clear that neither man was quite ready to call it a night yet. Their mouths moved together languidly, Blaine cradling Kurt’s jaw with his hand and Kurt fisting his hand in the fabric of Blaine’s shirt. The Kryptonian shifted his body closer, and Kurt felt the unmistakable brush of Blaine’s erection against his thigh as he did so.

 

“Something tells me you’re not as sleepy as you led me to believe, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt murmured enticingly, his lips brushing against his boyfriend’s as he spoke.

 

“Sorry, we can just—“

 

“Don’t apologize,” Kurt stopped him and cupped his crotch. “I didn’t want to go to bed yet either.”

 

“Well, I’m obviously up for Round Two if you are,” he rumbled.

 

Kurt grinned at him impishly and pulled Blaine on top of him. They continued the thorough exploration of the other’s mouths as Blaine snuck his hand between their bodies to palm and squeeze Kurt through his pants to arouse him fully. 

 

“So what do you want to do?” Kurt sighed, breaking away to take a breath. “Honestly, I’m probably too sore to—“

 

“I could bottom,” Blaine interjected, albeit timidly.

 

Kurt fixed his gaze on his boyfriend, a bit staggered by his proposition. Blaine hadn’t bottomed since their first time, and yeah, there had been that night a couple weeks ago where they had fingered each other to orgasm, but otherwise the hero had topped exclusively.

 

“Yeah?” the reporter questioned, his voice surprised but kind.

 

“Yeah,” Blaine confirmed, burying his face in his boyfriend’s neck and confessing against the sensitive skin there, “I know you like when I top—“

 

“I like you,” Kurt amended.

 

“—but I wanna ride you.”

 

A moan ripped from Kurt’s throat and his hips bucked up against the hero’s thigh.

 

“I could go for that,” Kurt agreed with his trademark nonchalance. He slithered out from under Blaine. “You know, you really do have a magnificent ass. Everybody thinks so.”

 

Blaine quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “Do they?”

 

“Yes. If I have to hear Missy Gunderson at work yammer on about ‘Superman’s cute little tush’ one more time, I swear I—“

 

“Hey,” Blaine interrupted, knowing all too well where this was going. He kept his voice playful, but reminded him, “You’re the only one getting a piece of my tush, no matter how cute and little Missy Gunderson thinks it is.”

 

 “You’re right,” Kurt relented. “Now on your stomach. It’s time I’ve given that tush of yours some long overdue attention.”

 

 Blaine obeyed without hesitation, stripping off his shirt and pants before he flipped over. Kurt raised himself up on his knees and straddled Blaine’s calves, pausing to take a good, hard (ugh, really Kurt? Don’t you remember anything that Carrie Bradshaw taught you? No punning in the nude) look at the muscled planes of his lover’s back, his line of sight dropping to those two perfect globes, and further down his thick, sturdy legs dusted with wiry, undeniably masculine hair. If there really was anyone up above—God, Elvis, Coco Chanel—Kurt thanked them for sending him a man who had a body that looked like it had been carved out of marble.

 

The reporter covered Blaine’s body with his own, his throbbing cock lined up with the crack of Blaine’s ass and began to mouth at the base of his neck while undulating his hips teasingly, which in turn elicited a throaty groan of approval from the man below him. Kurt continued to grind himself between Blaine’s cheeks and could have easily and happily gotten off just like that, but the promise of the hero on top of him, working himself up and down on his cock was too good to pass up.

 

Thus, Kurt began to trail his lips downward, kissing the notches of Blaine’s spine, his hands massaging and rubbing the muscles flanking the bone on either side of his back before he reached his destination. He took a moment to gaze at Blaine’s backside again before nibbling on one of the mounds of flesh, rather astounded that it had taken so long for him to fully take advantage of his boyfriend’s oh-so-biteable ass. The action spurred another contented sound from Blaine, this one higher and needier.  Kurt granted him his nonverbal plea and pulled his cheeks apart to reveal his small, tantalizing hole. He leaned closer and—

 

Kurt!” Blaine cried in reaction to the reporter swiping his tongue over his most sensitive spot. “That’s…hmm—fuck, baby…please don’t stop…”

 

He further worshipped Blaine with his tongue, pushing the muscle inside him a minute later, needing to taste his lover before slipping a finger in as well. Blaine let out a high keen, and when Kurt retracted his tongue, the hero was one step ahead, shoving the bottle of lube into the other man’s hands.

 

“Who’s eager now?” Kurt inquired complacently.

 

The Kryptonian grunted and demanded shamelessly, “Shut up and finger me.”

 

“Bossy, too,” he chided with a laugh. It comforted him to know that he could take his boyfriend apart in the same way that Blaine could to him. Not that he was complaining about Blaine’s ability to literally make him pass out from pleasure, but they were supposed to be partners, and it reassured Kurt to see that he could reduce Blaine to a quivering wanton mess of man as well.

 

Kurt removed his finger from Blaine temporarily to coat more digits, and re-entered the hero with two slick fingers. He proceeded to stretch the hero thoroughly, pausing briefly to inform Blaine that the pillow he was clutching was from Bloomingdale’s and if he tore it to shreds he would be buying him the exact one hundred and sixty-five dollar replacement, to which Blaine replied “Whatever Kurt” and squeezed around the three fingers inside him impatiently. By the time he was properly stretched, both men were frenzied with lust, and scrambled to rearrange themselves for the main event. Kurt settled on his back, knees bent and feet planted on the bed, hands braced on Blaine’s hips as the he hovered above him. He snatched the lube off the sheets once more, squirted a generous dollop into his hand, and took hold of Kurt’s cock, stroking him a handful of times with sharp tugs, then positioning himself.

 

 

Kurt choked on his own breath at the feel of Blaine lowering himself onto Kurt’s member, the walls of his tight ass gripping him snugly once he was completely sheathed, and his buttocks resting flush with his hips. The reporter’s eyes squeezed shut at the sensation and he took a moment to adjust to feel of his boyfriend surrounding—and very nearly overwhelming—him. When his lids fluttered open, he could see Blaine looking down at him, his hazel eyes dilated to a dark onyx, his full lips parted in an alluring pout, his rippled abdomen taut with tension and barely contained restraint, his massive cock red and leaking. As much as he didn’t want to, he couldn’t keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, staggered by the sight before him.

 

“Babe,” Blaine grunted, shifting slightly in Kurt’s lap, the movement sending minute sparks of pleasure from his cock all throughout his body, a promise of what was to come (It may be against the rules, but that was a good one Hummel). “Please tell me I can move.”

 

He managed to make eye contact with Blaine and nodded. “Nnngh—go.”

 

The hero immediately began to move as soon as he received the go ahead. Kurt’s hands, which had been holding his hips, dug into the skin there as Blaine lifted and dropped himself on the reporter’s dick, the hero wearing a debauched expression as he steadily rode Kurt. Their pace started out as a leisurely one, each man savoring the feel of the other, enjoying the intimate friction their bodies were creating. The slowness was short-lived however when Blaine let his hands rest on Kurt’s pecs and transitioned into full on bouncing on Kurt’s shaft with twice the agility and ease of an average man.

 

“Oh my God,” Kurt ground out. “You…you’re—you’re amazing.”

 

“Fuck…you are,” Blaine panted in return, not faltering for a second. “You feel so big inside me…feel so full—“

 

“Mmmm, love you riding me…so…so sexy,” Kurt babbled. Why on earth has it taken us this long to do this?

 

“Come on, harder,” Blaine pleaded. The reporter had never heard his voice so wrecked. “Give it to me Kurt, fuck my ass.

 

Like I could even imagine trying to resist a plea like that. It took him a second of fumbling to match his rhythm, but soon Kurt was bucking up, meeting Blaine every time he sank down on his cock. Their coital conversation lapsed into needy noises and half-formed attempts at speech, dominated by the sound of their bodies meeting with the unmistakable slap of skin-on-skin. Kurt marveled to himself as he watched his lover wholeheartedly impale himself on his member, he only used to be able to call his sex life vanilla and sporadic at best, but ever since Blaine had entered his life, he could say—

 

Ah!” Kurt shouted. Blaine had added a hip swivel-thingy in addition to his bouncing on the other man’s length.

 

The Kryptonian simply grinned down at him wolfishly and repeated the movement at a deliciously punishing speed. He removed his hands Kurt’s chest to run his fingers through his hair (the reporter suspected it was to keep himself from pressing down and crushing Kurt’s ribcage), the action giving him a spectacular view of Blaine’s impeccable arms, and that was it for him. Kurt cried out as he felt his cock pulse and twitch inside of Blaine’s stiflingly hot ass as he peaked, his thrusts stilling as his orgasm consumed him. Fortunately, Kurt retained enough of his wits to think to get Blaine off as well. His hand closed around the hero’s dick, frantically pumping his large shaft until he heard the other man shout out in orgasmic bliss and felt Blaine’s release spurt out onto his stomach in pearly ropes.

 

Once both of their climaxes had ebbed away, Blaine fell forward, catching himself on his palms and hovering above Kurt to claim his lips in a possessive, passionate liplock. His gaze dropped down to Kurt’s abdomen where he witnessed the streaks of come cooling on the overheated, flushed skin of his torso.

 

“I got you all messy,” he remarked in a whisper.

 

“S’fine,” Kurt murmured, fairly certain that Blaine had actually fucked his brains out.

 

Despite his dismissal, Kurt felt a damp cloth being dragged along his skin a split-second later, then the bed dip and Blaine snuggle up to him a little after that. He was just about to drift into a very contented slumber when Blaine spoke.

 

“Can we have this much sex every night?”

 

Kurt snorted. “Sure, you stop that saving the world thing you do all the time and I’ll quit my job.”

 

“Hm, deal.”

He chuckled quietly and finally allowed the exhaustion weighing on his eyelids to wash over him. He knew Blaine would be gone within the hour, but even so, he relished the ability to sleep in the solid protection of his boyfriend’s arms.


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