Blaine sits in his car, seat pushed as far as it will go. He's got the radio playing softly, but the engine turned off. The day is cool, cloudly – it's going to rain soon. He cracks his windows, adjusting them slightly.

He's parked in a corner of one of the overflow parking lots of one of the large parks. It's the end of the season, the middle of a week day, and the park is basically deserted.

The parking lot, however, is teeming with life. Each small section of the parking lot is divided by a stand of trees and bushes. Each small section of the parking lot has exactly one car parked in it, over out of the way, unobtrusive except for the fact that there's clearly no reason to be parked there.



He leans his head back on the headrest and hums along with the music.

In his rear-view mirror, he can see a car pull into the space behind his – nose toward the trees. It's a respectable distance away. From the back, he thinks the driver is a woman. She turns her car off, reclines her seat, but leaves her foot on the brake.

Must be new here,he thinks. She's going burn up her battery with those brakelights.

He's aware of several cars slowly driving past, circling, assessing. He continues to watch the wind blowng through the cornfield in front of him.

A car slows, pulls into their little section and swing in next to his. He glances at the driver, and shakes his head slightly.

The car back out and slowly drives on.

He checks his watch and sighs. Well, maybe not today.

A car parks in the area beyond the trees, just barely visible to him above the knoll separating the lots. But no one gets out of it.

He can see, in his mirrors, a car has pulled in next to the car behind him. A few seconds pass, then then driver quickly gets out of his car, and into hers. The two figures sit still for a few moments, then the man awkwardly clambers to the back seat, slouching low.

The woman turns to face the backseat, straddling the console in the center. A pause, in which Blaine can't quite see what's happening, then she begins to slow work herself up and down, balanced with her knees on either front seat.

He closes his eyes with a hot shudder when he realizes she's fucking herself on her gear shift.

She grips both headrests with her hands, rocking deeper.

Blaine thinks she looks like she's definitely enjoying herself – the guy in the backseat must be jerking off already – starts to giggle when he worries whether she's set the parking brake – a giggle that is quickly choked off when he realizes the woman is leaning forward and is staring at him in his rearview mirror. Their eyes lock and she smiles slowly, almost predatory, and fucks with longer strokes.

Blaine's suddenly hot all over, skin tingling, aware. He can't look away. He's aware of the slight tightness of his shirt where his shoulders are too broad for it, the feel of his socks on the tops of his feet, the brush at his collar where his hair has gotten long and tickles his neck.

He licks his lower lip slowly, enjoying the slide of his tongue across it, bites it gently, imagining lips and teeth other than his own.

It's not that he wants her – he's not on her team, actually. It's the sex. It's forbidden and raunchy and more than a little bit dangerous, picking up strangers in a parking lot – and he finds it incredibly hot. He shifts in his seat, rocking his hips back, to ease the tightness in his pants.

She's still watching him watch her, and she's enjoying it. Blaine's hand strays to his zipper. The thought of someone – anyone – fucking near him is usually enough of a fantasy to get him off. The sight of someone actually do it is incredibly hot, and he's not sure he's going to last anyway. The sight of someone actually do it, while watching him watch her – and somewhere in that car, there's a guy with his cock in his hands, fast and frantically sliding his hands over it, slick with spit and sweat and pre-come and he's probably swearing and the sounds of it will be obscene and so fucking hot--

Blaine's barely noticed that a car has pulled in beside his. He only notices when his passenger door opens, and a young man hurriedly sits in the seat next to him. He tears his eyes away from the woman to look him over.

He's tall, long legged and slender. His hair is reddish gold and currently tousled and there's color burning in his cheeks. His mouth is full, almost too wide, his lips already reddened – Blaine imagines he was chewing them lightly as he drove here.

He's watching Blaine closely, blue-green eyes raking over Blaine's body, widening slightly when he see the bulge of Blaine's erection straining against his pants. He smiles slyly.

Blaine's just reaching for the young man's zipper, licking his lips when the man pushes him back.

“No,” he says, his voice rough, “You first.”

A bit out of the usual, but Blaine's not going to complain. He leans back as the young man reaches, lifts his hips and shimmies slightly so his jeans can slide down a bit – he's found zippers to be hazardous to one's....health – stops as his erection pops through the fly of his boxers – usually he wears briefs, but knows that boxers are far easier to navigate in these situations. He gasps as the man goes down on him, all the way down, humming and sliding his tongue and Blaine's head slams back into the headrest as his body arches up into the man's mouth.

It's rough, and hard and fast. Blaine's already so ready, so hard it's almost painful and he hisses as the stranger slides his teeth lightly down.

Blaine's dimly aware of the other car, the first car he noticed, right in his line of vision, it's windows beginning to fog. From it, there's a rhythmic thumping coming from it, rocking it slightly, and loud, obscene grunts. A hand slaps against the glass, and rubs frantically to clear away the condensation.

Oh god, he thinks. They're watching me.

The young man slids his hand into Blaine's jeans, delicately, tracing his fingers over what he can reach of Blaine's thighs, his balls, his ass – and that's all it takes.

Blaine's vision whites out, his body arches, he's loud and cursing and fuck if this isn't one of the best fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuuck.

He groans, body slumping in his seat. He raises a shaking hand to run it through his curls, gasping.

He reaches over for the young man, ready to reciprocate, when the man shakes his head, wrinkling his nose slightly.

“Not today.” He's licking what's left of Blaine's cum off his red lips and Blaine fights the urge to kiss him, to lick those lips himself.

“What do I owe you?” The man smiles, almost a smirk.

Blaine clears his throat, “That's not usually how...”

The man shakes his head. “No. What do I owe you?”

Blaine grins wolfishly. “How much do you have?”

The man shifts his hips, wincing slightly, and takes his wallet out.

“Ten dollars.”

“Not enough,” Blaine shakes his head, watching the man intently. “How about you just take me to dinner?”

The man smiles, surprised, and looks like he's about to nod his head, when his face suddenly becomes serious, his eyes narrowing.

“Blaine Anderson, you know we are having teriyaki salmon tonight, and I spent all morning perfecting the marinade and I know you don't like fish, but it's good for you and I am not wasting---”

Blaine throws his head back and laughs loudly. “God, I love you.”

Kurt abruptly ends his tirade, smiling fondly. “I love you, too.”

“Last one home has to make the rice?”

“Last one home has to take the garbage out.”

“Ewwwww.” Blaine wrinkles his nose. “Bet I beat you there.”

“Fine. Then, last one home has to take the garbage out, but last one home gets to top tonight.”

“Well, now, that is fair.” Blaine laughs again.

“No fair just stalling here, either. We both have to leave at the same time.”

Blaine leans over and kisses Kurt, breathing him in. “God, you're amazing.”

Kurt smiles, “See you at home. Husband.”

“Husband," Blaine grins. "It's been a month, and I don't ever want to get used to the sound of that,” and kisses him again.