Blaine hadn't even managed to pull out of the parking lot before he found out that Kurt was most definitely a man of his word. He had half a mind to demand that Kurt buckle up for the ten minute drive off campus to his apartment, because while he wanted nothing more than to have his cock down Kurt's throat again he didn't want the other man to go flying through his windshield when he inevitably crashed during his orgasm. But as Kurt's deft fingers tugged the button of his jeans open and released some of the pressure that was making his erection so painful, he knew he didn't have enough focus to tell him to stop while he was trying to remember which direction he was supposed to turn at this stop sign. He wasn't even sure it was a stop sign if he was being honest. It was hard to see anything when he'd only just realized he'd forgotten to turn his headlights on.
He flipped his headlights on as Kurt tugged his zipper down. Something vibrated against his thigh, and a square patch of light lit up the denim stretched over his leg. Somehow he managed to slide his hand into his pocket and pull his phone out while Kurt simultaneously pulled back the waistband on his boxers and let his cock spring out and bump against his waiting lips.
"Fuck," Blaine swore, trying to focus his eyes long enough to see just who the hell was calling him when Kurt was trying to blow him. The words "You Better Be Getting Some Ass" flashed across the screen as it vibrated again and Blaine growled in annoyance. Santana. Of course. And she'd been through his phone again by the looks of it, and changed her name.
"You really are kinky, aren't you?" Kurt whispered eyeing the phone as though he hoped Blaine would answer it. He squeezed Blaine's cock, and starting to roughly jerk him off, before sucking at a spot on Blaine's neck, his breath hot and moist. "God, you taste good."
Blaine moaned in surrender, and let Kurt's mouth trail over his Adam's apple and across his throat as his phone went to voicemail. Santana would be pissed at him for ignoring her call, but, fuck, Kurt's hand was tight and hot around his cock, and his mouth was sucking roughly at his pulse point and all he could think about was what that mouth was going to do to his cock in a few minutes.
"Are you going to blow me or not?" Blaine demanded breathlessly, snapping his hips up to try and quicken the slow pace Kurt's hand was keeping.
Kurt's teeth scraped over the stubble on his throat. "I said while you're driving. We've been sitting at this stop sign for the past five minutes." Kurt pulled back and flashed him a cocky smirk. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Forget how to get home?"
His answer was cut off by Kurt's lips sealing themselves over his own. He groaned around Kurt's tongue as it invaded his mouth, his hips bucking up so hard his foot slipped off the break and the car jerked forward before he remembered he should put his foot back there instead of pressing it into the floor so that he could arch up and fuck himself into Kurt's tight fist. His body jerked again as his phone started to vibrate in his fist.
"You should probably answer that," Kurt murmured in his ear. A hot, wet tongue flicked out and curled around the shell of his ear as he glanced down at the flashing screen again. Santana. God fucking damnit. He was in the middle of a what looked to be a fantastic night and she just had to ruin it.
Kurt's mouth moved back to his neck, sucking intently at the same spot as Blaine answered.
"What?" he snarled into the mouth piece.
The other line crackled a bit and then Santana's voice said, "It's a right on Palmer in case you were wondering."
Blaine pushed his head back against the headrest and gritted his teeth because he could see the self- satisfied smirk on Santana's face all the way across town. God, he hated her. Why had he ever decided to be friends with her?
