The heat is stifling, overwhelming in its intensity. It's almost as bad as the summer heat in Missouri. It could, perhaps, be lessened if they disentangled their nearly naked limbs and parted lips, but that simply isn't an option at this point. Because Blaine Anderson needs Kurt Hummel's kisses more than he needs to inhale a single, cooling breath into his lungs. He needs Kurt's hands dusting against his skin, trailing through the sweat beading along his back, cupping his cheek and dragging his blunt fingernails down his neck to pull a sweet sigh from his parted lips.
"Do you want to?" Kurt breathes against his sweaty skin while one of his fingers trails down to dance between the twin dimples at the base of Blaine's spine.
"Please," Blaine whimpers, like a broken prayer, as he shuffles impossibly closer on the tiny, twin-sized bed in his room. "Please."
"Shh," Kurt whispers, slipping his hand back up to tangle in Blaine's hair, still slightly sticky with the remnants of gel. "I've got you."
And he does. Kurt has always been there to catch Blaine when he feels like he's falling. He's been there so long that Blaine, to this day, has a hard time remembering what his life had been like before. Somehow, in the span of nearly two years of knowing each other, their souls had become quite firmly intertwined. Two months from now, they'll be in college in New York and Blaine is absolutely, one hundred percent positive that they'll still be just as devoted to each other.
They'll still have this: the insatiable need to be one. Blaine never thought he'd consider himself insatiable, but he is. After the first time he'd felt pleasure at Kurt's hands, he knew there'd be no going back or around it.
They could, however, go forward.
Sometimes, Blaine feels like he's the one keeping them from doing just that.
As Kurt slides away to peel off his boxer briefs, Blaine sucks in a shuddering, nervous breath. He can't help it, really. Despite the amount of times they've had penetrative sex, he still worries that he'll mess something up or that he'll do something Kurt doesn't like. The thing is, though, Kurt always leads them. He always guides Blaine down onto the bed, hovering over him with strong limbs until Blaine spreads his legs below, signaling Kurt to continue. Kurt slides into him the same way, all slow and gentle thrusts accompanied with sweet, encouraging words in Blaine's ear.
It's nice, of course. It's always nice and very nearly perfect.
But Blaine occasionally feels like he's never giving as much as he's getting. Perhaps, though, it's his fault. He had told Kurt that this couldn't be just sex for him; it had to be more than just sex for the sake of calming their rampant, teenage hormones. It had to be 'I love you' and 'I'm showing you with my body'. It had to be soft caresses and Blaine on his back, looking up into Kurt's warm eyes flooded with barely disguised arousal while he slid into Blaine's body with slow, measured thrusts.
And that is wonderful because Kurt does it so very well. He has respected Blaine's wishes from day one, always asking to touch, always making sure that Blaine really and truly wants this sort of intimacy. Blaine is profoundly grateful for Kurt's consideration and patience.
But now Blaine feels like he's holding them both back from something new, except he doesn't know how to bring it up.
Especially when Kurt slides off Blaine's boxers and begins kissing his way down Blaine's chest, only to pause and lick at one of Blaine's hip bones.
"Mmm," Blaine hums appreciatively, reaching down to tuck a stray strand of Kurt's hair behind his ear.
Kurt looks ridiculously beautiful in the bit of moonlight spilling in between the cracks in his blinds, the faint silver glow of it falling over his naked back and tripping over the angles of his face. Even now, two years later, he's still the most gorgeous person Blaine has ever seen.
