another Kurt being delusionally sick and horny bc hes cute
"Oh, my god, what is in this?"
"It's delicious. Delicious like cherries."
Blaine shifts over the tray that he's holding which contains soup, crackers, and a flower in a little vase that he'd found in the Hummels' kitchen. "Kurt, were you supposed to take that now? Didn't I give you some when I got here?"
Kurt is flushed with fever and his eyes are wandering and he looks silly and very, very high. "Oooo-oops?" He giggles. "Blaine, you are so fuzzy."
Blaine sighs. "Okay. Let's just take that bottle away, huh?" He snags the prescription bottle full of codeine-laced Tylenol and puts it out of reach.
"I'm going to turn on the TV and we're going to watch something until you fall asleep." Which should be roughly minutes, judging by how much syrup Kurt has consumed.
He's on the recovery end a very nasty chest infection, and Blaine has been coming over after school for five days straight now to make sure he's not alone for the couple of hours between school letting out and Burt getting off work.
Kurt is normally wonderful company, but when he's sick he goes back and forth between being incredibly clingy and also irritatingly demanding, and Blaine will admit that his patience isn't as thick as it had been at the beginning of the week. God.
It's all worth it when they cuddle up together and Kurt hugs him and tells him what a wonderful boyfriend he is, though. God, there is no feeling quite like that, is there? He loves taking care of Kurt.
Five minutes turns into a half hour, because they fall asleep together on top of the blankets with the noise coming from the TV lulling them ever deeper. Blaine wakes up to a slightly more lucid Kurt–but still feverish, judging by the heat coming off of his skin–who has one leg wrapped around his hip and is kissing his neck.
"Hello," Kurt whispers, rough and sleepy.
"Oh, hey, that's–your hand," Blaine says, blinking. "Kurt, you're sick, and delusional apparently, come on."
"La la la can't hear you," Kurt says, rubbing his fingers back and forth over the bulge between Blaine's legs.
"Someone is awake, though. Mmm."
Blaine blushes. He feels conflicted about letting this happen with Kurt sort of–compromised. But–
Kurt like this, relaxed and fever-sharp, is almost too good to turn down. He's boneless against Blaine's side, already breathing heavily and lightly churning his hips into Blaine's hip.
"God, Kurt," Blaine moans, feeling himself grow harder and harder under Kurt's hand.
"Love your cock," Kurt breathes.
And he's never, ever said that before. Blaine whimpers. It's the weirdest and hottest thing ever.
"Y-you do?"
"Think about it when I touch myself," Kurt groans, sliding one leg over Blaine's body and stroking him harder. "Just yours, though, just–love you so much, Blaine."
Blaine stares into his eyes; his pupils are blow wide and his cheeks and nose are apple red. His eyelashes dip slowly, sleepily, and his face–he looks so incredibly turned on that Blaine can't look away.
"Got a fever, not drunk–come on." He undoes Blaine's jeans and Blaine inhales sharply. "God, 'm'so hot...so...can feel everything. 'M'tingling. Touch me. Touch me everywhere, please."
"We shouldn't," Blaine gasps.
Kurt climbs on top of him. "Please?"
"Oh my god." He wants to deny liking this, but he can't; his hands find Kurt's fever-hot hips. Kurt whips the t-shirt off of his torso, revealing creamy skin and pink, hard nipples, and Blaine's mind just shuts off. He thumbs Kurt's hip bones, pushing the waistband of his pajama bottoms down the flat of his pelvis. "You're not wearing any–"
Kurt grins and grinds down into him, so unlike his usual reserved self that Blaine can't think straight. "Gonna take advantage of you since you won't take advantage of me." He still looks half out of it, all wide eyes and uneven breath, but–
"W-what do you want to do?" Blaine asks.
Kurt's tongue is between his lips. He stares at Blaine, then makes this desperate little tense face and writhes down onto Blaine's cock. "Fuck me," he says, hips moving under Blaine's fingers
"Oh god."
"Got myself ready when you were asleep," he says.
"K-Kurt."
"Come on. Come on, Blaine." If he'd just stop circling his fucking hips like that–
"Okay. Okay, let me–" There is always lubricant in the shoebox that lives just under the left side of Kurt's bed (nightstand drawer too obvious), and so Blaine bends over the edge–Kurt kisses him and claws at him giggling the entire time–and retrieves the tube.
He's shaking as he squeezes enough out to coat himself. Kurt takes it from him and squeezes out some more, and–reaches back and slides two fingers into himself and Blaine groans.
"Fuck, Kurt." He's never seen Kurt do that, just finger himself like that, and it's–his cock is literally standing up out of his boxers, hard and red at the tip.
"That would be the idea," Kurt replies, grinning wildly, flushed and boyish. His hair is crazy and he looks almost feral, and Blaine just needs to be in him, like–yesterday. "Ready?"
"God yes," Blaine moans.
Kurt doesn't just straddle him as usual; he gets up on the balls of his feet, frog-style, and sits down onto Blaine's cock.
Blaine's eyes roll back in his head. He can't even look or he's going to come, where the hell did Kurt learn that, Jesus?
"Oh god yes," Kurt growls, sliding his hands down Blaine's legs backwards for balance; he has never been this relaxed before, his entire body spread and displayed for Blaine, slender strong legs splayed, cock rosy and hard and bouncing against his belly, balls swaying as he begins carefully fucking himself down onto Blaine's cock. He looks high as hell.
"Oh, god, ohgod, if you keep going that fast–"
"Yeah?" Kurt growls, watching him with intense eyes. "Yeah?"
"Gonna come so fast," Blaine gasps. And they–never got a condom, oh shitshitshit.
"Come in me? Yeah? You want that?" Kurt is almost challenging him, and he just–he grabs Kurt's hips and starts slamming up into him, something just letting loose in his chest. Kurt letting a string of "uh, uh, uh" fall from his lips every time Blaine bucks upward.
He slides one hand down from Kurt's hip to Kurt's cock, relishing the shudder and pause as Kurt reacts to the touch. He recovers quickly, though, riding Blaine mindlessly as Blaine jerks him off. It doesn't take long; soon enough he is whimpering and begging and the slit at the head of his cock gapes and he arches his back and Blaine can feel his body spasm as he comes around Blaine's cock, spurting over Blaine's fist and down onto Blaine's clothes.
He'd never even gotten himself out of his pants, much less his underwear or shirt.
"fuck," Kurt gasps, and Blaine can't take it.
He grabs Kurt around the waist and throws him onto his back and fucks back into him, pushing his knees up around his ears and riding him into the mattress.
"Blaine, Jesus. God. God, yes."
Blaine bites Kurt's shoulder and wraps him up in his arms and sucks at the skin between his lips as he comes, feeling Kurt arch with pain as blood spills beneath the skin. Blaine stares blindly at the hickey he's made as he pulses inside of Kurt's body, filling him up with slick release.
"Oh my god," he breathes, shaking. They have never had sex like that before.
Kurt is holding him and petting his sweaty-gelled hair and whispering nonsense against his jaw. "Suddenly feeling better now," he gasps, and Blaine laughs hysterically.
