The numbers on Kurt's phone glow a blinding blue as he manages to lift his arm up and check for the time. The movie is almost over and Blaine's parents are asleep upstairs, so they'd never know that he'd stayed over if he left early in the morning, but–he can't. He'd have to call his dad first and it'll never work out, no matter how amazing Blaine feels pressed against him like this and no matter what the excuse that they both come up with is.
He locks his phone again with a sigh and nuzzles his nose into Blaine's hair. He wishes that he could stay here forever, that there wasn't such a thing as curfew. He wishes that they were both in New York already, living in their tiny apartment together and staying up late together and sleeping together and just being together with no worries of roommates or parents or life.
"You have to go home soon," Blaine murmurs. His voice is a little rough and raspy, and as Kurt looks down Blaine's lashes, darkened and elongated in shadow, flutter beautifully across his skin. Blaine turns, looks up at Kurt with slitted eyes, and pouts at him with those gorgeous lips. "I don't want you to."
Kurt sighs, drags his nails through the hardened comb tracks of Blaine's gel. "I don't want to, either." They get sentimental like this, when they get an uninterrupted night. It's too easy to believe that they're living their life together already.
Blaine rests his palm over where Kurt's hand is pressed against the flat tautness of his belly; he flutters his lashes again, intentionally this time, Kurt suspects, and seconds later there's the firm, guiding movement of Blaine's hand as he drags Kurt's towards the waistband of his jeans.
"Blaine!" Kurt says through a laugh, half scandalized and half kind of really already turned on. There's nothing he loves more than fooling around with Blaine, but this is the Andersons' couch. Where his family sits.
"Please," Blaine whispers. His tongue darts out, wets his lips with a pink flash, and Kurt's cock gives a hearty twitch in his jeans that Blaine has to have felt where Kurt's hips are pressed against the firm swell of his ass. "There's lube between the cushions. Please, just...finger me. Before you go."
Fuck. Kurt swallows, closing his eyes as his hand slides lower, lower, until Blaine's fingers are curving his around the hot, already-hard outline of Blaine's cock through his jeans. He's heavy and full and god Kurt wants him. He wants to make him beg for it, wants to make him scream.
Still, he can't help but snort as he finds the lube between the cushions and holds it out. "How long has this been there?"
Blaine's face and neck redden slightly. "Um. I may or may not have put it here before you came over tonight?"
Kurt rolls his eyes and smiles. He gently tosses the lube onto the floor, and says, "Ridiculous. I can't believe you."
"Kurt," Blaine whines. He twists, scooting until Kurt has no choice but to awkwardly straddle him on the narrow couch. One hand clenches onto Kurt's shoulder, the other sliding between them and curving up, pressing, as he begins to rub his hand over Kurt's cock. "Less talking, okay?"
"Okay, okay." He knows they need to be frantic and fast: there's only a half-hour until he will have to leave in order to make it home at least ten minutes before curfew. He dips his head and presses his lips to Blaine's, feeling the way Blaine arches, pushes desperately into it as his arms wind around Kurt's neck. Kurt props his weight up with one hand, undoing Blaine's button and zipper with the other. The clinking of metal is almost too loud in the spacious room where even the tiniest of noises echo, and he keeps glancing at the stairs, afraid that any second one of Blaine's parents is going to walk down.
"God, Kurt, please, please," Blaine gasps when the flaps of his jeans fall open. Kurt's mouth dries at the sight of Blaine's boxer-briefs stretched over the hard curve of his cock, and his own moan is low and unabandoned as he presses his palm over it and soaks up the heat. Blaine hasn't been hard long enough for his underwear to dampen.
Blaine moans, much louder than Kurt had, and Kurt widens his eyes, claps his hand over Blaine's mouth as his fingers tease at the smooth, swollen head of Blaine's cock. "Shh, baby. We don't want to wake up your parents."
The TV glow is bluish black, and Kurt watches the play of shadows over Blaine's face, the way it darkens the delectable dip of Blaine's throat, casts in stark relief the bump of his nose, the lines dug deep into his forehead when his jaw drops and his head tips back. His hand grabs at the couch cushions, digs in when Kurt finally slips his hand under the waistband and draws Blaine's cock out.
He pushes Blaine's shirt up to his armpits, then braces one leg on the floor as he takes Blaine's jeans and underwear and gently tugs them down Blaine's legs. When the garments fall and Blaine's legs drop, spread, Kurt bites his lip, closes his eyes briefly and presses his palm roughly to his cock just to stop himself from coming,
Blaine is sin like this, spread open and still half-dressed. He's propped himself up on his elbows, and his lips are parted. His cock rests, hard and flushed-red and shining now at the tip, against his abdomen. One leg is bent at the knee against the back of the couch and the other is sole-flat on the floor.
Kurt picks up the lube, wets his lips, and kneels back on the couch between Blaine's legs. "God, B, you're so fucking hot."
Blaine kisses him, messy and sloppy, as Kurt thumbs open the bottle with a faint click. Kurt nips at Blaine's lower lip, sucking it into his mouth and drawing it out. Blaine gasps, hips stuttering up, his cock giving a twitch as it lifts off his abdomen. He licks into Kurt's mouth with abandon, their lips sliding together with slick sucking noises that make Kurt's entire body thrum and ache and throb.
Kurt drags his lips down Blaine's neck, feeling Blaine's hand slide into the back of his hair and tighten. The tug makes neurons shoot down his spine, and Kurt bites down, drawing skin between his teeth and sucking until Blaine's arching up, up, his words a useless, pitiful mess of sound and unintelligible noises as his fingers tighten, nails dig, and his palm presses Kurt's head closer and closer to his skin.
Kurt pulls back with a gasp, Blaine's newly-wet skin shining in the dim light. They're both panting, and Kurt can feel the sweat beginning to dot his skin just as it is beginning to dot Blaine's in beautiful little crystals. He thinks the movie may be over; he finds that he doesn't care either way.
Blaine's thighs are strong when Kurt kneels between them, remembers the first time they'd been in this position, when they'd both been flushing and hesitant and stammering. A little bit of that hesitating awkwardness is still there, but it's waned with experience, and all Kurt truly cares about now is Blaine.
The dark hair is scratchy when Kurt presses a kiss to the tender insides of his thighs, feels the tremor of the muscle as he moves lower, lower, before sitting up and back entirely. He strokes his fingers over Blaine's balls, then up the length of his cock as he follows a twisting, throbbing vein.
"Kurt," Blaine gasps, cries, pleads as Kurt thumbs at the slit, dipping his finger through and smearing the pre-come beading there. "Touch me, god, touch me, baby, please."
"Hold on," Kurt soothes, squeezing some lube onto his fingers. He works it around until it's warm and says, spreading Blaine's leg with his other hand, "I'm not going to use a lot, sweetheart, okay? I don't want to get any on the couch."
"Don't care," Blaine breathes, lifting his hips up. "Just do it now."
The first finger circles Blaine's dusky, clenching hole, and Kurt draws his lower lip into his mouth as the muscle moves under his touch. He slides in at Blaine's high whine, hears the groan and give of the cushion as Blaine digs his nails into it. His body is trembling, taut, already, and this is just one.
It's dry, and the drag is noticeable, but if it bothers him Blaine doesn't say anything, just breathes through his nose and scrunches his face up and moans when Kurt's down to the second knuckle. Kurt can feel the push as Blaine bears down, and he works his finger slowly, curving and twisting until Blaine's broken voice is begging for more more more.
Two has Blaine letting out a cut-off "Ah—" as he arches up. The pain flits like a hummingbird between his brows before it's gone just as fast, the furrow still there but for an entirely different reason now as Kurt's fingers slot side-by-side, pushed there by tight muscle.
"So gorgeous, baby," Kurt breathes, tilting his chin down towards his chest as he watches the way Blaine's body swallows up his fingers. "You take me so well."
"Yes," Blaine whines, his vice slipping up, up, into a desperate, high register. He fists a hand around his cock. "Don't stop, Kurt. Please. Don't—oh god."
Kurt slides in a third finger and groans, low in his throat. "Oh my god. You're so tight, Blaine—fuck. Come on; touch yourself for me. Make yourself come."
Blaine tosses his head back, lifts his ass up. Kurt slides his fingers out, ignores Blaine's whine of protest, and hefts Blaine's thighs up over his arms, then to his shoulders. He leans down before Blaine can say anything and laves his tongue broad over Blaine's hole. He licks until the taste of lube is gone and it's just Blaine, earthy and musky and so perfect that Kurt knows all it's going to take is his hand over his cock in his jeans to come.
Blaine is far from quiet now, but Kurt's not in a position to say anything as the slurp of his tongue, loud and obscene and so filthy, reaches his ears. Blaine's heels dig into his shoulders as Kurt squeezes his ass, spreads his cheeks and points his tongue, slipping it past the tight ring of muscle and into silky heat beyond.
Blaine yelps, and then the sound is muffled, like he's clasped a palm to his mouth; Kurt chances a look up, laving his tongue broad and hungry up over Blaine's balls, to see that he has. Blaine's brows are knitted; his eyes are squeezed shut so tight that the lines that fan from it stem far. His fingers dig into his cheeks, and his hand works fast and slick over his cock.
Kurt slips three fingers back in, crooks them up. His chin is wet—he can feel it. "C'mon, baby, let go. Taste so good, fuck, look so hot like this, giving yourself to me. That's it, B—yeah, baby, that's good."
Blaine's legs spread wide as he finally comes; he tips his chin up as his moans get muffled in his palm, and his chest rises and falls in a jerky, staccato motion. Sticky white dribbles down the length of his cock and over his fingers; it splatters over his stomach and chest, gathers thick and opalescent in the subtle dips of muscle.
Kurt doesn't even care that he has a drive home still as he presses his palm over his cock, thrusts forward a few times and comes, sucking in a deep, stuttering breath as his cock pulses in his underwear.
"Holy shit," Blaine breathes, dropping his hand. His palm is slick with saliva, and his eyes are wide and rounded. He's still catching his breath, cock giving tiny little jerks where his fist is still wrapped loosely around it.
"That sounds about right," Kurt gasps, shaking his head. He feels hot and cold all at once, and the sticky mess in his underwear isn't helping matters. "Ugh, and now I have to drive home like this."
"You could borrow something," Blaine offers, all innocence as he sits up.
Kurt raises a brow. "And have my dad see me come home in your sweatpants? Unless you want to see me never I would say that that's a terrible idea."
Blaine blushes in realization, but when he goes to apologize Kurt shakes his head and cuts him off, bending down to press a deep, lazy kiss to Blaine's mouth. "I liked it, too, so don't go saying that this is your fault." He checks his phone, swears and stands up. Blaine rolls over, the drying come on his abdomen shifting as his cock rests against his thigh. Kurt swallows hard, forces himself into grabbing his shoes and keys and stuffing his phone into his pocket. "I have to go."
"Don't go." Blaine pouts. "Stay with me."
Kurt imagines the days when stay with me will be a possibility, not a wistful fantasy. He smiles, walks over to the couch and bends down again, kissing Blaine's forward as he says, "Someday."
