Husbandly Duties - Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
Friday was terrible.
Karofsky was particularly obnoxious all day at school, even though he didn’t really do anything much - just stared at Kurt with a creepy, lascivious smile, while appearing out of nowhere everywhere they went. They all had classes together and even in classrooms, with teachers present, Blaine could practically feel the punk’s eyes on them. It was really getting to Kurt, making him more and more agitated and upset as the morning went by.
During lunch Karofsky sat at the table right next to them with his leather-clad pack of bad boys. At one point he said something quietly to the rest, who chuckled lewdly, and leered at Kurt again, licking his lips with a pierced tongue in a way that made Blaine’s skin crawl. The bastard was clearly enjoying seeing Kurt’s face crumble and his lips tremble.
Blaine acted on instinct. While he would gladly go up there and punch the guy in his metal-laden face, he knew he didn’t stand a chance - there were nine of them, all big, muscled and more than happy to jump into a fight, and Blaine, while strong, was small and lean. So he did the next best thing, something he knew Karofsky would find quite difficult to watch: cupping Kurt’s face, he turned his husband back toward himself and kissed him. Not just a chaste little peck, either. It was deep and dirty, all tongue and teeth, and it only took seconds before Kurt closed his eyes and got lost in the sensation, kissing back with equal passion. He threw his head back when Blaine abandoned his lips to lick and nip his way down his neck, and when he sucked on that one particular spot under Kurt’s jaw, the moan that ripped out of his husband’s throat was loud enough to turn heads in the almost-empty cafeteria. Blaine’s eyes were open all along, trained on the guy he’d began to really, truly hate lately, and he could clearly see the battle of emotions on his face. When Kurt moaned, Karofsky looked like he was going to explode; if looks could kill, Blaine would have just died in a very messy way. Oh, it was so worth it, in spite of the fact that Ms Pillsbury came up to remind them that even though they were newlyweds, they should avoid such blatant displays of affection in public. Kurt blushed furiously - it wasn’t like him to get carried away like that - but Blaine couldn’t find it in himself to regret his actions. Not right then.
The day didn’t improve much after that - Karofsky was keeping up his creepy behavior with even more vigor than before and Kurt was still anxious and upset, but the small purple hickey marking the perfect skin of his husband’s neck somehow made Blaine feel better every time he looked at it. It felt like a promise given to Kurt, written into his very flesh in a most intimate way - no one will take you away from me.
In the afternoon, the day actually got worse. As Blaine was walking to Glee practice after dropping his books off in his locker, he heard a sound of running feet in heavy boots. Before he knew it, Karofsky had him cornered in the empty corridor and was towering over him menacingly, way too close for comfort.
Blaine felt slow, cold waves of fear spread in his chest. There was no one around - classes were over and the choir room and gym, the only places where there were any extracurriculars that afternoon, were far enough that no one would hear him scream if Karofsky decided to beat him up, or worse. He knew the guy was fully capable of doing that, too; the scars on Kurt’s arms and chest from the “accidental” fall down the stairs and right through the glass door last year were evidence enough. Rumor had it, Karofsky even stabbed someone in a bar fight once.
Now, with the guy’s pierced eyebrows mere inches from his own, Blaine could barely breathe. He was grateful Kurt wasn’t there. He would undoubtedly do something heroically stupid and get hurt; and Blaine really preferred to get beaten himself than let anything happen to Kurt.
Except… After a tense lifetime that was probably really just a minute or so, Karofsky snorted and spoke hoarsely, with an ugly smirk.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Trying to show me how he’s yours? Pathetic. If it’s all so good in that little marriage of yours, how come you still haven’t fucked him, huh? You’re small, but I’ve seen those biceps. I’m sure you’d easily manage to press him into the bed and have your way with him. So why haven’t you? You could be sure I won’t get him, then. You could be certain he’ll be yours forever. The clock is ticking, Anderson. Only ten days left. I’m waiting.”
And just like that, he pushed off from the wall and was gone. Blaine stood alone, shaking with a mixture of disgust and relief, and feeling dirty from what he just heard.
He knew what Karofsky was trying to do - push them apart, make them rush into something they - or at least Kurt - weren’t ready for, on his conditions instead of their own. And the worst thing was, it was working, in a way. Blaine felt doubt creeping in on him, fear that they wouldn’t manage to go through with this and would get separated by the law. And he knew that if he felt like this, Kurt had to be so much worse, even more uncertain and afraid. It was like poison, seeping slowly into their blood and minds.
Neither Blaine nor Kurt could focus during rehearsal - they kept messing up choreography and singing below their abilities. It seemed to be infectious, too - soon everyone in Glee club was edgy and irritated for no apparent reason, and when they all finally packed into a bus to go perform at an evening event in a neighboring town, moods were sour. The performance went poorly, at least for their standards, and to add insult to injury, the bus broke down on their way back. They ended up spending two hours sitting in the middle of nowhere, everyone tired and arguing about every little thing, until another bus came to get them.
It was after midnight when Blaine finally got to bed, only to find his husband curled up on himself, staring blankly ahead. He lay his hand on Kurt’s shoulder, hesitant, and was relieved to feel him relax a little into the touch. Encouraged, Blaine moved closer and kissed the back of Kurt’s neck before murmuring right into his skin.
“Hey, I know you probably don’t want to talk yet… or do you?” Kurt shook his head minutely. “But you know… you’re not alone anymore. It’s okay to lean on me, I want you to know that. I want to be here for you, always.”
He felt Kurt stiffen, but then his shoulders shook and he turned. In the next instant, he was clinging to Blaine’s chest, sobbing, as if afraid of ever letting go. Blaine held him as close as physically possible, but it wasn’t enough. His face tear-streaked, Kurt pulled away after only a moment.
“I need you closer, need to feel you, can you…?” It took a pull at Blaine’s t-shirt to understand, but then he complied immediately, pulling it off. Kurt stripped his own shirt too and lay down with his head on Blaine’s chest, over his heart.
Skin on warm skin, safely hidden in a cocoon of Blaine’s embrace and a soft, fluffy duvet, Kurt cried until there were no more tears. Blaine just held him, every now and then kissing his forehead or whispering words of love and promises that they would be fine. He wished he could do more, but this had to be enough, for now.
Blaine woke up to fingers dancing in complicated patterns over the skin of his stomach. They must have been there for a while, because his cock had already gotten the memo and was waiting impatiently for his brain to catch up. He hummed with pleasure and opened his eyes, already smiling in anticipation of what he’d see - and he wasn’t disappointed. A pair of bright eyes, grayish green in the morning sun, greeted him with a serene smile from where Kurt was resting his chin on Blaine’s bare chest.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Did you know that I’d never thought I could like chest hair? And now I can’t stop staring and touching.”
Kurt raked his fingers up Blaine’s chest, causing his nipples to harden in anticipation. The duvet had partially slid off, but the goosebumps on Blaine’s arms had nothing to do with cold; in fact, he felt very, very hot all of a sudden. It got even hotter when Kurt pressed a soft kiss, ending with a kitten lick, right on his nipple, and Blaine gasped. Kurt continued drawing lazy patterns with his fingers as he spoke.
“Let’s just do it, what do you think? Right now.”
And okay, Blaine might have been blissed out, but not that blissed out. His eyes snapped open and the analytical part of his brain switched on immediately as he looked at Kurt, taking in his expression - calm, but with a hint of tension around the eyes; his body that seemed relaxed, but not in this boneless way that he’d already learned to associate with the way Kurt felt when really turned on. But mostly Kurt’s eyes; seemingly calm and earnest, but looking anywhere except in Blaine’s own. Yesterday came back to him with a nauseating jolt and he winced internally. Hell no. His face carefully neutral, he asked.
“You want to?”
Kurt nodded, his eyes still trained on Blaine’s nipple.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then say it.”
That finally provoked Kurt to look him in the eyes with a slightly shocked expression.
“What?”
Blaine calmly kept his gaze.
“Tell me what you want. Just say it.”
Kurt took a deep breath, his façade already fraying at the edges.
“I want us to have s-“ he broke off, tried again. “Let’s just have… have sex. Now. Please.”
There was nothing relaxed or calm about Kurt now; he was a mess of tense muscles and anxiety, biting his lower lip in a way that would have been irresistibly sexy if it wasn’t because of how stressed he was. Blaine shook his head.
“No. Not today, not like this. Not when you’re only doing this because of Karofsky.”
“But… it’s a weekend, we could easily have the 24 hours…”
“We can easily have 24 hours any other day too. I won’t make love to you on anyone’s conditions but our own.” Blaine combed his fingers through Kurt’s hair in a loving caress and realized his husband had frozen still, his eyes wide. He frowned. “What?”
Kurt blinked.
“What you said-“
Blaine played the last sentences back in his head a few times before it dawned on him.
“What, about making love to you? That’s what it will be, when we do, that’s what I want. Everyone can have sex, you know, but I’m pretty sure what we have is pretty rare.” He shrugged, blushing slightly. “Yeah, I know, it’s cheesy. But that’s how I see it.”
Kurt was still looking at him wide-eyed, unblinking; then suddenly jerked forward to kiss Blaine hard on the lips and whisper breathlessly.
“Not cheesy. Perfect.”
They stayed in bed, just cuddling and talking, every now and then exchanging languid kisses and touching bare skin with reverent fingers. At one point, Blaine wondered aloud.
“I don’t get it. You have no problem with talking about masturbation, with making out or making each other come, but one mention of sex and you fall apart.”
Kurt shrugged.
“Because all these things are natural, you know? It just… feels right. My body tells me I want it. When I think about sex, it feels to me like violence and intrusion; I keep seeing those awful pictures and diagrams, ugh.” He shuddered.
When they got up an hour later, they had the weekend planned: shopping first, to let Kurt make changes in Blaine’s wardrobe that he deemed necessary, back home for dinner, then out again, to a party at Rachel’s. Sunday would be spent with Blaine’s parents who invited them over. Sex wasn’t on the itinerary.
Somehow, though, something changed over the weekend. Unnoticed at first, but growing, by Sunday almost buzzing in the air between them - the sexual tension, vibes that made the tiny hair on the back of Blaine’s neck stand and his skin tingle. Kurt could feel it too, he knew - the looks they were passing between them, the constant touching, seemingly by accident- they all screamed of desire to be closer. By Sunday noon they wanted nothing more than to leave the Andersons’ house and get home as fast as they could, but they’d promised to stay for dinner, and Blaine’s mum prepared their favorite dishes, so there was no backing out now.
But it felt like pure torture. Blaine was oscillating between being half- and fully hard all day and finally it got so bad that he couldn’t even look at his husband without the urge to just grab him, press him against a wall and kiss senseless. Among other things.
He didn’t know what got into him, honestly. But there was something about Kurt… Something different and hard to qualify, to put his finger on. Some… openness? Something in his eyes, the way he moved? Whatever it was, Blaine couldn’t get enough.
Dinner stretched unbearably and by the time his mom got up to bring cake, Blaine was ready to scream. He’d been sitting right next to Kurt, their knees and hands touching every so often, sending sparks of arousal down his spine and making it difficult to talk coherently. Fortunately, his dad took one long look at them and their desperation must have shown, somehow, because he chuckled quietly and took his wife’s hand.
“Darling, I think the boys would prefer to eat the cake at home, over coffee. They have school tomorrow and probably a lot to do tonight, so…”
Blaine had never been so grateful for his father’s perceptiveness.
They barely made it to the bedroom before they were all over each other, dropping on the bed in a tangle of limbs, stripping their shirts. And if Blaine had any lingering doubts whether Kurt wanted this quite as much as he did, the way his husband immediately straddled his hips, pressing against him with a groan, was more than answer enough.
Blaine had ideas and plans for their promised 24 hours that were all about showing things to Kurt, loving him - but here, now, it was all Kurt in control, leading them, showing direction. It was him who kept the steady rhythm in which they were grinding against each other, him that devoured Blaine’s lips with unhindered passion, who sucked on his neck, marking it without even thinking about it. It was skin sliding against skin as their chests rubbed together, and silent explosions of overwhelming pleasure from the perfect friction between their cocks.
Blaine was simultaneously lost in their little world and hyperaware of all the details - the drops of sweat on Kurt’s neck, glinting in the dimming light from the window; the way he looked free, unrestrained, completely uninhibited. The delightful little sounds that kept escaping Kurt’s lips on every exhale, oh, and yes, and Blaine breathed in a hoarse whisper. He felt heat coiling tighter and tighter low in his belly, and if the way Kurt’s hips were stuttering ever more jaggedly, chaotically, was anything to go by, he was not the only one close, so close.
“I love you”, he whispered, and it must have been just the right thing to say, because Kurt moaned and tensed all over, his hips just jerking minutely, his fingers tightening on Blaine’s biceps, hard enough to bruise. Two upward thrusts against him and Blaine was coming too, Kurt’s name on his lips.
Somewhere on the gentle slide down into post-orgasmic bliss, with Kurt a warm sweet weight over him, revelation hit Blaine like a chance boomerang: that was it. It was right, they were ready.
Kurt hummed dreamily above him.
“You know what?”
Blaine smiled.
“What?”
“I really, really need to pee.” Blaine snorted so hard that Kurt almost rolled off him, which earned him a glare before Kurt continued. “And shower, because eww. It’s really quite impractical to keep doing this in our clothes, don’t you think?”
And with that, he was off the bed and on his way to the bathroom, leaving Blaine smiling widely to himself.