Fic (Complete): Good For The Soul (Glee, Kurt/Blaine) 2/2

[cimmerians]

Part 1 here

***

A birthday party. A parentally chaperoned birthday party. Innocuous. Safe. Balloons and party hats and cake and singing, many-happy-returns and presents and ribbons and no dark alleys and no unhygienic bathrooms to have degrading, perverse sex in.

“It’s Brittany’s party, which adds a certain… well, ‘aura of unpredictability’ is probably the best way to put it-”

“Kurt…”

Kurt switched his phone to his other ear. “What? You don’t like Brittany?”

“Kurt,” Blaine’s voice was serious. “I adore Brittany-you know that. And yes, I’d love to go to her party with you. I just… this is the first time you’ve talked to me since we… since-”

“I’m sorry, I went straight to sleep when I got home. Funny, but I was exhausted for some strange reason-”

“And the next day?”

“I slept late, and then I had so much stuff to catch up on-”

“I think…” Blaine cleared his throat, and when he continued, his voice was low, just a murmur. “Kurt, I think we have a problem, and I’d like to talk with you about it, if you’d-”

“We don’t have a problem,” Kurt said lightly. They didn’t. He’d learned his lesson, and he was never going to put himself through that again, no matter what-even if he had to tie his fucking hands behind his back to stop himself.

He closed his eyes, wishing that he hadn’t thought about it in that particular way. “We’re fine, Blaine. No problem.”

Blaine sighed. “Okay. If you… I just hope you know you can talk to me, you know, if you want to.” His voice softened. “I love you. A… lot. A whole lot. I hope you know that.”

Kurt squeezed his eyes tighter, pressing one hand to his chest. “I know. I know you do, Blaine. You, too.”

***

“What is it?” Blaine asked, laughing and curious and wide-eyed, hand-in-hand as Kurt tugged him through the darkened backyard, the roar and bedlam of the party dropping quickly away behind them. “What’s so important that I have to see it right now?” His feet dragged, and Kurt squeezed his hand tighter and ploughed on. “Mr. Pierce has these old bongos-Finn and I are going to drum, and Santana’s doing Peggy Lee’s ‘Fever’-Kurt, seriously, it’ll be sexy and, uh, kind of amusingly ironic, now that I think about it-”

“Shut up, Blaine,” Kurt said calmly. This was easier, now-easier every time, actually, to break all the promises he’d made to himself. What wasn’t getting any easier was the aftermath-but that was something he couldn’t-shouldn’t-think about right now. He hauled Blaine behind the rickety shed that sat in the furthest, darkest corner of the vast backyard and put his arms around Blaine’s neck, pulling him close. “I can’t stand it-you look so beautiful, and the smell of you is killing me, and I’ve been hard for you since you picked me up and I… I-”

“Oh,” Blaine said softly, cupping his face. “Well, I… um… you know, this seems kind of… risky, doing this here-”

“Uh-huh. That’s what makes it hot,” Kurt whispered, moving in for a kiss.

Only Blaine pushed him back, actually pushed him back and held him back, hands firm on his biceps. “No-Kurt, listen. That’s not what makes it hot-what makes it hot is that I love you.”

“I know you do, I love-”

“I’m not sure you do,” Blaine said, still holding him at arm’s length, his voice low.

Kurt swallowed hard. “Blaine, what-you have to know, of course I love you-”

Blaine relaxed his grip and then they were close, right up against each other, only Blaine felt… different, somehow, no longer radiating that intensity of desire that Kurt responded to, that he always responded to. And without that, it actually felt kind of… strange, having Blaine so close, soft words spoken right into his ear. “Kurt, I think… I think you’re using what we do together as a way to… hurt yourself, feel bad about yourself.” Kurt sucked in a deep breath and pulled away a little, but Blaine didn’t let him go. “Do you know how awful that is for me? To be with you like that, and to know we both wanted it, only afterwards you hate yourself for it?”

Kurt pulled away until Blaine let him go, and took two steps backwards. “How do you know that?”

The dim moonlight only gave him a silhouette, but it was enough to see Blaine hang his head. “Because I’m not an idiot, and I care about you, and I spend way too much time paying attention to every detail of you.”

“I’m not…” it was important, imperative that he get this across, only every word seemed to stick in his throat. “It’s not like I’m looking for ways to feel bad, Blaine,” he said finally, quietly. “I’m not. It’s just… every time, afterwards, I feel so ashamed-I know, I know, we talked about and it’s normal, whatever, it just… it doesn’t feel normal. Afterwards.”

“Oh,” Blaine’s voice was shaky. “I see. Well, maybe it isn’t what you really want-”

“It’s what I want now-then-you know. When I want it. Only afterwards I think about it and it seems like-” He stopped, swallowed, and then forced himself to go on. “Like the opposite of what people in love should… should be doing. Like the opposite of romance-”

“Kurt.” Blaine stepped close to him and reached out, a soft touch from his arms up to his shoulders. His voice was quiet, intense. “Look-you know, back when we… when we talked about this for the first time, I wasn’t sure, I mean… I didn’t know. What would happen. And I was… terrified, actually, about what might happen. But then it happened.” Blaine took two quick, deep breaths. “It happened, and it was… Kurt, don’t you get it? What we do together isn’t the opposite of romance-it is romance. Because all I feel for you is love.” He heard Blaine’s breath catch, and he realized Blaine was crying. “I love you through every second-your heart, your body, the things that get you hot-I love all of it. All of it. All of you. Can’t you… don’t you see that’s what matters?”

“Blaine,” he said softly, reaching out, gathering Blaine’s shirtfront into his hands. He closed his eyes for a second, dwelling on Blaine’s words, on his sweet, bizarrely adorable (if hopelessly inaccurate) idea of romance. Then he opened his eyes and said what he had to say, the only thing he could think of to say that might… fix things. “Blaine, it’s not you-” He choked a little when he realized what he’d said, that he’d said it before, but, God help him, it was true. “This isn’t something that’s wrong with you. It’s me.” and all I need is a little time, afterwards, because it’s always there but it goes away, it always goes away and then I can-”

“I can’t,” Blaine said, his voice soft and sad and hopeless. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be a part of… of you hurting yourself any more, Kurt… I can’t do… this any more.”

Kurt swayed on his feet, and just stood there, frozen and motionless, sucking in a deep, sudden breath when Blaine’s hand brushed his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Kurt.”

And then Blaine was gone.

***

It was nearly three in the morning when Blaine called him, but Kurt answered on the first ring-it wasn’t like he was sleeping, after all.

“Blaine-”

“Listen, Kurt,” Blaine’s voice was low, his tone careful. “I know you probably have some things to say to me, but first I need you to just… listen, okay?”

Kurt leaned back against his headboard with the phone pressed to his ear, and closed his eyes. “I… okay.”

“There was a time,” Blaine said, and stopped, then took a breath and went on. “It used to be that I was… not indifferent-not to our friendship, certainly-but at least oblivious. I was oblivious to certain things about you. For a long time.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s-”

“That time is gone,” Blaine interrupted, his voice thick. “It’s in the past. It’s so much in the past that I actually can’t even remember what it was like, to think about you and not want you like crazy, or to look at you and not need to hold you, keep you safe so nobody can ever, ever hurt you. To… to be with you and not want to love you so hard that you’ll have no choice but to feel it…”

Kurt was crying quietly, holding his blankets close to his aching chest. “Blaine-”

“No, Kurt-I’m almost… I’m almost done, okay?” He took a few deep breaths, and when he went on his voice was steadier, calmer. “If… since the way we’ve been together is… makes you unhappy, I need to… I want us to find a different way of being together. I want us to find a different way, because the alternative is-it just hurts too much, Kurt. I can’t give you up, it’s too late, I’m too… I can’t do it.”

“I’m… what do you want me to do?”

“I want… I’m asking you to let me try. Look, my parents are going out of town for a few days, I’ll have the run of the kitchen. I want you to come over for dinner. I’ll cook. We’ll sit on the couch afterwards and hold hands and watch some ridiculous tearjerker movie-and that’s all. Just… romance, in the traditional sense. I won’t… there won’t be anything you have to, uh, atone for afterwards. Will you… can we try?”

Kurt took a breath and wiped his eyes. That… sounded wonderful. It also sounded very much like the kind of promises he’d made to himself in the past, only now Blaine was making them too-and there was something… terribly sad about that. “Yes,” Kurt said softly, hesitantly, his voice soft and hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again, because, sad or not, he wanted whatever part of Blaine he could get. “Yes, I’d love to.”

Blaine sighed gustily, as if he’d been holding his breath. “I… good. Okay. Good.”

“I love you, Blaine,” Kurt said, curling up around himself, clutching his phone. “I really do.”

“I know. I know, Kurt.”

***

Blaine lost himself in cooking, completely absorbed by whatever he was doing in the moment. It was strange, to be able to look at Blaine while his intense focus was on something else-voyeuristic, almost, like he was spying, and with a weird, ridiculous, but undeniable undercurrent of jealousy; he was fairly sure this was the first time he’d ever been jealous of… shrimp. Kurt offered to help once or twice-offers that were politely rebuffed-and then he subsided, perched on a barstool in the corner of the kitchen, sipping water with lime and just… watching.

He honestly didn’t remember much of dinner, which was a pity, because the bits he did remember-ginger prawns that were sweet and fiery, and some kind of arugula-pancetta salad-were amazing. Mostly he watched Blaine, Blaine who barely looked at him, who only talked to him to ask him if he wanted more or if he needed a refill on his water or to please pass the pepper. Blaine’s fingers touched his when he handed the pepper across the table, and both of them jerked back at the same time, landing the pepper-mill on its side, rocking loudly until Blaine picked it up. Kurt looked at Blaine then and saw his mouth twisted wryly and he almost-almost-laughed, but in the end everything was too fragile, too… tenuous for laughter.

After that, he was very careful to keep his hands to himself. He minded his manners, he ate his dinner, and he absolutely did not think filthy thoughts about what it might be like to fuck Blaine in such a gorgeous kitchen. The dinner was delicious; he knew that much. It was also excruciating.

Afterwards, after compliments and thanks politely given and just as politely received, there was a super-polite tug-of-war over doing the dishes, which ended with Kurt washing the things that couldn’t be loaded into the dishwasher while Blaine dried them and put them away. When they were done and the kitchen was pristine, sparkling, Kurt dried his hands on a dishtowel and then stood there squeezing it, squeezing it the way his heart felt squeezed, knowing the words he was going to have to say. He took a deep breath, and said them. “Blaine, I’m sorry, but… I don’t think this is going to work.”

“No, it isn’t,” Blaine agreed calmly, although there was nothing calm about his expression, which looked… tortured. “Not at all.”

Kurt dropped the dishtowel and stepped closer to Blaine, as close as he dared given that Blaine still wouldn’t look at him. “What am I doing wrong?” he asked quietly. “What do I need to-”

“Nothing-God, Kurt, you’re not doing anything wrong, okay? It’s me.” Blaine looked at him then, wide-eyed and sad. “I don’t… it seems I’m not very good at, um, compartmentalizing, because trying to… limit this, trying to find the right thing to say when nothing seems right, trying to put the parts that are suitable here and shove away the parts that aren’t there… it feels like trying to cut myself in half.” He turned away, walked to the small marble island where they’d eaten dinner, then sat down and rested his face in his hands. “I was an idiot, thinking I could do this. You should probably go. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to go,” Kurt said immediately, grabbing the counter and holding tight to it when his hands started to shake. “I don’t want to go, and I don’t want half of you, or bits of you, or whatever parts of you are suitable-God…” He hadn’t thought of it that way before, but… yes. It was true-that was exactly, precisely, what he was doing himself when he made all those promises out of sheer desperation-and the thought of Blaine doing it, doing that same thing, was… terrible. He let go of the counter and took a step towards Blaine. “I just… I just want you.”

Blaine rubbed both hands down his face and looked at him, his face drawn, tired… and careful. “I’m not going to… Kurt. I can’t… we can’t-”

Kurt reached out and took one of Blaine’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumb gently between the first two knuckles. “Then… let’s find out what we can do.”

***

The first time Blaine kissed him was a shock-they’d never kissed lying down before, and it was… different, it was very different, being laid out in Blaine’s wide, white bed. They were fully clothed but for their shoes, with Kurt on his back and Blaine lying next to him, not even touching anywhere except for mouths and one hand each, fingers laced together and resting on Kurt’s chest. It was… sweet, so sweet it made his chest ache. It was intimate. It was safe. And it was wonderful.

The other thing that was different was that there was time, now-time to go slow. Blaine kissed him like he had years to do it in; patient, thorough kisses that weren’t a preamble to anything but instead were the goal in and of themselves, each one complete and whole and lovely. Kurt caught himself humming a little, very softly, and made himself stop, only thirty seconds later he’d started up again, so finally he decided to just let it go. Blaine touched his face, his hair-just a little, just enough that with his eyes closed Kurt never knew when the next touch was going to come or where it would land, and when it did he melted just a bit more, both of them sighing.

He was sinking-in the soft comfort of the duvet, in the warm, wet softness of Blaine’s generous mouth, in the matched rhythm of their heartbeats that he could feel-his own in his throat, Blaine’s in his wrist, under his thumb. Blaine was amazing and incredible and irresistible and Kurt sank without a murmur, went under with nothing but gratitude, only then Blaine tilted his head a little, just a quarter inch, no more, and on the next kiss their mouths fit together in a new way, a way that resonated like a suddenly-struck bell, a way that sent a twist of white-hot heat right through him and down to his toes-

“What?” Blaine pulled back from him blinking, his pupils so wide his eyes looked black. “Kurt-what-what happened, did I hurt-”

“No,” Kurt said, squeezing Blaine’s hand. “It was-it’s nothing, you didn’t hurt me, please-don’t stop, okay?

“Kurt, talk to me-”

“Kiss me.” He lifted his head and went for Blaine’s mouth, and Blaine opened for him-hesitantly at first, then relaxing by slow degrees, following him down and down until they were right where they’d been before, only now when Blaine’s tongue slipped and rubbed over his own Kurt had to lock down on a flood, a torrent of images that went through his head and sent shockwaves through his heart and his body, until he was hard and sweating and starting to gasp.

“Kurt-” Blaine was shaking, a fine, light tremor that Kurt felt everywhere. “You’re… fuck. You’re so fucking beautiful-”

Blaine gasped when Kurt rolled on top of him, rising up to his knees and swaying there, undoing the buckles on his vest and yanking it off, trying not to grind down on the hardness he could feel under him. He unknotted his tie slowly, shivering as he pulled it free. He took one of Blaine’s hands off his knee and pressed the tie into it, folding Blaine’s fingers around it, and then held out both of his own hands wordlessly, crossed at the wrist, palms up.

“Oh,” Blaine said, something flashing in his eyes and then gone, but Kurt didn’t pretend not to feel the half-suppressed twitch, the leap of tension in the body under him. “Kurt-”

“You were right,” Kurt said breathlessly. “I can’t cut it off, I can’t be half a person.”

“Kurt, I promised… I can’t-please, don’t ask me if you’re just going to-”

“Blaine, I can accept anything, as long as you love me.” His voice cracked on the last words, but he pressed on anyway. “You were right about that, too.” He squeezed Blaine’s waist with his knees, just a little. “So… please.” He held out his wrists again. “Love me?”

Blaine closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip. “Fuck,” he said. Kurt watched him. He was rubbing the tie, moving his thumb back and forth across the weave in a way that made Kurt’s stomach flutter. Blaine opened his eyes then, and Kurt met them, his breath high and thready, his heart pounding. “Love you, Kurt,” Blaine said hoarsely. “Way too much.”

The soft, cool silk sliding over his wrists made him moan.

***

Blaine left him on top, tied his wrists together and then to the headboard, and once he stretched out, got strong legs in between his own and pushed him wide-so wide he had no leverage at all, nowhere to go except… where he was: floating, immobilized.

“Blaine,” Kurt gasped, “I can’t… I really can’t move.”

“Mmm,” Blaine’s hand slid into his hair and curled to a fist, turning his head a little and then going right for his ear. “Want me to let you go?”

“God… no.”

“Okay.” He bit Kurt lightly on the side of his neck. “Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then.”

Blaine kissed him hard, nipping his bottom lip until he shivered. Kurt’s hips bucked helplessly, and Blaine’s hands slid down his back to his ass, grinding them together and working them against each other until Kurt cried out. Then he stopped.

“Don’t stop, don’t-”

“Shh,” Blaine said, two fingers sliding across his swollen, wet lower lip. “Open up.”

Blaine sighed when Kurt sucked on his fingers, rocking their hips together slowly, luxuriously; like they had all the time in the world. “On second thought,” he breathed, “I take back the ‘shh’-please, make all the noise you like.”

Kurt moaned around Blaine’s fingers, then went stiff and pulled against the soft silk around his wrists when Blaine got a hand between them and undid his jeans. Blaine worked his pants down just a little, one-handed, then pulled his fingers out of Kurt’s mouth and slid them right down the crack of his ass, slipping lightly over and around his hole while Kurt heaved on top of him.

Blaine hummed deeply and kissed him again, one hand under his ass to grind them together, the other rubbing him right where he was tenderest with light, teasing touches. Kurt’s spine twisted and his neck arched and he hung there, gasping and twitching, needing more of everything, needing to move, biting his lip once Blaine pulled back from his mouth.

“Blaine-more-”

Blaine’s fingers circled his hole lazily, deliberately. “Hmm… I thought this was more.”

“It’s not enough, it’s not-God, please, I need-”

“You know I’m going to fuck you, right?” Blaine murmured in his ear, and Kurt closed his eyes and came hard, just like that, soft little cries escaping him while he writhed and shuddered and rolled his way through it.

Blaine kissed him until he was quiet, and untied him at some point-“Just for a while,” Blaine told him when he tried to hang onto the tie. Everything was hazy and heavy and warm, and Kurt didn’t move when Blaine stripped him, only sighed and panted and twisted against the sheets when Blaine took his time petting him anywhere-everywhere.

Blaine’s sweet, dangerous mouth on his nipples made him hard all over again, and would have made him come if he hadn’t just done so. The slow dip of Blaine’s tongue in his navel made his balls draw up tight to his body, his hips shuddering, and the bites that followed in a curved line up to his neck left him a rocking, moaning mess, so turned on it felt like he was vibrating.

He blinked hard in an attempt to get his eyes to focus when Blaine took his own clothes off, drinking in the sight of him greedily. It seemed so miraculous-there was light here, and space, and time, and his heart was thumping hard and his belly was full of butterflies and Blaine was so, so beautiful.

“Thank you,” Blaine said quietly, which was the first clue Kurt had that he’d been talking out loud. Blaine pressed him onto his back and straddled his chest, stretched Kurt’s wrists high, high up above his head, then pinned them to the soft duvet with one hand while using the other to guide his cock into Kurt’s open, moaning mouth. It was a tease, a terrible, brief tease of shallow, languid thrusts that barely used his mouth at all, although Blaine sighed softly and moaned low in his throat like it was all he wanted-because he was a fucking tease.

Kurt licked salty slickness off his bottom lip when Blaine pulled back, swallowing and shivering. “You can… Blaine-you can come in my mouth, fuck my mouth-”

“Huh,” Blaine said, gazing off into space as if he were considering it, as if the thought had not actually occurred to him until that very moment. “I could, yes,” Blaine said cheerfully, beaming down at him with a gorgeous smile. “Thanks for noticing that.”

Kurt managed to half-stifle the whimpering sound he made, and decided-fine, if Blaine wanted to be a total laissez-faire dick about it, he would just have to play stoic. He would just be… really, really stoic. But that turned out to be horrible timing on his part, because that was when Blaine decided to bring the tie back for an encore, trussing his wrists together behind his back and then rolling him face-down with his legs spread wide.

Stoic went by the wayside, unlamented. “Are you going to fuck me?” His voice was raw, throaty, and his hips were already moving, humping the duvet.

“Oh, yes,” Blaine said quietly, breath stirring the hair on the back of his neck, making his skin prickle everywhere. “But not just yet.”

Kurt moaned when Blaine bit the back of his thigh, hissed when Blaine scratched blunt nails over the backs of his knees, gasped when Blaine sucked hard between two knobs of his spine just below his waist-and then cried out high and helpless with all his muscles locked when Blaine licked his ass, soft, teasing licks that made him throb everywhere, that made his bound hands open and close, over and over.

His eyes stung, welling up, so he closed them. “Blaine,” he said, unable to stop himself from spreading further, choking on everything that was rising up in him. “That’s… you… it feels like you’re breaking my heart-”

“I won’t do that,” Blaine said soothingly, petting him, pulling his hips up, up so he was on his knees. “I won’t. You can take this. Just… hold on.”

Kurt held on. He turned his face into the pillow under his head and let it all come, tears and sobs and moans and also a bunch of words that he hoped he would never remember saying, swaying and rolling while Blaine’s tongue worked him over. He held on through each flickering tease, each scorchingly intimate caress. He held on through heart-seizing waves of tender, vulnerable sweetness, and he held on through muscle-clenching, cock-pounding surges of whorish, slutty greed. He felt like he was glowing, defiled and sanctified at once.

Blaine’s gasps for breath sounded tortured when he stopped, and Kurt lost any complaints he might have made in concern. “Blaine-what’s… are you okay?”

“You’re so fucking hot,” Blaine told him, and the hands on his hips were trembling. “Sorry, just-I waited… I waited too long, and I really, really need to fuck you, right now, okay?”

“Okay-yes-please,” was as far as he got before Blaine scrambled off the bed and attacked his bedside drawer. Kurt closed his eyes and breathed, and he was quiet, twitching and shaking a little, but quiet until Blaine got back behind him.

Blaine went fast-much, much faster than Kurt expected. Blaine… pushed, opening him up with terrifying speed, one finger then more then more and barely any time to adjust in between, and nothing hurt but it… stretched, and he had so many nerve endings back there that were firing off crazy messages to the rest of his panting, jerking body, and when Blaine slid over his prostate for the first time he pressed his face into the pillow and yelled, his hips bucking helplessly.

After that it seemed like mere seconds before Blaine hauled him up to sit back on his knees, one hand on his shoulder (very necessary, since Kurt really didn’t think he could keep himself upright at that point) and one still in him, still inside until it slipped out and Blaine slipped in, just a little just a bit of him but he felt fucking huge, and Kurt let his head fall back against Blaine’s shoulder and panted at the ceiling.

“Oh, fuck,” he said quietly, his voice high and shaky. He sank back and sank back and felt Blaine’s hard cock glide over that spot in him that made all his nerves fire at once and he gasped, rolling his hips and arching and pulling on his silk-bound wrists and he was-

Blaine’s sudden, fierce grip around the base of his cock cut him off, stopped him cold. “Don’t come,” Blaine growled low in his ear. “I swear, if you come I’m going to… I’ll lose it, so… not yet.”

Kurt closed his eyes and bit his lip, pushing his head back hard into Blaine’s shoulder. “I don’t think… I can help it,” he said, shuddering around the need pooling in his balls, his cock, his lower belly. “I just… this feels so good-”

“I’m going to fuck you,” Blaine told him, his voice rough and deep. “And you’re not going to come until I do.” There was no give, no room, nowhere to go with that, and then it got harder when Blaine bent him back down, pressing him into the pillows and then leaving him there to pant and twitch and moan ceaselessly while Blaine squeezed his hips and really let him have it, fucking him harder and faster until everything was exploding-except him. He hurt from not-coming and he hurt from how good Blaine felt inside him, an ache that was like a cramp that was like a rhythm that was like coming oh God… Kurt jammed his face into the pillow and held on, whispering ‘please come please please come’ under his breath over and over until the words didn’t even make sense any more.

Blaine slowed down, and first that was terrible and then it was wonderful because Blaine was hitching, his rhythm stuttering and ragged and falling apart and his breathing was turning to deep half-groans that sounded like he’d been wounded and-

“Kurt,” Blaine said, sinking all the way into him and staying there, rocking into him, jerking, gasping. “Fuck, Kurt, I’m-”

Blaine pulled out of him.

“Blaine!” Kurt’s whole body spasmed, and he pulled on his wrists hard enough to hurt but Blaine was untying him anyway, untying him and flipping his boneless body over and shoving his thighs apart and sliding back into him with one hard, delirious thrust that made Kurt moan and buck and put his newly-liberated hand in his mouth to bite down on something so he wouldn’t come all over the place.

Blaine went slowly, too slowly; there was too much time to feel every exquisite second of drag and friction and pressure and dizzying goodness, it was too-much and too-good and Blaine was right there, their faces only inches apart. Blaine looked wrecked and sweaty and… vulnerable and sexy and his bottom lip was chewed and trembling a little. “Kurt…”

Face to face. They didn’t do this, face to face-all of a sudden Kurt didn’t have to worry about trying not to come because all he had room to worry about was trying to hide. He put both his hands over his face-he’d been crying and he was sweaty and bitten and he’d begged so hard and behaved like the world’s biggest fucking slut-

“Kurt,” Blaine said, moving in him gently, rocking in him, tugging his hands down. “Don’t… don’t hide, okay?”

“Shut up,” Kurt said, his voice tense and tight, trying to shove his face into the curve of Blaine’s neck. “Just shut up and fuck me and come-”

“I will,” Blaine said, “but I needed, I wanted to see you-you’ve never been more… I’ve never loved you more than I do right now. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Shut up,” Kurt said again, crying, crying hard, hanging onto Blaine’s neck like his life depended on it, when all he wanted to do was shove him away.

Blaine kissed him, and Kurt kept crying. Blaine squeezed his thighs and spread him wider and moved in him like they were both made of glass and could break, sighed into his mouth and fucked him so tenderly that Kurt gasped through his tears and got lost, release feeding into release and when Blaine shuddered like a racehorse and jerked deep inside him he came immediately, sliding over the edge and still crying and fucking himself on Blaine’s twitching cock like he’d never get enough of it.

***

Blaine scrubbed him down in the shower, dried him off, then brushed his hair back with endless soft, delicious strokes of a silver-backed hairbrush. Kurt let Blaine lead him back to bed, let himself be wrapped up and held, Blaine’s warm breath soft against his neck.

Then it was quiet, for a long time. He was exhausted, but not sleepy, because there was a sense of… waiting, something suspended, something not done. He didn’t know what it was, only then he did and a streak of fear flashed through him, making him shiver.

“Kurt.”

He turned in Blaine’s arms, so they were face to face. He spent what felt like a long time staring into Blaine’s eyes, watching for… something, only he didn’t know what. But his heart sped up and his breath caught and he swallowed, twice, quickly, and then his throat relaxed, and he could talk.

“I like it when you hold me down,” he said softly, so softly that it was barely more than a whisper. “I like it when you… tie me. I like it when you tease me and play with me and bite me, and… and… I like it when you hurt me just a little bit.” He stopped to breathe, light, panting breaths and he was already dizzy, but he pushed on. “I love your cock and I love being fucked and I like it when it’s dirty, sometimes. I love sucking you. I love making you come. I love it when you make me come-even if you make me wait. Especially if you make me wait.” He choked up on that last part, then swallowed and kept going. “I like… a lot of things that don’t really fit with who I thought I was… but. That’s… who I am, Blaine.” Something in his chest glowed red-hot. “It’s not who I thought I… who I thought I should be, maybe, but it’s who I am.” One more breath, all the way down to the hot core of him. “Do you still love me?”

“Yes,” Blaine said, his eyes wet and his hands shaking when they came up to cup the sides of his face. “Oh my God yes I do, so much, Kurt-I love you so, so much.”

Kurt let out a breath that it felt like he’d been holding… well, approximately forever. He closed his eyes, and rubbed his cheek into Blaine’s warm, strong palm. “Okay,” he said quietly, hoarsely, then opened his eyes and looked at Blaine, who was looking at him, face to face. “That seems like a good place to start.”

~End

Author’s endnotes: Wow! Yet another story about intimacy! What a shocker!

But seriously: since This Black Garden was kind of an extreme characterization fantasy piece, I wanted to see if I could write some Kurt/Blaine kink that was a bit more organic and rooted in a more canonical characterization-a story about both of them, together, discovering aspects of a shared and complementary radical sexuality (AWWWWWW…) Thank you for reading this, if you did-I actually had a really good time writing it.

Which leads me to one last thing about this story: this is the one where Mairead (aka the other half of my brain which is not Aristide) woke up. She’s been mostly dormant for a long time, and it was… really good to have her back. In a dark, twisted kinda way :-)