fic: i'm ready
fic: i'm ready
pairing: klaine
word count: 1, 165 words
summary: Blaine has lost a lot of things. Kurt was the best of things. But he hadn't lost him. Not really. He was right here.
a/n: Angie wanted hurt/comfort. i am incapable at properly filling prompts. this is what came of hat. inspired by the song Talk Show Host, Radio Head. listen to it. it'll help.
---
The spray of winter rain washed over the thick glass windows, obscuring Blaine’s view of the dreary beach below. He stamped his last cigarette out on the window sill and exhaled deeply, clouds of smoke billowing out in little loops. He ran a tired hand through his mattered curls, cursing his situation once more.
He had never particularly liked his job so really he shouldn’t be so upset now that it was gone.
It had just been… a shock, that’s all. Out of the blue, as his mother would say.
Out of the blue and out of functioning finance, Blaine thought. How was he supposed to support himself now?
The answer was clear.
He couldn’t.
He had given up on relying on people a long time ago. He didn’t consider himself jaded; even though he knew even the best of people would have their doubts. He just… he was proud. And he didn’t like to lose things.
The cigarette stub fell between his fingers and ash danced across the infuriatingly white tile below his feet. His hands, more steady now, found the cordless phone and dialled the memorised number before he could recite it in his own mind.
“Hello?”
“I need you.”
“…okay. I’m close by. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Blaine hung up without saying goodbye, his eyelids fluttering shut tiredly, a flicker of relief lighting in his chest. Every time there was always that tinge of worry.
Would he say no?
But he never did.
The minutes fell by quickly and Blaine didn’t move. Kurt didn’t even bother with the doorbell or knocking, simply letting himself in. He didn’t have a key but Blaine hadn’t locked the door.
He had nothing to lose.
Kurt was behind him in an instant, his ever warm arms wrapped tightly around him. The exhale of relief that left Blaine was indescribable. The second Kurt touched him, always, it was like a giant weight was lifted off his shoulders. Everything was safe and he made him strong.
If only for a short while.
Kurt’s lips found the base of his neck and he traced messy kisses up to his hair line.
“Did you want to talk about it?” he murmured.
“I lost my job,” Blaine answered simply, letting his eyes flutter shut once more. Kurt nibbled at his ear lobe, his arms snaking across his chest and finding his tie, pulling it loose.
“I’m sorry.”
Blaine shrugged. “I’ve lost a lot of things.”
Kurt was the best of those things.
But he hadn’t really lost him.
He was right here.
The tie fell to the floor without a noise. Kurt’s deft fingers worked at his buttons now, unlooping them without a question for consent. He knew what to do.
They had done this before.
Kurt’s mouth moved softly across his skin, shivers prickling across the same path. He nosed at his jaw, breathing in his aftershave.
He helped Blaine out of his dress shirt at last, his palms smoothing over his bare skin, heating up fast at Kurt’s touch.
Kurt moved around to the front of the chair, straddling his lap. Blaine assisted him in removing his own dress shirt and his heart rate quickened at the sight of the pale skin bared for him. He ached to touch him but Kurt took his hands in his.
“No,” he said firmly, his breath ghosting over his face, their noses nearly pressing together. “This is about you.”
It wasn’t always about Blaine.
He had been called too.
They had always been there once. But due to circumstances they had ended things.
What circumstances? People had asked. People had thought they would be together forever.
Life, Blaine would answer simply. And he would smile privately at what they didn’t know.
Because nothing was ever over. Not really.
Blaine’s head rolled back as Kurt’s lips attached to his neck. Kurt knew about his neck thing. He knew everything about him. He knew what he liked and what he didn’t. He knew his favourite colour, his middle name, his beliefs on everything, the little secrets that he had locked in the little black box of his mind.
He knew how to make him cry.
He knew how to make him scream.
The rain pounded down relentlessly against the window panes and Blaine realised with a start that he was going to miss this place. He was going to miss everything. This chair, the too white furnishings, the constant salt spray tainting the air.
Everything was going to change.
No, Blaine told himself. Not everything.
Not this.
Kurt eventually made his way up his throat, his lips finding Blaine’s and finally kissing him, deep, slow and burning, like a perfect cup of coffee or his morning cigarette.
He needed it.
He wanted it.
He ached for it.
He lost himself to it. His hands tangled in Kurt’s air, keeping him against his lips even as their hips began to move. They had ditched the old hesitance a long time ago and went straight for it, maybe a little messy and out of practice (it had been too long but not long enough, in Blaine’s mind) but hard and good. Kurt made him feel good, even when the rest of his life was shit.
Which was the whole point of these ‘meetings’.
It was the reason he still cried Kurt’s name in his sleep, the reason he never wrote his number down. It was the reason he never went on dates with brunettes and never looked into blue eyes.
There was one thing in his life that was perfect.
And he refused to let anything mess that up.
Their hips picked up pace, their kisses lost under the heat of the friction. Blaine didn’t even know where his hands were but his Kurt’s skin was soft under his fingers and he massaged at it, trying to memorise it until their next meeting.
Like he could forget.
Kurt slipped a hand between them, palming Blaine over his slacks. Blaine bucked into his hand immediately, moaning at the roll of his perfect palm. He clenched his eyes shut, pushing against him hard, once more before coming, Kurt’s name stumbling between his teeth.
Kurt came with him and kissed him lazily when they were both back to themselves.
“You won’t deny me cuddles, will you?” he murmured, winding his arms around Blaine’s neck.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Blaine said quietly. “Not when it’s probably the last time I’ll get to hold you here.”
Kurt stroked his cheek softly. “There’ll be other places…”
Blaine scowled. “None that I’ll be able to afford.”
Kurt shrugged. “You should become a prostitute then. Good pay and you’d be good at it.”
Blaine threw his head back in a sudden bubble of laughter. Oh fuck… Kurt really was something else.
And there was that part of him that still loved him. Achingly, desperately and fully.
But he couldn’t stay it.
He refused to let anything mess this up.
pairing: klaine
word count: 1, 165 words
summary: Blaine has lost a lot of things. Kurt was the best of things. But he hadn't lost him. Not really. He was right here.
a/n: Angie wanted hurt/comfort. i am incapable at properly filling prompts. this is what came of hat. inspired by the song Talk Show Host, Radio Head. listen to it. it'll help.
---
The spray of winter rain washed over the thick glass windows, obscuring Blaine’s view of the dreary beach below. He stamped his last cigarette out on the window sill and exhaled deeply, clouds of smoke billowing out in little loops. He ran a tired hand through his mattered curls, cursing his situation once more.
He had never particularly liked his job so really he shouldn’t be so upset now that it was gone.
It had just been… a shock, that’s all. Out of the blue, as his mother would say.
Out of the blue and out of functioning finance, Blaine thought. How was he supposed to support himself now?
The answer was clear.
He couldn’t.
He had given up on relying on people a long time ago. He didn’t consider himself jaded; even though he knew even the best of people would have their doubts. He just… he was proud. And he didn’t like to lose things.
The cigarette stub fell between his fingers and ash danced across the infuriatingly white tile below his feet. His hands, more steady now, found the cordless phone and dialled the memorised number before he could recite it in his own mind.
“Hello?”
“I need you.”
“…okay. I’m close by. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Blaine hung up without saying goodbye, his eyelids fluttering shut tiredly, a flicker of relief lighting in his chest. Every time there was always that tinge of worry.
Would he say no?
But he never did.
The minutes fell by quickly and Blaine didn’t move. Kurt didn’t even bother with the doorbell or knocking, simply letting himself in. He didn’t have a key but Blaine hadn’t locked the door.
He had nothing to lose.
Kurt was behind him in an instant, his ever warm arms wrapped tightly around him. The exhale of relief that left Blaine was indescribable. The second Kurt touched him, always, it was like a giant weight was lifted off his shoulders. Everything was safe and he made him strong.
If only for a short while.
Kurt’s lips found the base of his neck and he traced messy kisses up to his hair line.
“Did you want to talk about it?” he murmured.
“I lost my job,” Blaine answered simply, letting his eyes flutter shut once more. Kurt nibbled at his ear lobe, his arms snaking across his chest and finding his tie, pulling it loose.
“I’m sorry.”
Blaine shrugged. “I’ve lost a lot of things.”
Kurt was the best of those things.
But he hadn’t really lost him.
He was right here.
The tie fell to the floor without a noise. Kurt’s deft fingers worked at his buttons now, unlooping them without a question for consent. He knew what to do.
They had done this before.
Kurt’s mouth moved softly across his skin, shivers prickling across the same path. He nosed at his jaw, breathing in his aftershave.
He helped Blaine out of his dress shirt at last, his palms smoothing over his bare skin, heating up fast at Kurt’s touch.
Kurt moved around to the front of the chair, straddling his lap. Blaine assisted him in removing his own dress shirt and his heart rate quickened at the sight of the pale skin bared for him. He ached to touch him but Kurt took his hands in his.
“No,” he said firmly, his breath ghosting over his face, their noses nearly pressing together. “This is about you.”
It wasn’t always about Blaine.
He had been called too.
They had always been there once. But due to circumstances they had ended things.
What circumstances? People had asked. People had thought they would be together forever.
Life, Blaine would answer simply. And he would smile privately at what they didn’t know.
Because nothing was ever over. Not really.
Blaine’s head rolled back as Kurt’s lips attached to his neck. Kurt knew about his neck thing. He knew everything about him. He knew what he liked and what he didn’t. He knew his favourite colour, his middle name, his beliefs on everything, the little secrets that he had locked in the little black box of his mind.
He knew how to make him cry.
He knew how to make him scream.
The rain pounded down relentlessly against the window panes and Blaine realised with a start that he was going to miss this place. He was going to miss everything. This chair, the too white furnishings, the constant salt spray tainting the air.
Everything was going to change.
No, Blaine told himself. Not everything.
Not this.
Kurt eventually made his way up his throat, his lips finding Blaine’s and finally kissing him, deep, slow and burning, like a perfect cup of coffee or his morning cigarette.
He needed it.
He wanted it.
He ached for it.
He lost himself to it. His hands tangled in Kurt’s air, keeping him against his lips even as their hips began to move. They had ditched the old hesitance a long time ago and went straight for it, maybe a little messy and out of practice (it had been too long but not long enough, in Blaine’s mind) but hard and good. Kurt made him feel good, even when the rest of his life was shit.
Which was the whole point of these ‘meetings’.
It was the reason he still cried Kurt’s name in his sleep, the reason he never wrote his number down. It was the reason he never went on dates with brunettes and never looked into blue eyes.
There was one thing in his life that was perfect.
And he refused to let anything mess that up.
Their hips picked up pace, their kisses lost under the heat of the friction. Blaine didn’t even know where his hands were but his Kurt’s skin was soft under his fingers and he massaged at it, trying to memorise it until their next meeting.
Like he could forget.
Kurt slipped a hand between them, palming Blaine over his slacks. Blaine bucked into his hand immediately, moaning at the roll of his perfect palm. He clenched his eyes shut, pushing against him hard, once more before coming, Kurt’s name stumbling between his teeth.
Kurt came with him and kissed him lazily when they were both back to themselves.
“You won’t deny me cuddles, will you?” he murmured, winding his arms around Blaine’s neck.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Blaine said quietly. “Not when it’s probably the last time I’ll get to hold you here.”
Kurt stroked his cheek softly. “There’ll be other places…”
Blaine scowled. “None that I’ll be able to afford.”
Kurt shrugged. “You should become a prostitute then. Good pay and you’d be good at it.”
Blaine threw his head back in a sudden bubble of laughter. Oh fuck… Kurt really was something else.
And there was that part of him that still loved him. Achingly, desperately and fully.
But he couldn’t stay it.
He refused to let anything mess this up.