Xра́брость (Courage) Pt 8/8.
Title: Xра́брость (Courage)
Rating: Heavy R.
Status: Pt 8/8 (I'm kinda sad...)
Author Notes: I'm so depressed that this is ending, but, I have some other stories that are in the works that may continue off of this. Happy stories!
By Valentine's Day, things had finally gotten to a good pace. After a nice dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, which left Kurt rather stuffed after sharing his Linda's 7-Layer Fudge Cake with Blaine, they had gone back to Blaine's house in Columbus. He was being such a gentleman, per usual; opening the car door, and closing it, for Kurt. Pulling chairs out for him. Kurt was damn near expecting Blaine to take off his pea coat to cover a puddle of slush before Kurt stepped into it. When at home, however, Blaine was more relaxed. It was like seeing him go from his Dalton uniform to pajamas: the obsessive way Blaine maintained his hair's lockdown had eased, and when one curl decided to break loose, instead of having a mini meltdown in the mirror, Blaine smirked, watching as Kurt giggled while stretching out the curl, watching it spring back from his fingers, refusing to be held back by anything, whether it be excessive amounts of gel or fingers.
Kurt frowned when Blaine had gotten up from the couch that they had slowly made their way over to; every time Kurt went to go do something, Blaine would pull him in for a kiss, varying degrees of passion surging through the kisses. A peck, a french, an open mouth, a kiss on the cheek, a kiss on the neck, alternating until finally Kurt had stumbled onto the couch, Blaine sliding into the seat right next to him, not letting go of the back of his neck. Finally, Kurt had shivered, and not because of Blaine touching him, which was a first. It was actually just pretty damn cold in Blaine's living room, and when Blaine noticed, and went to go stoke a fire, Kurt was angry at his sensory reactions. Stupid goosebumps getting in the way.
Kurt watched as Blaine prepared the flame, stacking the wood just so, crumbling up pieces of paper to stick in the gaps between the wood, and finally striking one rather long match to light one of the paper balls that was jammed between two pieces of wood. Blaine sat and watched, the flame growing until the paper was engulfed. Blaine took the other end of the match and caught the flame, carrying it to the other side of the log, where another piece of paper was stuck, and lit that as well. Soon, the flames connected, and a roaring fire was brought to life. Blaine put the guard back over the fireplace, looking rather smug.
"Don't stretch anything patting yourself on the back."
Blaine sputtered. "And what the hell does THAT mean?"
"Nothing, it's just cute seeing how proud you are of being domestic."
"Kurt, babe, you've seen my room. The fact that you're calling me domestic is a compliment. One that is very undeserved."
Kurt smiled, and patted the empty seat next to him. Blaine smirked, cuddling against Kurt as he settled back into the seat, sweeping a blanket over them. Blaine had never been happier that his parents were out of the country; his mother was helping out his grandmother in the Phillipines, and his father was on a business trip in Munich, Germany. That meant that the house was all to themselves, without a worry in the world.
Kurt was nuzzling his face into Blaine's neck, almost purring, he was that warm and content. He lazily kissed where he had been nuzzling, hearing a low growl in response. Kurt raised an eyebrow. Oh?
"Kurt. You know what even touching my neck does."
"I didn't realize it was that sensitive."
"Only for you."
That phrase, that one phrase, had unexpectedly sent blood rushing from Kurt's head and down into his groin. That possessiveness that he had for his clothes? Didn't even measure up to the possessiveness he had for Blaine and well…what he had packing. It wasn't even about size, it was about skill, and even though Kurt had lost his virginity to Blaine, he knew he was good, and he saw the way that other boys at Dalton had looked at him, hunger in their eyes. He swore he saw one boy even lick his lips, and while Kurt never knocked anyone's fetishes, the fact that he suspected that at least one boy at Dalton had a thing for vore had tweaked him out in the worst way humanly possible. If he could put a flashing neon sign on Blaine's dick, he would, declaring it as the property of one Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, and that all trespassers would be castrated, and then fed their penis back to them in a blender.
Wow, Kurt, that's ONE way to kill a boner quickly.
"Kurt, you ok honey?"
Oh shit, I was doing the internal monologue for too long. Goddamnit, Kurt, you're two for two tonight.
"Yeah, I was just thinking too intensely."
Blaine smirked. "I can feel."
SUCCESS, THE BONER DIDN'T DIE! Is that something to be happy about, considering what I thought of near the end of that? Focus, Kurt.
"Sorry if it's uncomfortable. Just…"
Blaine silenced him with a kiss, just as desperate as their first time, sloppy and urgent and soon, he was on his back, with Kurt straddling him, fluttering light kisses down his neck and back up, moving to the other side, feeling Blaine writhe beneath him, gasping at the almost tickling sensations. Blaine replied with grinding his hips up into Kurt's, hearing the boy whimper, turning the light kisses into tiny sucks at his neck, until finally one hard grind left teeth in skin, and Blaine cried out.
What had happened next was a blur of hands, skin, shirts, pants, and sweat. Before they knew it, their clothes were strewn about the living room, and Kurt was begging to ride Blaine, to feel his cock deep inside of him, owning him, and Kurt claiming his right to Blaine's cock, to be the only one to have it, with Blaine replying with that phrase, that it was only for Kurt, that it was all for him, with fingers in Kurt's mouth, with Kurt gasping into Blaine's mouth as those same fingers pumped into him, stretching him, wetting him, and finally, that shining moment when Kurt felt Blaine enter him, the angle and the stretch so divine, that Kurt swore that he couldn't even describe the color he saw. It was silver, it was white, it was clarity. The beauty of the moment, of strong, guitar-calloused hands on his hip bones, pulling him down, of strong, muscular arms holding him tight, of watching his curls break loose before he himself lost all semblance of control, when they both cried out in ecstatic harmony, it all just made sense. So this was completion. So this was unity. So this…was happiness.
Hours later, as Blaine slept, Kurt slipped out of the house, driving to that cemetery that had started all of this, the cemetery where Mika was buried. He knew exactly where it was, because Blaine had put a Gay American Flag there when Don't Ask, Don't Tell had been revoked, "Because just because you're gay and didn't fight in a war, doesn't mean you didn't die in battle." He walked over carefully to the headstone, grazing his fingers over the ridges that spelled out his name, both in English and Cyrillic. He finally saw the epitaph, and saw "XPAБPOCTЬ" carved there.
Kurt wiped a tear, and whispered to the stone. "Mika, if I'm allowed to call you that…thank you. Thank you for protecting Blaine, even though it meant losing your life. Thank you for standing up for your right to love, when some of were too afraid to. Thank you, for giving Blaine the courage to be honest with who he was. And thank you, because without your gift of love to Blaine, Blaine would never have taught me the courage to stand up for myself, and to love and be loved in return. Happy Valentine's Day."
He sat there for a few moments, when he heard steps behind him. Thinking it was a police officer doing a patrol of the cemeteries, he turned around nervously, but saw only Blaine, still in his pajamas, but with a jacket and scarf on. "I figured I'd find you here."
"Was just wishing Mika Happy Valentine's Day. Figured him and I could chat, see if he'd give me a sign about some things about you that you may be keeping from me." Kurt smirked, and Blaine smiled back. "I'm sure if he was alive, he'd have a crush on you."
"I'd probably have a crush on him too, from the way you described him."
"Come on, Kurt. Let's go home."
A flutter of wings in his stomach, Kurt thought of the idea. Blaine and I, having a home? That'd be…that'd be something.
Blaine held out his hand, and Kurt took it, turning around one last time to thank Mika. A slight glimmer came from the pole of the flag, and Kurt took it as a "You're welcome."
That morning, a sunrise of unusual brightness occurred, splaying light of various colors along Columbus, Ohio. As the sun rose over the cemetery, the drops of snow melting plucked in the distance. A single drop landed on a silver necklace, a pendant that said COURAGE, that hung from a rainbow colored American flag.
---
For those of you who have been reading , your present is below :]
clicky clicky
Rating: Heavy R.
Status: Pt 8/8 (I'm kinda sad...)
Author Notes: I'm so depressed that this is ending, but, I have some other stories that are in the works that may continue off of this. Happy stories!
By Valentine's Day, things had finally gotten to a good pace. After a nice dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, which left Kurt rather stuffed after sharing his Linda's 7-Layer Fudge Cake with Blaine, they had gone back to Blaine's house in Columbus. He was being such a gentleman, per usual; opening the car door, and closing it, for Kurt. Pulling chairs out for him. Kurt was damn near expecting Blaine to take off his pea coat to cover a puddle of slush before Kurt stepped into it. When at home, however, Blaine was more relaxed. It was like seeing him go from his Dalton uniform to pajamas: the obsessive way Blaine maintained his hair's lockdown had eased, and when one curl decided to break loose, instead of having a mini meltdown in the mirror, Blaine smirked, watching as Kurt giggled while stretching out the curl, watching it spring back from his fingers, refusing to be held back by anything, whether it be excessive amounts of gel or fingers.
Kurt frowned when Blaine had gotten up from the couch that they had slowly made their way over to; every time Kurt went to go do something, Blaine would pull him in for a kiss, varying degrees of passion surging through the kisses. A peck, a french, an open mouth, a kiss on the cheek, a kiss on the neck, alternating until finally Kurt had stumbled onto the couch, Blaine sliding into the seat right next to him, not letting go of the back of his neck. Finally, Kurt had shivered, and not because of Blaine touching him, which was a first. It was actually just pretty damn cold in Blaine's living room, and when Blaine noticed, and went to go stoke a fire, Kurt was angry at his sensory reactions. Stupid goosebumps getting in the way.
Kurt watched as Blaine prepared the flame, stacking the wood just so, crumbling up pieces of paper to stick in the gaps between the wood, and finally striking one rather long match to light one of the paper balls that was jammed between two pieces of wood. Blaine sat and watched, the flame growing until the paper was engulfed. Blaine took the other end of the match and caught the flame, carrying it to the other side of the log, where another piece of paper was stuck, and lit that as well. Soon, the flames connected, and a roaring fire was brought to life. Blaine put the guard back over the fireplace, looking rather smug.
"Don't stretch anything patting yourself on the back."
Blaine sputtered. "And what the hell does THAT mean?"
"Nothing, it's just cute seeing how proud you are of being domestic."
"Kurt, babe, you've seen my room. The fact that you're calling me domestic is a compliment. One that is very undeserved."
Kurt smiled, and patted the empty seat next to him. Blaine smirked, cuddling against Kurt as he settled back into the seat, sweeping a blanket over them. Blaine had never been happier that his parents were out of the country; his mother was helping out his grandmother in the Phillipines, and his father was on a business trip in Munich, Germany. That meant that the house was all to themselves, without a worry in the world.
Kurt was nuzzling his face into Blaine's neck, almost purring, he was that warm and content. He lazily kissed where he had been nuzzling, hearing a low growl in response. Kurt raised an eyebrow. Oh?
"Kurt. You know what even touching my neck does."
"I didn't realize it was that sensitive."
"Only for you."
That phrase, that one phrase, had unexpectedly sent blood rushing from Kurt's head and down into his groin. That possessiveness that he had for his clothes? Didn't even measure up to the possessiveness he had for Blaine and well…what he had packing. It wasn't even about size, it was about skill, and even though Kurt had lost his virginity to Blaine, he knew he was good, and he saw the way that other boys at Dalton had looked at him, hunger in their eyes. He swore he saw one boy even lick his lips, and while Kurt never knocked anyone's fetishes, the fact that he suspected that at least one boy at Dalton had a thing for vore had tweaked him out in the worst way humanly possible. If he could put a flashing neon sign on Blaine's dick, he would, declaring it as the property of one Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, and that all trespassers would be castrated, and then fed their penis back to them in a blender.
Wow, Kurt, that's ONE way to kill a boner quickly.
"Kurt, you ok honey?"
Oh shit, I was doing the internal monologue for too long. Goddamnit, Kurt, you're two for two tonight.
"Yeah, I was just thinking too intensely."
Blaine smirked. "I can feel."
SUCCESS, THE BONER DIDN'T DIE! Is that something to be happy about, considering what I thought of near the end of that? Focus, Kurt.
"Sorry if it's uncomfortable. Just…"
Blaine silenced him with a kiss, just as desperate as their first time, sloppy and urgent and soon, he was on his back, with Kurt straddling him, fluttering light kisses down his neck and back up, moving to the other side, feeling Blaine writhe beneath him, gasping at the almost tickling sensations. Blaine replied with grinding his hips up into Kurt's, hearing the boy whimper, turning the light kisses into tiny sucks at his neck, until finally one hard grind left teeth in skin, and Blaine cried out.
What had happened next was a blur of hands, skin, shirts, pants, and sweat. Before they knew it, their clothes were strewn about the living room, and Kurt was begging to ride Blaine, to feel his cock deep inside of him, owning him, and Kurt claiming his right to Blaine's cock, to be the only one to have it, with Blaine replying with that phrase, that it was only for Kurt, that it was all for him, with fingers in Kurt's mouth, with Kurt gasping into Blaine's mouth as those same fingers pumped into him, stretching him, wetting him, and finally, that shining moment when Kurt felt Blaine enter him, the angle and the stretch so divine, that Kurt swore that he couldn't even describe the color he saw. It was silver, it was white, it was clarity. The beauty of the moment, of strong, guitar-calloused hands on his hip bones, pulling him down, of strong, muscular arms holding him tight, of watching his curls break loose before he himself lost all semblance of control, when they both cried out in ecstatic harmony, it all just made sense. So this was completion. So this was unity. So this…was happiness.
Hours later, as Blaine slept, Kurt slipped out of the house, driving to that cemetery that had started all of this, the cemetery where Mika was buried. He knew exactly where it was, because Blaine had put a Gay American Flag there when Don't Ask, Don't Tell had been revoked, "Because just because you're gay and didn't fight in a war, doesn't mean you didn't die in battle." He walked over carefully to the headstone, grazing his fingers over the ridges that spelled out his name, both in English and Cyrillic. He finally saw the epitaph, and saw "XPAБPOCTЬ" carved there.
Kurt wiped a tear, and whispered to the stone. "Mika, if I'm allowed to call you that…thank you. Thank you for protecting Blaine, even though it meant losing your life. Thank you for standing up for your right to love, when some of were too afraid to. Thank you, for giving Blaine the courage to be honest with who he was. And thank you, because without your gift of love to Blaine, Blaine would never have taught me the courage to stand up for myself, and to love and be loved in return. Happy Valentine's Day."
He sat there for a few moments, when he heard steps behind him. Thinking it was a police officer doing a patrol of the cemeteries, he turned around nervously, but saw only Blaine, still in his pajamas, but with a jacket and scarf on. "I figured I'd find you here."
"Was just wishing Mika Happy Valentine's Day. Figured him and I could chat, see if he'd give me a sign about some things about you that you may be keeping from me." Kurt smirked, and Blaine smiled back. "I'm sure if he was alive, he'd have a crush on you."
"I'd probably have a crush on him too, from the way you described him."
"Come on, Kurt. Let's go home."
A flutter of wings in his stomach, Kurt thought of the idea. Blaine and I, having a home? That'd be…that'd be something.
Blaine held out his hand, and Kurt took it, turning around one last time to thank Mika. A slight glimmer came from the pole of the flag, and Kurt took it as a "You're welcome."
That morning, a sunrise of unusual brightness occurred, splaying light of various colors along Columbus, Ohio. As the sun rose over the cemetery, the drops of snow melting plucked in the distance. A single drop landed on a silver necklace, a pendant that said COURAGE, that hung from a rainbow colored American flag.
---
For those of you who have been reading , your present is below :]
clicky clicky