(no subject)
Title - Composure
Pairing - Klaine (Glee)
Word Count - 2,602
Warnings - pwp, explicit sex, anal
Summary - When Kurt had told Blaine that he rode horses, he hadn’t mentioned that he was a goddamn cowboy. Things get hot and heavy after Blaine watches his boyfriend's show.
Author's Note - This is porn. No other way to say it.
Kurt was dressed in blue, washed denim and a sequined dress shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, baby blue cowboy boots and a navy wide-brimmed cowboy hat worn jauntily on his head that shimmered iridescently in the sunlight. The overall impression was one of an oil slick, with rainbows caught in the sequins and the hat and his hair gleaming, eyes big and wet and dark.
“You… you look amazing.” Blaine’s breath caught, and he forgot the dust and chaos and heat of the showgrounds and couldn’t stop openly staring at Kurt, who flushed but didn’t lower his eyes, smiling playfully.
“Think I can win the judges over with my designer boots? They’re Dior.” he said and moved with confident strides to Blaine’s side, and they began to cross the yard together.
When Kurt had told Blaine that he rode horses, he hadn’t mentioned that he was a goddamn cowboy. Blaine had expected him to ride in knee-high boots and tan breeches and red suede jackets, all polished and proper and stiff.
Blaine’s family had owned horses once, and he’d grown up with the cool, composed hunter ponies and the straight-laced dressage riders, everything controlled and guarded. That was how Blaine had learned to ride, taught to check back and always remain the master, to guide and correct and keep up a calm front no matter the situation. Horses can sense fear, after all, his instructor always said. Don’t let him get the best of you.
And now that he thought about, it wasn’t that much of a surprise that Kurt rode Western, after all.
“You run barrels?” Blaine asked. It sounded crazy and reckless and a little bit scary, and Kurt smirked and leaned against the fence line, squinting into the sun.
“Pole-bending, too. And roping sometimes.” A few competitors were practicing in the wide, sand arena, loping in wide circles and going through the motions. “I should be warming up,” Kurt said, and Blaine nodded, swallowing as he looked his way and smirked again, arching a dark eyebrow. “You want to see how a real cowboy rides?”
Kurt’s horse was stocky and pale gold, and its coat and tack gleamed with care. Blaine couldn’t remember its name, could only see Kurt as he swung up easily into the saddle from the ground, settling with the reins held in one hand as he guided the horse into the ring. Blaine stood with his palms digging into the rough wood of the fence as he encouraged the horse to pick up a jog. It moved at an even pace, head low, and Kurt’s body moved with its rhythm, sinewy and fluid. They circled the ring once, twice, and then doubled back and switched directions, the horse maintaining its pace but obviously agitated, knowing that this was just practice and waiting for the moment when it would be let loose.
With a low cluck, Kurt urged the horse into a lope, but even that was slow and unhurried, building tempo slowly, hooves pounding. Blaine’s heart was racing in sync, his stomach fluttering as Kurt turned in a sharp circle, the horse’s legs churning the sand into dust that rose and clouded the air. It was excited now, head higher and mouth working the bit, and as Blaine watched, it rose into an excited half-buck, hind legs lashing out at the air. Kurt followed the movement and laughed, reaching up hurriedly to keep his hat from falling off.
“Whoa, boy!” he said, and the horse immediately slid to a halt not far from Blaine, nostrils flaring. “Aw, isn’t he adorable when he gets excited, Blaine?” Blaine nodded, mouth dry, not just from the dust in the air. “What time is it?”
“One,” he managed to get out after checking his phone, finding it difficult to look away from Kurt even for that short amount of time.
“Crap, barrels start in a few minutes… Why don’t you go wait with Dad and Finn? They’ll probably be in the stands by now.”
“Yeah,” Blaine said and adjusted his pants, hoping that no one would notice that he was half-hard. Hands in his pockets, he headed back towards the stands and the little concession stand where most of the spectators had congregated. He was reluctant to have Kurt out of his sight for even a moment, and he almost walked into people more than once as he glanced back to see where Kurt was.
Burt and Finn were chowing down on nachos when he got there, and he sat down beside them on the weathered wood bench and found his eyes glued to Kurt again, who was waiting outside the ring now, his mount side-stepping anxiously.
“Want some nachos?” Finn said with his mouth full, but Blaine just shook his head and watched.
“You ever seen my son ride before?” Burt asked, adjusting the cowboy hat on his head.
“No, sir,” Blaine said.
“He’s a real natural, unlike me.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “His mother… she used to take me on trail rides when we first met. The first time I got on a horse, it decided it wanted to go home early and tossed me off like a sack of potatoes. But he was always real good with horses, even when he was a little kid. He learned everything he knows from her.”
“He rides very well, Mr. Hummel.”
“Call me, Burt, kid.”
A buzzer sounded then, and the first competitor was out of the gate and off, galloping down the stretch of arena and then ducking swiftly to turn around the first barrel, moving through the traditional clover pattern with a jerky speed that had his rider knocking the last barrel over with his knee. The audience let out a collective groan.
“Kurt’s next,” Finn said, and Blaine perked up, watching Kurt’s horse move through the crowd and to the gate, composed but tense with energy that could spark at any moment. Even from a distance, Blaine could see the confidence that his boyfriend oozed, and he both envied and admired it. A heavy feeling curled in his belly when Kurt looked up suddenly and caught his eye, flushing.
And then, the buzzer sounded.
The horse was off so quickly, Blaine wondered if Kurt was ready for it, but he just leaned forward over the saddle and checked the horse back just enough so that he could clear the first barrel, diving around it in a great plume of dirt. They crossed to the second barrel, all muscles and shine, and the heat of the sun bore down on the back of Blaine’s neck as he watched. The dust was everywhere now as they circled the last barrel, and then, Kurt clucked and thumped his legs and the horse raced home.
Blaine didn’t watch the next competitors, slipping out of the stands. He arrived on the other side of the ring just as Kurt was tying his horse to a hitching post, frowning.
“I screwed that up, Blaine. I was too far to the left on the second barrel, and that really lost me time, I think…”
“You did fantastic,” Blaine said, breathless. “So, so fantastic.”
Kurt gave him an odd look and then noticed his wide-blown pupils and how hard he was breathing, saw the flush across his cheeks and the bulge in his jeans. His eyes widened.
“You-“
“Can we go somewhere private? Please?” Kurt swallowed hard and took Blaine’s hand, leading him back towards the stands. They went around the back of the concession stand and into the hot dark of the single occupant handicapped bathroom. It didn’t smell the greatest, but it was private and quiet and just what Blaine had been waiting for all day. He was on Kurt the moment that he shut the door behind them, pressing him against the wall.
“You are driving me insane,” he gasped, kissing Kurt’s pale neck. It tasted like sweat and dirt, and he could feel the muscles of Kurt's throat move as he swallowed, and Blaine groaned out loud, palming his own dick through his pants.
“Didn’t know you were into Brokeback Mountain.” Kurt was breathing hard now, too, his head tipped back against the door, and Blaine took a moment to just pant against his neck, feeling the hard firmness of their bodies pressed together. The heat was oppressive, overly humid, and Blaine leaned back to shimmy out of his white t-shirt and toss it to the floor. His fingers moved to the buttons of Kurt’s shirt, but they were swatted away before he’d gotten more than one undone.
“No, no, do you know how filthy this bathroom is? I am not going to have my clothes anywhere near that floor. Everything stays on.”
“But-“
“You’re smart, Blaine,” Kurt said, and Blaine could just barely see his eyes in the dark, liquid and lusty and so hot it hurt. “Figure something out.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
He spoke without thinking but knew it was true the moment that Kurt groaned and let his head fall back against the door with a light thump, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. Kurt’s hands settled on his hips, rougher than usual, rubbing up along the curve of bone with callused thumbs.
“Well,” he whispered, and that smooth, calm voice made Blaine shudder, so close to losing control. “You better strip then.”
Blaine obeyed, tugging down his jeans and boxers and kicking them into the corner with little regard for where they went, and his erection rubbed painfully against the rough denim of Kurt’s jeans as he pressed back against him. He hissed and pressed his forehead against Kurt’s shoulder as one of Kurt’s hands moved back to cup his ass, pressing in firmly and rubbing up his lower back then back down again.
“Kurt, please, I-“
“Shhh.”
Kurt smelled like horse sweat and leather, and his touch was as confident and fluid as his riding, reversing their positions with a move that left Blaine’s head spinning, back arched against the door he was now pressed against. Gone were the perfumes and elegant clothes and school boy coyness that Blaine had fallen in love with. This was a new Kurt, one who wasn’t afraid to get dirty and wore designer cowboy hats cocked sideways on his head and rode horses hard and fast and made Blaine feel like a dirty whore, wanting to be fucked in a concession stand bathroom, needing to be fucked.
“God, Kurt,” he groaned and thrust his hips, Kurt’s thumbs stroking his stomach, muscles twitching under the touch, and then, Kurt was kissing him, closed mouth and hard. Blaine kissed back, a small desperate sound escaping him as he tried to rut up against Kurt’s leg but was held back against the wall with no relief.
“Don’t ruin my pants,” Kurt whispered and kissed his jaw, fingers digging hard into his hips to keep him still. “I’ve still got to go back out there.”
“Please, Kurt, I need-Now.”
He saw Kurt swallow, his hands trembling as he moved one hand from Blaine to pop the button on his pants and bring down his fly, maneuvering so that Blaine only caught a glimpse of his dick before they were pressed flush and Kurt was working a finger into Blaine’s ass.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned and tensed around the finger. He couldn’t catch his breath, the air too heavy and the room too hot, and Kurt’s mouth was on his neck and then his collar bone, tongue flicking out to wet a trail along his skin. He felt entirely vulnerable and out of control in a way that both terrified and excited him, and Kurt slipped another finger inside, stretching, curling. It was just a bit too dry and too rough, but he needed it, oh god, he needed it. He couldn’t stop whispering Kurt’s name intermingled with curse words.
The fingers pulled out, but then Kurt had them pressed up against Blaine’s parted lips. Blaine let them inside and tasted himself on them, tongue lapping over them and feeling himself grow hotter, harder, his eyes closed tight against the building need.
There was no lube but this, and Blaine heard more than saw Kurt slicking himself with his spit, his own dick twitching where it was pressed between their stomachs, harder than he’d ever been, more tightly wound than he thought was possible.
“Kurt,” he groaned, because things were moving too slowly and his body was throbbing, and then Kurt leaned in farther and shifted up and he was pressing in, burning as he did so, a hot, painful stretch that seemed to last forever, that felt as though he was pushing a part of Blaine up and out of his body, the pain very real and the pleasure immense. “Please, please, please.”
“I’m hurting you?” Kurt whispered, and he kissed the tears that leaked from Blaine’s eyes away, still pushing in and then resting balls deep.
“No,” Blaine shook his head and pressed their foreheads together, hands trembling as he moved them to Kurt’s face, swallowing his jaw and caressing his cheekbones. “No, keep going. Please, just-“
Kurt kept going.
He pulled out to the head and then sunk in again, moving slow and then faster, smooth and then jerky. Every time that Blaine knew he was seconds from the edge, the pace changed again, slackening or evening out and then ratcheting up again, their harsh breathing mingled. His cock rubbed and leaked against the hard muscle of Kurt’s stomach, his shirt riding up, and his legs threatened to give out.
Kurt thrust up at a new angle, and Blaine’s legs did give out, saved from collapsing only as Kurt hoisted him up and grabbed him behind his knees, pressed against the door with legs wrapped around Kurt’s back and heels digging into his ass. Blaine moaned and let himself be fucked, unafraid of falling.
“Little whore,” Kurt whispered hotly in his ear and giggled, and even that was too much, even that tightened the coil in his gut and made him press down against every thrust. “Love this don’t you?”
“Yes,” Blaine breathed and bit his lip as Kurt’s rhythm grew less controlled and more forceful, his hips rolling up against his and back down again with less liquid grace every time. They were both breathing too hard to speak now, panting, and Kurt groaned low in his throat, a deeper low than Blaine thought possible and that was it. Blaine came against their stomachs, his whole body tightening and then relaxing, slipping a fair distance down the door as Kurt lost his grip for a moment and almost dropped him, thrusting up a few last jerky times before he finished as well, coming deep inside of him.
“Shit,” Kurt gasped and trembled all over from exertion, his cheek pressed to Blaine’s sticky bare shoulder and his mouth open, fighting for breath. “That was-“
“Y-yeah.” Gradually, Blaine managed to extricate himself from Kurt’s arms so he was standing again on wobbly legs, braced against the door to remain standing. He felt drained and satisfied, and he sighed as Kurt leaned back in and pulled him into an embrace, resting his head on his boyfriend’s clothed shoulder. “It was.”
“You do realize,” Kurt said, dazed and smiling crookedly. “That we’re doing this again.” Blaine realized absently that he was still wearing his cowboy hat, knocked crazily askew and managed a dry chuckle, kissing him on the lips.
“You’ve got that right, cowboy.”
Pairing - Klaine (Glee)
Word Count - 2,602
Warnings - pwp, explicit sex, anal
Summary - When Kurt had told Blaine that he rode horses, he hadn’t mentioned that he was a goddamn cowboy. Things get hot and heavy after Blaine watches his boyfriend's show.
Author's Note - This is porn. No other way to say it.
Kurt was dressed in blue, washed denim and a sequined dress shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, baby blue cowboy boots and a navy wide-brimmed cowboy hat worn jauntily on his head that shimmered iridescently in the sunlight. The overall impression was one of an oil slick, with rainbows caught in the sequins and the hat and his hair gleaming, eyes big and wet and dark.
“You… you look amazing.” Blaine’s breath caught, and he forgot the dust and chaos and heat of the showgrounds and couldn’t stop openly staring at Kurt, who flushed but didn’t lower his eyes, smiling playfully.
“Think I can win the judges over with my designer boots? They’re Dior.” he said and moved with confident strides to Blaine’s side, and they began to cross the yard together.
When Kurt had told Blaine that he rode horses, he hadn’t mentioned that he was a goddamn cowboy. Blaine had expected him to ride in knee-high boots and tan breeches and red suede jackets, all polished and proper and stiff.
Blaine’s family had owned horses once, and he’d grown up with the cool, composed hunter ponies and the straight-laced dressage riders, everything controlled and guarded. That was how Blaine had learned to ride, taught to check back and always remain the master, to guide and correct and keep up a calm front no matter the situation. Horses can sense fear, after all, his instructor always said. Don’t let him get the best of you.
And now that he thought about, it wasn’t that much of a surprise that Kurt rode Western, after all.
“You run barrels?” Blaine asked. It sounded crazy and reckless and a little bit scary, and Kurt smirked and leaned against the fence line, squinting into the sun.
“Pole-bending, too. And roping sometimes.” A few competitors were practicing in the wide, sand arena, loping in wide circles and going through the motions. “I should be warming up,” Kurt said, and Blaine nodded, swallowing as he looked his way and smirked again, arching a dark eyebrow. “You want to see how a real cowboy rides?”
Kurt’s horse was stocky and pale gold, and its coat and tack gleamed with care. Blaine couldn’t remember its name, could only see Kurt as he swung up easily into the saddle from the ground, settling with the reins held in one hand as he guided the horse into the ring. Blaine stood with his palms digging into the rough wood of the fence as he encouraged the horse to pick up a jog. It moved at an even pace, head low, and Kurt’s body moved with its rhythm, sinewy and fluid. They circled the ring once, twice, and then doubled back and switched directions, the horse maintaining its pace but obviously agitated, knowing that this was just practice and waiting for the moment when it would be let loose.
With a low cluck, Kurt urged the horse into a lope, but even that was slow and unhurried, building tempo slowly, hooves pounding. Blaine’s heart was racing in sync, his stomach fluttering as Kurt turned in a sharp circle, the horse’s legs churning the sand into dust that rose and clouded the air. It was excited now, head higher and mouth working the bit, and as Blaine watched, it rose into an excited half-buck, hind legs lashing out at the air. Kurt followed the movement and laughed, reaching up hurriedly to keep his hat from falling off.
“Whoa, boy!” he said, and the horse immediately slid to a halt not far from Blaine, nostrils flaring. “Aw, isn’t he adorable when he gets excited, Blaine?” Blaine nodded, mouth dry, not just from the dust in the air. “What time is it?”
“One,” he managed to get out after checking his phone, finding it difficult to look away from Kurt even for that short amount of time.
“Crap, barrels start in a few minutes… Why don’t you go wait with Dad and Finn? They’ll probably be in the stands by now.”
“Yeah,” Blaine said and adjusted his pants, hoping that no one would notice that he was half-hard. Hands in his pockets, he headed back towards the stands and the little concession stand where most of the spectators had congregated. He was reluctant to have Kurt out of his sight for even a moment, and he almost walked into people more than once as he glanced back to see where Kurt was.
Burt and Finn were chowing down on nachos when he got there, and he sat down beside them on the weathered wood bench and found his eyes glued to Kurt again, who was waiting outside the ring now, his mount side-stepping anxiously.
“Want some nachos?” Finn said with his mouth full, but Blaine just shook his head and watched.
“You ever seen my son ride before?” Burt asked, adjusting the cowboy hat on his head.
“No, sir,” Blaine said.
“He’s a real natural, unlike me.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “His mother… she used to take me on trail rides when we first met. The first time I got on a horse, it decided it wanted to go home early and tossed me off like a sack of potatoes. But he was always real good with horses, even when he was a little kid. He learned everything he knows from her.”
“He rides very well, Mr. Hummel.”
“Call me, Burt, kid.”
A buzzer sounded then, and the first competitor was out of the gate and off, galloping down the stretch of arena and then ducking swiftly to turn around the first barrel, moving through the traditional clover pattern with a jerky speed that had his rider knocking the last barrel over with his knee. The audience let out a collective groan.
“Kurt’s next,” Finn said, and Blaine perked up, watching Kurt’s horse move through the crowd and to the gate, composed but tense with energy that could spark at any moment. Even from a distance, Blaine could see the confidence that his boyfriend oozed, and he both envied and admired it. A heavy feeling curled in his belly when Kurt looked up suddenly and caught his eye, flushing.
And then, the buzzer sounded.
The horse was off so quickly, Blaine wondered if Kurt was ready for it, but he just leaned forward over the saddle and checked the horse back just enough so that he could clear the first barrel, diving around it in a great plume of dirt. They crossed to the second barrel, all muscles and shine, and the heat of the sun bore down on the back of Blaine’s neck as he watched. The dust was everywhere now as they circled the last barrel, and then, Kurt clucked and thumped his legs and the horse raced home.
Blaine didn’t watch the next competitors, slipping out of the stands. He arrived on the other side of the ring just as Kurt was tying his horse to a hitching post, frowning.
“I screwed that up, Blaine. I was too far to the left on the second barrel, and that really lost me time, I think…”
“You did fantastic,” Blaine said, breathless. “So, so fantastic.”
Kurt gave him an odd look and then noticed his wide-blown pupils and how hard he was breathing, saw the flush across his cheeks and the bulge in his jeans. His eyes widened.
“You-“
“Can we go somewhere private? Please?” Kurt swallowed hard and took Blaine’s hand, leading him back towards the stands. They went around the back of the concession stand and into the hot dark of the single occupant handicapped bathroom. It didn’t smell the greatest, but it was private and quiet and just what Blaine had been waiting for all day. He was on Kurt the moment that he shut the door behind them, pressing him against the wall.
“You are driving me insane,” he gasped, kissing Kurt’s pale neck. It tasted like sweat and dirt, and he could feel the muscles of Kurt's throat move as he swallowed, and Blaine groaned out loud, palming his own dick through his pants.
“Didn’t know you were into Brokeback Mountain.” Kurt was breathing hard now, too, his head tipped back against the door, and Blaine took a moment to just pant against his neck, feeling the hard firmness of their bodies pressed together. The heat was oppressive, overly humid, and Blaine leaned back to shimmy out of his white t-shirt and toss it to the floor. His fingers moved to the buttons of Kurt’s shirt, but they were swatted away before he’d gotten more than one undone.
“No, no, do you know how filthy this bathroom is? I am not going to have my clothes anywhere near that floor. Everything stays on.”
“But-“
“You’re smart, Blaine,” Kurt said, and Blaine could just barely see his eyes in the dark, liquid and lusty and so hot it hurt. “Figure something out.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
He spoke without thinking but knew it was true the moment that Kurt groaned and let his head fall back against the door with a light thump, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. Kurt’s hands settled on his hips, rougher than usual, rubbing up along the curve of bone with callused thumbs.
“Well,” he whispered, and that smooth, calm voice made Blaine shudder, so close to losing control. “You better strip then.”
Blaine obeyed, tugging down his jeans and boxers and kicking them into the corner with little regard for where they went, and his erection rubbed painfully against the rough denim of Kurt’s jeans as he pressed back against him. He hissed and pressed his forehead against Kurt’s shoulder as one of Kurt’s hands moved back to cup his ass, pressing in firmly and rubbing up his lower back then back down again.
“Kurt, please, I-“
“Shhh.”
Kurt smelled like horse sweat and leather, and his touch was as confident and fluid as his riding, reversing their positions with a move that left Blaine’s head spinning, back arched against the door he was now pressed against. Gone were the perfumes and elegant clothes and school boy coyness that Blaine had fallen in love with. This was a new Kurt, one who wasn’t afraid to get dirty and wore designer cowboy hats cocked sideways on his head and rode horses hard and fast and made Blaine feel like a dirty whore, wanting to be fucked in a concession stand bathroom, needing to be fucked.
“God, Kurt,” he groaned and thrust his hips, Kurt’s thumbs stroking his stomach, muscles twitching under the touch, and then, Kurt was kissing him, closed mouth and hard. Blaine kissed back, a small desperate sound escaping him as he tried to rut up against Kurt’s leg but was held back against the wall with no relief.
“Don’t ruin my pants,” Kurt whispered and kissed his jaw, fingers digging hard into his hips to keep him still. “I’ve still got to go back out there.”
“Please, Kurt, I need-Now.”
He saw Kurt swallow, his hands trembling as he moved one hand from Blaine to pop the button on his pants and bring down his fly, maneuvering so that Blaine only caught a glimpse of his dick before they were pressed flush and Kurt was working a finger into Blaine’s ass.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned and tensed around the finger. He couldn’t catch his breath, the air too heavy and the room too hot, and Kurt’s mouth was on his neck and then his collar bone, tongue flicking out to wet a trail along his skin. He felt entirely vulnerable and out of control in a way that both terrified and excited him, and Kurt slipped another finger inside, stretching, curling. It was just a bit too dry and too rough, but he needed it, oh god, he needed it. He couldn’t stop whispering Kurt’s name intermingled with curse words.
The fingers pulled out, but then Kurt had them pressed up against Blaine’s parted lips. Blaine let them inside and tasted himself on them, tongue lapping over them and feeling himself grow hotter, harder, his eyes closed tight against the building need.
There was no lube but this, and Blaine heard more than saw Kurt slicking himself with his spit, his own dick twitching where it was pressed between their stomachs, harder than he’d ever been, more tightly wound than he thought was possible.
“Kurt,” he groaned, because things were moving too slowly and his body was throbbing, and then Kurt leaned in farther and shifted up and he was pressing in, burning as he did so, a hot, painful stretch that seemed to last forever, that felt as though he was pushing a part of Blaine up and out of his body, the pain very real and the pleasure immense. “Please, please, please.”
“I’m hurting you?” Kurt whispered, and he kissed the tears that leaked from Blaine’s eyes away, still pushing in and then resting balls deep.
“No,” Blaine shook his head and pressed their foreheads together, hands trembling as he moved them to Kurt’s face, swallowing his jaw and caressing his cheekbones. “No, keep going. Please, just-“
Kurt kept going.
He pulled out to the head and then sunk in again, moving slow and then faster, smooth and then jerky. Every time that Blaine knew he was seconds from the edge, the pace changed again, slackening or evening out and then ratcheting up again, their harsh breathing mingled. His cock rubbed and leaked against the hard muscle of Kurt’s stomach, his shirt riding up, and his legs threatened to give out.
Kurt thrust up at a new angle, and Blaine’s legs did give out, saved from collapsing only as Kurt hoisted him up and grabbed him behind his knees, pressed against the door with legs wrapped around Kurt’s back and heels digging into his ass. Blaine moaned and let himself be fucked, unafraid of falling.
“Little whore,” Kurt whispered hotly in his ear and giggled, and even that was too much, even that tightened the coil in his gut and made him press down against every thrust. “Love this don’t you?”
“Yes,” Blaine breathed and bit his lip as Kurt’s rhythm grew less controlled and more forceful, his hips rolling up against his and back down again with less liquid grace every time. They were both breathing too hard to speak now, panting, and Kurt groaned low in his throat, a deeper low than Blaine thought possible and that was it. Blaine came against their stomachs, his whole body tightening and then relaxing, slipping a fair distance down the door as Kurt lost his grip for a moment and almost dropped him, thrusting up a few last jerky times before he finished as well, coming deep inside of him.
“Shit,” Kurt gasped and trembled all over from exertion, his cheek pressed to Blaine’s sticky bare shoulder and his mouth open, fighting for breath. “That was-“
“Y-yeah.” Gradually, Blaine managed to extricate himself from Kurt’s arms so he was standing again on wobbly legs, braced against the door to remain standing. He felt drained and satisfied, and he sighed as Kurt leaned back in and pulled him into an embrace, resting his head on his boyfriend’s clothed shoulder. “It was.”
“You do realize,” Kurt said, dazed and smiling crookedly. “That we’re doing this again.” Blaine realized absently that he was still wearing his cowboy hat, knocked crazily askew and managed a dry chuckle, kissing him on the lips.
“You’ve got that right, cowboy.”