Guilty (one-shot)
Author's note: This is a companion piece to anxioussquirrel's story Dirty Little Secret. Read that FIRST. ;) You may go.
_______________
Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
Blaine feels like he has a blinking neon sign above his head as he bids Kurt goodbye for the last time before their Christmas break. The Warblers had had one final practice - more of a farewell soiree, really - before two weeks off for the holidays. Blaine grits his teeth against the wind and frowns slightly. He knows his parents won't be home for hours, perhaps even after he has turned in for the night, and he’s wondering how he will fill the hours alone with nothing but Kurt in his head.
Ugh, it's so frustrating.
It isn't really Kurt that he wants, he thinks. It is the idea of Kurt. That's what it is. That is all it could be, right? He is a...a mentor to Kurt. A trusted friend. Someone who is like a...an island amid all the craziness that Kurt had endured at McKinley.
This is what Blaine keeps telling himself on his drive back to his big empty house on this cold, snowy evening. But...but his mind keeps slipping quietly back to the duet they shared the day before. The way Kurt had played so coy and basically had flirted his way through the song with him. The way his lips looked when he sang to Blaine.
Blaine shakes his head. Kurt's my friend. It's a physical need thing. He's a boy, I'm a boy who likes boys. That's all it is.
He tries to send the message to his dick, which keeps making itself known when he thinks about the way Kurt's body felt next to him on the couch. Blaine sighs to himself and pulls into the driveway, pushing his thoughts away to focus on getting settled for the night.
***
Hours later Blaine is sitting on his bed, his parents having called to tell him not to wait up as they were at some office or another's Christmas party. He's long since been in his pajamas and his fingertips are hovering over the buttons on his cell phone, waiting for some brain signal to tell them what to type.
He keeps reading the messages Kurt sent.
From: The Amazing Kurt
I changed my name in your cell phone. I thought it suited me better.
From: The Amazing Kurt
You can change it back it you want.
From: The Amazing Kurt
You must be sleeping already.
From: The Amazing Kurt
I just wanted to say good luck on your duet this weekend. You sounded great and I think you will wow everyone there. I hope your partner is half as good as you said I was. Flatterer.
From: The Amazing Kurt
Goodnight, Blaine.
Blaine searches to find some way to respond that doesn’t sound like something out of a cheesy novel.
“No one could sound as good as you.”
“Well, she might flirt with me like you did but I won't like it half as much.”
“Can I just kiss you once and see what it-”
And there it is. The thought that keeps coming back ever since that damned duet. The way Kurt's lips curled around the lyrics of the song and the way he kept dancing just out of Blaine’s reach.
To: The Amazing Kurt
Thanks for the good luck. I wouldn't mind hearing you sing it again, though. Give me a call?
Blaine knows he’s playing with fire. He knows that this won’t help his problem in any way.
He tells himself he just wants to hear his friend sing again. That's all.
He sits, looking at the phone, toes curled under his thighs, waiting.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Maybe Kurt really has gone to-
His cell phone rings. The Amazing Kurt is calling.
Did I really just ask him to sing to me? Blaine thinks as he picks up his phone and presses the green button.
“Hello Kurt,” he breathes, noting the nervous tone his voice has suddenly taken on. Calm down, calm down. Any FRIEND could ask another FRIEND to seren- SING to them on the phone.
“Honestly, Blaine, do you REALLY want me to sing to you?” Kurt asks, his voice tinged with laughter and...nerves? Blaine can't tell.
“Maybe I do,” Blaine replies, inwardly kicking himself for his flirty tone.
Kurt sighs, giggling a little before humming the first few notes of the song lightly before singing softly, “I really can't stay-”
“But baby it's cold outside,” Blaine murmurs.
“I've got to go way,” Kurt sings slowly.
“But baby it's cold outside,” he finds himself replying.
“This evening has been,” Kurt replies, laughing.
“Been hoping that you'd drop in,” Blaine sings back.
That WOULD be nice wouldn- wait. STOP.
“So very nice,” Kurt finishes, laughing uncontrollably now. “Blaine, honestly, my Dad and Carole are going to wonder who I'm singing to up here! You're going to do fine. I promise. Even if it IS with a girl and not with the fabulousness that is me.”
Blaine laughs, knowing for sure that his whole face is red.
“Merry Christmas, Kurt.”
There's silence on the other end, something humming between them like so often seems to happen late at night when it's just their voices and the darkness tying them together, and then Kurt speaks, soft and forceful.
“Merry Christmas, Blaine. I'm so glad to have found you...you're...you're such a great friend.”
They say their goodnights and Blaine finds himself staring at the phone, wondering where this is coming from.
Physical need...that's all it is.
His cock is aching again and this time he is powerless to stop it.
Just this one time. This ONE time he'll do something about it. He couldn't NOT do it. He’s all alone. Kurt will never know. Never.
He folds his sheets down, the mantra “Just this once, he'll never know, just this once, he'll never know...” fighting the litany of “He's your friend, just your friend, this isn't okay, it shouldn't be an issue because you shouldn't be thinking about it,” and winning.
Blaine sits back on the pillows, nestling down comfortably, feeling weightless in the feather bed. His chest is bare and he decides at the last moment to rid himself of his pajama bottoms as well, going with an all-or-nothing approach to this particular moment is necessary.
He starts with his hands ghosting down, fingertips gliding over sensitive nipples, back arching, slowly breaking the tension in the muscles along his stomach. He closes his eyes, quietly contemplating a scene...it's just physical need, that's all. Who cares that it's Kurt...
“Blaine, can I? Can I...?” Kurt's murmuring, his eyes turned to liquid sky as he searches Blaine's for answers.
Blaine groans in his bed, fingertips brushing the creases where his legs meet his hips, making himself wait.
“Yes, Kurt. I...I want you to.”
Kurt groans low in his throat as he reaches out , tentative yet eager, his fingers brushing the head of Blaine's cock, watching, holding his breath.
Blaine bites his lip, fingertips dragging down the smooth skin of his cock, aching for release but holding himself in check. If it's just this one time, I have to...have to make it last he reasons.
Kurt looks up at Blaine, lashes fanned and cheeks pink, his face proud, if unsure, as his fingers encircle Blaine's dick for the first time, stroking once, twice, experimenting with both pressure and speed.
Blaine groans as his hand finally grasps his cock, sliding up and back, finding his rhythm.
“Like this?” Kurt whispers, his eyes impossibly wide, breaths coming in little pants, as he jerks Blaine with precision, thumb swiping and wrist twisting at the height of each motion.
“Yessss,” Blaine breaths into the empty room, eyes sealed shut, lip still trapped, sweat trickling from his hairline. “God, Kurt-”
“Blaine...Blaine...” Kurt moans, never breaking his stride as he moves his other hand down to grip his own erection. Blaine realizes that now they have no clothing whatsoever - a detail he hadn't noticed before - and he watches, rapt, while Kurt's hands sync up, the rhythm of their pleasure identical.
Blaine is whimpering now, not caring where he is, focused solely on his pleasure, on release.
“I'm not just your friend, Blaine,” Kurt rasps, eyes locked, burning, lips scarlet and moving toward Blaine's at an alarming speed. Blaine groans, shaking his head, trying to deny it and failing. Everything he has is building to this heat, gathering and multiplying, aching in his bones.
And there are Kurt's lips, a breath away, brushing his, words flowing out of his mouth and into Blaine's.
“...I'm not just your friend if my lips make you come,” he breathes and then seals them together, trembling hot touch, mouths open and taking, swallowing their moans as they come, sheets wet and limbs shaking.
Blaine opens his eyes after his breathing slows and his body calms, taking care to wipe away the remnants of his release with the washcloth beside the bed.
And then...the guilt. Again.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...
It's just a physical need.
Just a human NEED.
That's what he tells himself as he snuggles, naked, into the sheets.
Kurt will never know. He is safe.
He is safe.
_______________
Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
Blaine feels like he has a blinking neon sign above his head as he bids Kurt goodbye for the last time before their Christmas break. The Warblers had had one final practice - more of a farewell soiree, really - before two weeks off for the holidays. Blaine grits his teeth against the wind and frowns slightly. He knows his parents won't be home for hours, perhaps even after he has turned in for the night, and he’s wondering how he will fill the hours alone with nothing but Kurt in his head.
Ugh, it's so frustrating.
It isn't really Kurt that he wants, he thinks. It is the idea of Kurt. That's what it is. That is all it could be, right? He is a...a mentor to Kurt. A trusted friend. Someone who is like a...an island amid all the craziness that Kurt had endured at McKinley.
This is what Blaine keeps telling himself on his drive back to his big empty house on this cold, snowy evening. But...but his mind keeps slipping quietly back to the duet they shared the day before. The way Kurt had played so coy and basically had flirted his way through the song with him. The way his lips looked when he sang to Blaine.
Blaine shakes his head. Kurt's my friend. It's a physical need thing. He's a boy, I'm a boy who likes boys. That's all it is.
He tries to send the message to his dick, which keeps making itself known when he thinks about the way Kurt's body felt next to him on the couch. Blaine sighs to himself and pulls into the driveway, pushing his thoughts away to focus on getting settled for the night.
***
Hours later Blaine is sitting on his bed, his parents having called to tell him not to wait up as they were at some office or another's Christmas party. He's long since been in his pajamas and his fingertips are hovering over the buttons on his cell phone, waiting for some brain signal to tell them what to type.
He keeps reading the messages Kurt sent.
From: The Amazing Kurt
I changed my name in your cell phone. I thought it suited me better.
From: The Amazing Kurt
You can change it back it you want.
From: The Amazing Kurt
You must be sleeping already.
From: The Amazing Kurt
I just wanted to say good luck on your duet this weekend. You sounded great and I think you will wow everyone there. I hope your partner is half as good as you said I was. Flatterer.
From: The Amazing Kurt
Goodnight, Blaine.
Blaine searches to find some way to respond that doesn’t sound like something out of a cheesy novel.
“No one could sound as good as you.”
“Well, she might flirt with me like you did but I won't like it half as much.”
“Can I just kiss you once and see what it-”
And there it is. The thought that keeps coming back ever since that damned duet. The way Kurt's lips curled around the lyrics of the song and the way he kept dancing just out of Blaine’s reach.
To: The Amazing Kurt
Thanks for the good luck. I wouldn't mind hearing you sing it again, though. Give me a call?
Blaine knows he’s playing with fire. He knows that this won’t help his problem in any way.
He tells himself he just wants to hear his friend sing again. That's all.
He sits, looking at the phone, toes curled under his thighs, waiting.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Maybe Kurt really has gone to-
His cell phone rings. The Amazing Kurt is calling.
Did I really just ask him to sing to me? Blaine thinks as he picks up his phone and presses the green button.
“Hello Kurt,” he breathes, noting the nervous tone his voice has suddenly taken on. Calm down, calm down. Any FRIEND could ask another FRIEND to seren- SING to them on the phone.
“Honestly, Blaine, do you REALLY want me to sing to you?” Kurt asks, his voice tinged with laughter and...nerves? Blaine can't tell.
“Maybe I do,” Blaine replies, inwardly kicking himself for his flirty tone.
Kurt sighs, giggling a little before humming the first few notes of the song lightly before singing softly, “I really can't stay-”
“But baby it's cold outside,” Blaine murmurs.
“I've got to go way,” Kurt sings slowly.
“But baby it's cold outside,” he finds himself replying.
“This evening has been,” Kurt replies, laughing.
“Been hoping that you'd drop in,” Blaine sings back.
That WOULD be nice wouldn- wait. STOP.
“So very nice,” Kurt finishes, laughing uncontrollably now. “Blaine, honestly, my Dad and Carole are going to wonder who I'm singing to up here! You're going to do fine. I promise. Even if it IS with a girl and not with the fabulousness that is me.”
Blaine laughs, knowing for sure that his whole face is red.
“Merry Christmas, Kurt.”
There's silence on the other end, something humming between them like so often seems to happen late at night when it's just their voices and the darkness tying them together, and then Kurt speaks, soft and forceful.
“Merry Christmas, Blaine. I'm so glad to have found you...you're...you're such a great friend.”
They say their goodnights and Blaine finds himself staring at the phone, wondering where this is coming from.
Physical need...that's all it is.
His cock is aching again and this time he is powerless to stop it.
Just this one time. This ONE time he'll do something about it. He couldn't NOT do it. He’s all alone. Kurt will never know. Never.
He folds his sheets down, the mantra “Just this once, he'll never know, just this once, he'll never know...” fighting the litany of “He's your friend, just your friend, this isn't okay, it shouldn't be an issue because you shouldn't be thinking about it,” and winning.
Blaine sits back on the pillows, nestling down comfortably, feeling weightless in the feather bed. His chest is bare and he decides at the last moment to rid himself of his pajama bottoms as well, going with an all-or-nothing approach to this particular moment is necessary.
He starts with his hands ghosting down, fingertips gliding over sensitive nipples, back arching, slowly breaking the tension in the muscles along his stomach. He closes his eyes, quietly contemplating a scene...it's just physical need, that's all. Who cares that it's Kurt...
“Blaine, can I? Can I...?” Kurt's murmuring, his eyes turned to liquid sky as he searches Blaine's for answers.
Blaine groans in his bed, fingertips brushing the creases where his legs meet his hips, making himself wait.
“Yes, Kurt. I...I want you to.”
Kurt groans low in his throat as he reaches out , tentative yet eager, his fingers brushing the head of Blaine's cock, watching, holding his breath.
Blaine bites his lip, fingertips dragging down the smooth skin of his cock, aching for release but holding himself in check. If it's just this one time, I have to...have to make it last he reasons.
Kurt looks up at Blaine, lashes fanned and cheeks pink, his face proud, if unsure, as his fingers encircle Blaine's dick for the first time, stroking once, twice, experimenting with both pressure and speed.
Blaine groans as his hand finally grasps his cock, sliding up and back, finding his rhythm.
“Like this?” Kurt whispers, his eyes impossibly wide, breaths coming in little pants, as he jerks Blaine with precision, thumb swiping and wrist twisting at the height of each motion.
“Yessss,” Blaine breaths into the empty room, eyes sealed shut, lip still trapped, sweat trickling from his hairline. “God, Kurt-”
“Blaine...Blaine...” Kurt moans, never breaking his stride as he moves his other hand down to grip his own erection. Blaine realizes that now they have no clothing whatsoever - a detail he hadn't noticed before - and he watches, rapt, while Kurt's hands sync up, the rhythm of their pleasure identical.
Blaine is whimpering now, not caring where he is, focused solely on his pleasure, on release.
“I'm not just your friend, Blaine,” Kurt rasps, eyes locked, burning, lips scarlet and moving toward Blaine's at an alarming speed. Blaine groans, shaking his head, trying to deny it and failing. Everything he has is building to this heat, gathering and multiplying, aching in his bones.
And there are Kurt's lips, a breath away, brushing his, words flowing out of his mouth and into Blaine's.
“...I'm not just your friend if my lips make you come,” he breathes and then seals them together, trembling hot touch, mouths open and taking, swallowing their moans as they come, sheets wet and limbs shaking.
Blaine opens his eyes after his breathing slows and his body calms, taking care to wipe away the remnants of his release with the washcloth beside the bed.
And then...the guilt. Again.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...
It's just a physical need.
Just a human NEED.
That's what he tells himself as he snuggles, naked, into the sheets.
Kurt will never know. He is safe.
He is safe.