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26, Melbourne, Gleek, Klainer, Fic-writer...okay, Smut-writer. Scientist. Nerd. Lover. Fighter. Starkid. Whovian.

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Fic: Platonic (Chapter 10)

Fic: Platonic (Chapter 10/14+Epilogue)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: To be lost in amazement at the love and friendship and intimacy, unable to leave each other’s sight, is to be soul mates. These are people who pass their whole lives together. Except for Kurt and Blaine, they missed their first chance and by the time they get their second, perhaps it is simply meant to be…platonic.
Words: 26940/39432
A/N: Thanks again to all the helpers on this fic!! Spinmybowtie for reading and rereading and getting my sentences into reasonable shape. Thedorkmark for moral support for the eight months this has been half written. Stut—ter for reading through the start and reassuring me it was good. Becca for the law and university know-how. Not much to say about the fic at this point…just keep reading, keep enjoying. Thank you to everyone who is sending me messages or reviewing or reblogging or whatever!! 

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Chapter One 
Chapter Two 
Chapter Three 
Chapter Four 
Chapter Five 
Chapter Six 
Chapter Seven 
Chapter Eight 
Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

 “Can I—“ Blaine stutters it out and then stops because his voice has died in his throat and he’s looking at Kurt incredulously, allowing himself a long moment to drink in the vision of him in skin-hugging jeans and nothing else. With messed up hair and pink cheeks and red lips and stubble. Broad shoulders and pale skin and the prettiest pink nipples Blaine thinks he has ever seen.

He doesn’t quite know how to put into words how badly he wants to fuck him, or why he’s so desperate, or how hard he’s fighting the instinct to crawl across the counter.

Somehow, he manages to get his legs to work, stepping around to where Kurt’s leaning and watching him with a smile once more, eyes dancing when he lets his gaze slip down Blaine’s body to his ridiculous boxer briefs.

Then Blaine has him pressed up against the kitchen counter and is holding him tightly by the hips and kissing him, and it’s no longer lazy. It’s desperate and owning and rough and Kurt loves it.

Kurt moans into it, thinking he’s about to be thrown on the bed and fucked like he needs to be. He still wants to be able to feel it six months from now when he’s stuck in London and god knows how lonely. So he kisses Blaine back and loops his arms around Blaine’s neck. He gasps into the kiss when Blaine’s hands start to lift him and he thinks, for a moment, that he’s going to be pushed back onto another kitchen surface, but instead Blaine just lifts and pulls him forward. Through the heat in his mind, Kurt realizes, with a start, that Blaine can carry him and moans as his legs wrap too easily around Blaine’s hips.

Blaine stumbles to the bedroom and Kurt doesn’t open his eyes for a second. Instead, he revels in the feel of hard, strong, perfect under him and the smell of Blaine’s neck where he’s already sweated so much tonight, and then at the taste as he licks and sucks some more.

Kurt doesn’t open his eyes until he’s falling through the air and thinking, for just the smallest of moments, that Blaine has dropped him. But then his eyes are snapping open and Blaine’s crawling over him and there’s soft, warped cotton beneath him.

Blaine’s bedroom. Blues and reds and a bookcase full to overflowing. Cupboards and a dresser and paintings on the wall that Kurt knows immediately are Monet prints. He catches a glimpse of a white ceiling and then Blaine is trying to clamour back over him and kiss him again, but Kurt wriggles free and up onto his knees, surveying the bed he’s been thrown on.

Dark red sheets and an off-white duvet crumpled at the end, black pillows thrown around and he remarks, “You didn’t make the bed.”

Beside him, Blaine is kicking his underwear off, flinging them towards the still open door and then rolling, naked, onto his stomach. “I never make the bed,” he says, and Kurt laughs as he tries hard not to stare at the perfect swell of Blaine’s ass.

Except then he has his hands there, cupping the muscles and kneading and feeling his mouth flood and his dick twitch. Blaine catches him by the wrist and pulls him down, kissing him as he stretches a hand under the pillows and pulls out last night’s boxers, flinging them at the door. Kurt sees him do it and raises a judging eyebrow.

“In what universe—” Blaine manages to get over him, straddling his hips and kissing across a nipple. “Was I meant— He pauses to flick his tongue out over the other. “To think I’d have you in my bed tonight?” he finishes, kissing Kurt’s chin and then his mouth, not really wanting an answer.

“Would you have made the bed?” Kurt asks, hands between them, teasing at Blaine’s cock on the way to undoing his own jeans and trying to wriggle out of them.

“Kurt.” Blaine moves above him, resting on his elbows, saying his name like that. “I would have bought expensive sheets and candles and… and more mature underwear.”

“I kind of love you underwear,” Kurt laughs, and Blaine brushes the hair back off his forehead. “This is nice,” Kurt tells him. “This is kind of perfect.”

He doesn’t expect Blaine’s face to fall or the crease between his eyes to appear as his gaze ducks away.

Kurt feels something inside him threaten to break and he forgot how terrible needing someone felt. He has no idea how it has happened so quickly, or maybe he does. “You don’t want—“

“London,” Blaine murmurs. “That’s all. It… it feels like it could be perfect but… London.”

Kurt somehow gets a hand between them, tracing his fingertips up Blaine’s side and over his chest, feeling his heart. He kind of wishes they were still giggling and teasing. “Just kiss me, okay?” Kurt eventually responds, because what else is he meant to say? He is leaving in five days and saying anything at all about it puts far, far too much weight onto one night’s encounter. Doesn’t it?

Blaine kisses him, over his mouth and across his face, tangling his hands in Kurt’s hair and letting his body drop to fit against his.

“Just kiss me and fuck me and keep laughing with me,” Kurt says.

Blaine laughs, right into the crook of Kurt’s neck, and then he says, “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this much during sex.”

“Good.” And Blaine starts to slip down his body, mouth over his chest and his nipples, past his belly button and his hips, and sucking his cock into his mouth again, making Kurt buck up and gasp.

Blaine licks around the head and listens to Kurt say “good” over and over. He slides off the foot of the bed and onto the carpet, hands trailing over Kurt’s calves as he pulls his jeans the rest of the way off and throws them towards the door. Blaine steps around the bed to his bedside table and pulls open the bottom drawer, blushing hard when he feels Kurt turn onto his side to watch him.

There’s the lube and the condoms, which he grabs, but there’s no way that Kurt can miss the flesh coloured dildo or the slim purple vibrator, or the anal beads nestled in beside them.

“I really wasn’t expecting company,” Blaine says again, still blushing as he climbs back on the bed beside Kurt.

“Sexy,” Kurt mutters, and then pulls him down against him, fitting their mouths together.

They’re both hard too easily, and it would be so simple for Blaine to stretch Kurt open and fuck him hard and fast, finding blissful release within minutes. But then it would be over, and they both suspect the truth of that and so they kiss and rock and touch lightly at each other, until the makes Kurt whimper and Blaine’s hands start to shake. When Blaine’s fingers trip back behind Kurt’s balls, Kurt lets his legs fall wide and his head tilt back as he says, “Go on.”

Blaine shuffles back, down between his legs, kneeling and looking, wishing he could somehow trick Kurt into letting him try to lick him open, but Kurt is already pawing between his legs, holding his cock and balls out of the way and pushing two fingers against his hole and Blaine needs to be the one doing that.

He bats Kurt’s hands away and finds the lube, letting it warm on his fingers while they both watch each other and try to settle their breathing. “Don’t waste time, okay?” Kurt says. “I want you in me.”

Blaine nods dumbly, surprised by the sudden change of pace from languid to not so, but not willing to argue. He slides a wet finger over Kurt’s hole and watches Kurt’s muscles tighten.

His finger slips in with barely any resistance, Kurt’s ass still stretched from Blaine’s tongue.

But god is he tight inside. Much tighter than Blaine remembers him being ten years ago, and definitely hotter and it makes his dick throb harder. He feels like a horny, desperate teenager again, except with so much more understanding of it all, of what it can be. He shakes his head and focuses on Kurt’s whimpers, the catches in his breath.


Blaine complies and this bit is easy, formulaic. Small, easy touches, nothing too much because Kurt is turned on and the point isn’t for him to get off on Blaine’s hand. So, Blaine just stretches him open, moving his fingers in and out and easing the muscles loose. He adds more lube and Kurt’s back bows. “One more?” Blaine asks, and Kurt’s whole body twists as he shakes his head.

“That’s enough,” Kurt mumbles.

Blaine can’t quite resist crooking his fingers up a little as he slides them out, teasing at Kurt with muscle memory from a lifetime ago.

It makes Kurt’s ass lift off the bed and try to ride down on Blaine’s fingers. It makes Kurt moan, high and loud in his throat, and when Blaine pulls his fingers all the way out and Kurt collapses, he glares and says, “Fuck you.”

It’s one of the sexiest things anyone has ever said to him. Blaine smirks, and then he is wiping the lube from his fingers on his own thigh and flattening his hands down Kurt’s hips. He presses a kiss to his chest and reaches for a condom. He doesn’t ask Kurt how he wants to do this. All Blaine wants is to do it just like this, face to face, as close as they can get and for as long as they can last.

But Kurt’s hand catches his and stops him. “Wait,” Kurt says. “I want this to be together.”

For a moment, Blaine thinks he means bare and he will if Kurt asks. He’s clean and he trusts Kurt. That might be incredibly stupid, but he so will. But that isn’t what Kurt means.

Pulling him down, Kurt kisses him and murmurs, “You’re gonna fuck me.” Kurt stops to suck on Blaine’s tongue, teeth scratching and pulling a moan into his mouth. “And then I’m gonna fuck you.”

It’s too much. It has to be, but Blaine’s hips jerk up into the warmth of Kurt’s belly and with the idea planted in his head he doesn’t know which he wants more. Kurt pushes him up onto his hands and knees and then off him, wriggling out from under Blaine’s body and searching the sheets for the lube. “I’ll be quick,” he says, kissing Blaine’s shoulder and steadying him on his hands and knees. His voice is softer still, stripped bare when he admits, “I can’t not have you every possible way tonight.”

Because London.

Blaine nods, and when he feels Kurt’s mouth on his back, kissing to the curve of his ass, he automatically drops down onto his elbows and buries his face in a pillow. He can’t see Kurt snaking a hand back to his own ass, sliding two fingers deep and twisting roughly.

“Tell me if I’m too fast,” Kurt warns, breathless. There’s the click of the lube and then there’s a slick finger, no thumb, pushing against Blaine’s hole and then sliding inside as Blaine groans. He hasn’t been like this in so long but his body remembers exactly how good it can feel.

Kurt kisses his back and then the swell of his ass as he works him open. Just as careful as Blaine was with him, just as easy and methodical. His thumb, and then two fingers, and then three, and Blaine doesn’t mean to start begging but he does.

“Kurt, enough, no more—“ He sucks in a breath and tries to stop his hips from fucking back onto Kurt’s fingers. “Stop, you gotta fuck me, please Kurt, please, now.”

And then he feels Kurt’s tongue on him, around the fingers there and then between, licking at the skin, and he can feel Kurt breathing him in and it’s far, far, too much. Blaine’s legs spread further apart until he’s collapsing flat on the mattress and rutting there, Kurt’s fingers slipping out, Kurt rocking back onto his knees to watch Blaine writhe for a moment before flipping him onto his back and crawling on top of him to kiss him senseless.

“Tell me you have something in that drawer to keep you stretched open,” Kurt mumbles against Blaine’s lips and Blaine twists under him again, skin alive and balls throbbing, his cock leaking precome against the length of Kurt’s.

He shakes his head though and mumbles, “Don’t want anything, just want you.” Kurt laughs at that, heat twisting inside him at the knowledge that once Blaine’s come, he’ll have to fuck slow and easy into Blaine’s limp body and work him open on his cock properly.

“Need you to fuck me now, okay?” Kurt asks, butterfly kisses pressed across Blaine’s collarbones. “Just like this,” he says, spreading his legs wider over Blaine’s and rocking his ass down so Blaine’s cock drags heavy across his hole. They both gasp and Blaine nods.

Moving back, Kurt finds a condom again and tears it open with his teeth, spitting the foil off to the side and knowing Blaine’s eyes are on him the whole time. He rolls the condom down Blaine’s cock, careful and conscious of the way Blaine’s body twists and tightens beneath his with even the lightest friction.

Up on his knees, a hand around the base of Blaine’s cock, Kurt positions himself over Blaine. He looks up to his face, sweating and open-mouthed and mussed-haired and smiling at him. Kurt knows damn well he’s never, ever seen anything so beautiful, but he bites his lip and doesn’t say it, because if Blaine smiles a little wider, looks any more beautiful, Kurt thinks this will all be over too soon.

Instead, Kurt swallows hard and holds his breath, dropping down enough to feel the blunt pressure of the head of Blaine’s cock against him. Blaine doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, and they both hold the moment between them for several long seconds. Then Kurt sinks down further, onto Blaine’s cock, and he gasps, his head falling back at the stretch of it, slides further down, taking more and more inside him, feeling too full and too hot, and then feeling Blaine’s hips beneath him as he bottoms out.

He’d planned to last for ages, to draw this out and make Blaine beg, but he isn’t going to last at all. Not feeling like this, not feeling this stretched open and perfectly full. His whole body is alive and Blaine’s skin is against his, his smell permeating him everywhere and Blaine is kissing him again.

Pulling him down and kissing him while his hips rock up in small movements, sliding just barely in and out of Kurt and mumbling something incomprehensible into his mouth.

Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, Kurt closes his eyes and wills himself to focus on Blaine, on the feel of him. He pulls his hips up and then drops back down, breath catching deep in his lungs and staying there as Blaine’s tongue licks across his cheek by accident before Blaine swears into his ear. Kurt does it again and squeezes his cock harder, squeezes his eyes shut tighter and feels them begin to water with how much he wants this to last.

He rides Blaine’s cock one more time, hips stuttering up all the way and then slamming back down so the sound of skin on skin echoes around the room along with Blaine’s moan. Then he rolls to the side, scrabbling at Blaine’s hip to keep him inside and against him, pulling him on top of him and finding his ear with his teeth, biting at the lobe when Blaine’s cock slides deeper and then deeper still as Kurt’s legs wrap around his waist and pull him down.

Kurt cries out and Blaine bucks, and then Kurt murmurs, “Fuck me as hard as you want but don’t let me come.”

Blaine pulls back to stare at him with wide eyes. He nods and draw his hips back, fucking into him hard and deep and making Kurt’s moan slip higher. Blaine hesitates, not sure what to do, and then Kurt begs, “Keep going,” and “Fuck me,” and Blaine couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to.

He pulls his hips back and fucks in once again, but this time he doesn’t stop, repeating the movement again and again, over and over, as hard as he can because Kurt is just lying there, with his face pressed half into a pillow and his eyes squeezed shut. He’s smiling and moaning and grasping at Blaine’s hips, holding on and willing him forward and, god, Kurt’s body feels like heaven.

He’s hot and tight and perfect around him and Blaine doesn’t want to come ever but his body wants to come right damn now and Kurt needs that. Kurt’s cock is slick between them and dark red and he is desperate, begging, needing Blaine to tip over the edge—

So that Kurt can fuck him. Kurt wants him finished so that Kurt can sink his cock inside Blaine’s ass and fuck him as hard as he wants and come deep inside him, and Blaine wants that too so he fucks into Kurt harder. He fucks him with long measured strokes that trip pleasure from the base of his cock all the way to the head and trigger hot pleasure twisting at the base of his spine, tightening his balls.

“God, you feel good,” he says, kissing up Kurt’s throat. “So fucking good.” Without really thinking, he adds, “I’d forgotten.”

He hears Kurt breath catch and shudder out of him, Kurt’s hips fucking up to meet his. Kurt’s hand scratches up his back, from ass to shoulder and down, nails biting, hanging on. He watches as Kurt runs his own hand over his chest and up his neck and into his sweat-ruined hair, tugging there as Kurt’s head thrashes to the other side. He lets out a wracked breath that sounds near a sob and fucks his hips up hard, taking Blaine’s cock deep inside him and squeezing tight.

Blaine can see the purple bruise he’s left on Kurt’s neck and it brings him closer. He can feel the lines on his back and the fingerprints across his ass, and his cock throbs with it and he is so close, so perfectly close, and he says so, hot, open mouth on Kurt’s neck, wrecked voice uttering, “Gonna come,” and it just makes Kurt sob again.

Somehow Kurt gets his mouth on the tendon of Blaine’s neck, teeth holding tight and biting hard, only stopping to pull back and he pleads, “Blaine, now, please. I’m so close and I can’t—” and then Kurt bites down again, cock throbbing under his hand but he won’t come, not yet, not for a few more moments. First, he wants to watch Blaine.

Blaine does as he’s told, grabbing Kurt’s hips and pushing him down into his bed, desperate for his sheets to smell of Kurt and them together forever. He holds him there and fucks into him, over and over, squeezing his eyes shut tight and letting the throb in his balls build until it feels like he’s going to pass out, and then he fucks deep and rough, all the way inside, Kurt’s legs tight around his back and holding him there as he cries out and comes hard.

Kurt teeth scratch away from Blaine’s neck and he watches Blaine work himself through it. Little stutters of his hips against his ass, tiny drags inside him as Blaine’s cock throbs and he spills in the condom. Kurt holds his breath and tries to commit to memory the lines of Blaine’s face, twisted up in ecstasy, the tendons of his neck standing out stark under red-flushed, sweaty skin, marked up with a hundred bites, all of them Kurt’s. He watches the first deep breath Blaine takes as his hips still and he begins to come down, the way Blaine’s chest expands and contracts, the muscles of his arms doing the same.

Swallowing, Kurt has to tell him, “You’re beautiful.” Blaine is too undone to do anything but laugh, deep and still breathless.

He slides out of Kurt too quickly, making Kurt hiss. Blaine flops to the side, sprawling on his back, his fingers pressing lazily around the base of his cock to hold the condom in place. Kurt stares across at him, still strung out and desperate and still holding himself taut to stop from coming. Blaine just breathes, eyes shut, face lax with pleasure and Kurt keeps watching.

Eventually it is too much, and silently Kurt is moving on his hands and knees, closer to Blaine. It’s not etiquette, at this point, to pull the condom away, but he doesn’t care. He reaches out with shaking, careful fingers and slides it stickily off, knotting it and staring around the room for a trashcan. There isn’t one, and he sure as hell isn’t moving, so he dumps it on the bedside table and then moves his eyes back to Blaine’s.

Blaine who is almost asleep, whose breathing has almost settled, and who looks exactly like Kurt was imagining all night. He can’t stop himself from leaning down and kissing at Blaine’s hip, making him twitch, tasting the sweat. He kisses at Blaine’s softening cock, drawing out a whimper and the taste of Blaine back across his tongue.

God, Kurt needs to fuck him now.

Blaine’s eyes are closed and he’s smiling by the time Kurt has a condom on and has slicked himself up, but Kurt kisses him, and Blaine kisses him lazily back, and then he lets Kurt push him into the centre of the bed, onto his belly.

Kurt kisses down the line of Blaine’s spine and fists his cock even though he still feels dangerously close to the edge. He just needs to be inside him. He needs it and he isn’t going to let himself think about why. He’s just going to take it.

He nudges Blaine’s legs apart with his knees and settles between them, spreading Blaine’s ass and finding his hole beautifully dark and tight and still slick with lube. He drops his whole body over Blaine’s and rocks against him, kissing behind his ear and whispering, “Please tell me I can do this. Please don’t say no.”

It’s quiet and languid when it slides from Blaine’s mouth and it makes Kurt want to cry. “Fuck me.”

Blaine’s legs spread even wider, but he hasn’t the energy to raise up, and Kurt is just fine with that, sitting back a little and spreading his ass open with both hands, sliding the head of his cock up the crack and back down and hearing Blaine moan low in his throat. Gripping his cock with one hand, Kurt lines himself up and presses inside.

Blaine twitches beneath him, voice breathy when he whines again, undoubtedly oversensitive and spent, but taking it beautifully anyway. Inch by delicious inch disappearing inside him and Kurt can watch it happen, ease the muscles of Blaine’s back and ass with a soothing hand as he drags the motion out over seconds because he has to, because Blaine is so damn tight.

Somehow he settles all the way in, his balls pressed up close to Blaine’s, his cock throbbing achingly inside him, and Blaine’s hips roll back slightly. It’s too much and Kurt laughs for just a moment at how unfair life is to give him this much pleasure and snatch it away in what he knows will be seconds.

Not that it matters, not when it feels like this and Blaine is over-sexed and exhausted under him. Kurt leans forward and down and covers Blaine’s body, hooking his chin over Blaine’s shoulder, sliding his arms under Blaine’s and then resting his open mouth against Blaine’s jaw.

Blaine whimpers when Kurt fucks into him the first time, one long, delicious stroke that makes Kurt see stars. He whimpers again and twists on the second thrust and then settles into shivering and panting as Kurt lets his hips fuck hard and fast and inevitable.

“God you’re perfect,” spills from Kurt’s lips. “So fucking hot,” and then, “So fucking beautiful,” and then, “So fucking mine.” Kurt fucks him hard and holds on for as long as he can, just a matter of seconds, and then he simply lets go.

He buries himself and lets his hips jerk against the curve of Blaine’s ass, feels the frissons of electricity race their way up his spine and out to his fingertips, making them dig into Blaine’s shoulders. He comes hard and fast —jesus, fuck—blissful and loud and tearing him apart. He doesn’t hold any of it back, fucking in deeper and harder and wringing the last of it from him until the exhaustion overtakes him and he recognizes faintly that this is what it might have felt for Blaine.

He collapses there for several long seconds. Blaine mumbles something at him about not being able to breathe and Kurt forces his limbs to work just long enough to slide agonizingly slowly from Blaine’s ass.

He’s still hard, but everything twinges with too-muchness. He pulls the condom off and leaves it—rather disgustingly, he notes—beside Blaine’s. Then he collapses right back into the heady heat of Blaine’s skin, pressing up against him and covering him with a leg thrown over his ass and his arms pulling him in.

It takes Kurt a confusing few moments to realize the vibrations he’s feeling are from Blaine’s silent laughter. He can’t be bothered lifting his head but he mumbles, “What?” into Blaine’s hair.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to move again.”

Kurt laughs then and his brain feels more sluggish than it has all night. Sleep tugs at him. “Such a bad thing?”

“Nuh.” Blaine somehow manages to grab the sheet and pull it up and over and Kurt’s heart beats hard to think Blaine isn’t letting him go just yet. “You know, you’re more stunning now than I ever thought anyone could be.” Kurt feels Blaine’s mouth press messily to his shoulder. “Not ever,” he adds.

Kurt sighs and has to blink once heavily to remember where he is.  “You too,” he says, and it sounds silly but he means it.

There’s silence and they both slip in and out of sleep, their minds there but their muscles still trying to unknot, their hearts trying to find a proper rhythm.

“I fucking hate London,” Blaine mumbles.

“Yeah?” Kurt replies, arms tightening around Blaine’s back. “You want me to stay?”

Blaine hums a “yes” against Kurt’s skin and then nuzzles closer.

And before Kurt can find an answer, Blaine begins to softly snore.