My contribution to the already amassed ‘I Do’ reaction/filler fics. Just more sex, basically. It was meant to be short and drabbley. Kind of what Jay and I were talking about earlier…
4300 words later…
“I wasn’t done with you.” Blaine presses to the back of him whispering hot in Kurt’s ear as he forces him up against the bar he’s been flirting over . The bartender—Kurt never did get his name—raises his eyebrows, taking in the way Blaine’s up on tiptoes, leaning in against Kurt’s back, arms around his waist, and then moves off to find something to clean.
“Oh?” Kurt manages, smirking down into his glass of punch as Blaine’s nose brushes up his neck. He has nothing else to say, no come back, it all just feels too hot all of a sudden.
“Come back upstairs with me?” Blaine asks, mouth open and wet now, leaning forward and over—god he must be right up on his toes—to press his tongue to Kurt’s pulse point. “Round two? Please?”
Kurt takes one deep breath and surveys the remnants of the reception. There are three couples left dancing, a few more scattered around the tables. The band is finished and some random iTunes playlist is playing. “Technically round three,” be breathes as the barman catches his gaze and raises his eyebrows.
Except there’s no one he’d rather have under him on the bed than Blaine. Of course there isn’t, there’s no one in the universe who knows him like Blaine, who fits against, inside, around, him like Blaine. Kurt shakes his head and blinks slowly, turning his body to Blaine’s, finding himself bracketed up against the bar.
Blaine finds his mouth easily and Kurt wonders how many times they’ve kissed in the last few hours. Making out, it kind of becomes a seamless symphony of heat, kisses that count because oh god they feel like the deepest touches of all, and kisses that don’t quite make it to his mouth. All that time in the car, the moment Blaine caught him up against the wall outside the bathroom, the stolen kisses to each other’s necks and shoulders as they hoped no one was looking and slow-danced the night away. In the elevator on the way up to the room Kurt had booked, Blaine growling into Kurt’s mouth when he found him already hard under his palm and whimpering. Blaine had kissed him for so long it couldn’t possibly be counted as just one kiss. All the kissing in that bed.
They’ve kissed a lot and this one time, Kurt backed up against the bar, Blaine’s mouth hot and open against his, licking into his mouth, is just once more. The shattering of glass breaks the moment and they both pull apart and look over Kurt’s shoulder, to where his hand has knocked a pair of empty martini glasses to the floor. The barman yelps, angry and calling for them and Blaine’s hand wraps around Kurt’s and tugs.
They only make it as far as the hallway outside the reception hall, Kurt pulling Blaine back, into him, over him, up against the wall again and kissing him soundly. “You’ll never get enough of me,” Kurt mumbles as his hands set to working Blaine’s hair loose again, Blaine’s hands on his waist, thumbs dipping under the waistband and rubbing hard over his hipbones.
“Don’t you fucking know it.” And then Blaine is dragging him towards the elevators, pushing the button, over and over, as Kurt kisses at his neck, fingers tangled together at their sides so intimately it aches as a focus point.
“Shit.” Blaine drags Kurt along the bank of elevators, unfairly busy at this time of night, through a door off to the side and then up the stairs. They struggle, racing each other, catching each other, kissing and touching, up two floors. Then they burst through the doors and pull apart, searching for the right direction as they pant from the climb and too much kissing.
Kurt works out where they’re going first and pulls, racing Blaine down the hallway a hundred times more desperate than they were the first time, clothes hanging off them by the time they reach the door, laughter passed back and forth until Kurt finds himself pressing his back up against the wood, dragging Blaine in against him.
Hot and hard against his thigh, cock thick and obvious through his dress pants, Blaine’s breath harsh in his ear as he whines and ruts there and Kurt searches his pockets for his wallet, then for the key card and then the door is opening and they’re falling into the room.
Blaine pushes him, hands rough, twisting him around and stumbling them both back as the door slams and somehow the lights come on, Blaine’s hands on his chest, walking him back and then pushing him onto the bed, sprawling and gasping and staring up with wide, lusty eyes. Kurt’s never been more turned on in his life.
Blaine stares at him, stares at the half-on clothes and the kissed pink lips. He sets to work on pulling Kurt’s pants off and tries to remember himself, tries not to think how good this is going to feel in a few minutes because he wants it to last.
I’ll meet you downstairs.
Oh the little fucking bastard. Downstairs, the reception. Was the reception really still going? It felt like they’d been in bed together for hours and hours. Meticulously undressing, then kissing, kissing, the whole time, their mouths never being more than a few inches away and even then, it was only to kiss some other bit of delicious of skin.
Kurt wanted to play, wanted to savour it, he even mumbled as much under his breath but Blaine needed none of that, just wanted Kurt inside him yesterday. Please, he’d begged.
The afterglow has been blissful, relaxed, comfortable even, until Kurt pulled himself from the bed and Blaine debated what to say as he watched him move, so sure in his own skin, to get dressed. Blaine called him back to bed and Kurt laughed it off and got dressed, throwing Blaine’s clothes towards him as he went. And when Blaine had to say something, had to state the obvious between them: We’re still everything to each other, we’re still in love, we’re still forever, Kurt had brushed it off. He wasn’t ready.
It made Blaine laugh, which was ridiculous and he knew that.
Kurt standing too close and teasing a kiss, being the hottest thing on the goddamn planet, it didn’t make Blaine laugh, it made his recently spent dick twitch and his fingers itch to pull him back in. But then Kurt was gone. Even though Blaine knew, for the first time in months, he knew, he could pull him back in.
I’ll meet you downstairs.
So Blaine had met him downstairs.
Blaine gets him naked as fast as he can. Pulls everything off and, this time, he doesn’t hang anything up. He leaves Kurt squirming on top of the sheets, only his black boxer briefs still on, his hands reaching, trying to coax Blaine into the mattress. Biting his lip, Blaine starts to strip: shirt over his head, pants pooled at his feet while his shoes are pulled off. He hops, stupidly as he tugs away his socks.
“Stay with me tonight?” he asks.
Kurt laughs, up on his elbows, head arched back, throat on display. “We’re just—“
Friends, I know. “I want this to be so good. I don’t want you to be able to walk after this.”
Kurt groans and Blaine slides his own underwear down his legs, kicking them off and then grabbing his cock and stroking. He’s already so hard. “You’ll stay?” he asks as he gasps.
Kurt nods, soundlessly and Blaine tilts his head, mind already flitting ahead to being curled around Kurt’s sleeping form, soft snores mixing in the air, sleep sweat slick between them, their essences mingling as the seconds tick and neither one of them is conscious enough to knows it.
But now. Kurt flips, onto his belly, ass arched into the air, the black cotton clinging to the curves and the heaviness of his balls. He’s up onto his hands and knees, pressing back and looking over his shoulder. “You should rim me.”
Blaine bites hard at the inside of his cheek. “I don’t remember you being this bold,” he comments as he slides onto the bed on his knees, thumbs tracing the material where Kurt’s underwear meets the skin of his thighs.
“I know what I want,” Kurt says, pressing his ass a little higher.
Kurt growls, missing the subtext, and Blaine laughs, pulling Kurt’s underwear down to mid-thigh. He spreads Kurt’s ass with his hands and then buries his mouth there, nuzzling in as close as he can get, pressing his face into the crease of Kurt’s ass and not caring that he can’t quite breath, that the smell of Kurt is so strong—sweaty and earthy and dark—it’s almost suffocating. Blaine could die here, he thinks.
He licks Kurt open, circles and figure eights, and rough swipes up and down. He contemplates reaching between Kurt’s lets and stroking him through it but Kurt keeps mewling into the pillows so he doesn’t think it’s necessary. When he pulls back he realizes the throw pillow between Kurt’s teeth is the one Blaine used to prop his own hips up only an hour ago, the pillow Blaine almost came all over, would have if Kurt hadn’t pulled out and slid down to suck the orgasm from him.
Blaine groans and presses his mouth again to Kurt’s hole, tongue fucking in past the muscle, licking as deep as he can and digging his nails into the soft flesh of Kurt’s ass. “Fuck you taste so fucking good, Kurt.” He pulls back, sitting with a wet chin and bruised red lips at the end of the bed, Kurt’s legs flopping open, exhausted, either side of him.
“Come kiss me,” he says and Blaine goes, sliding up him to mouth at his chin, spit slicking everywhere, making Kurt laugh and wriggle. He bites at Kurt’s lips, at the tip of his nose, soft little sucks and nips and then he angles his mouth right and kisses him deep, licking into Kurt’s mouth, finding his tongue with his own and fucking up against it. He can’t stop from growling, “Mine,” but Kurt either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
“You gonna fuck me?” Kurt asks.
It’s the obvious choice. Blaine’s licked him open and last time it was mutual blow jobs and then Kurt fucking Blaine as Blaine managed to sit in his lap and wrap all around him. Kurt arches up under Blaine now, legs wide, arms pulling him down and getting him in the right spot for Blaine’s dick to rub up behind Kurt’s balls, making them both gasp.
Blaine moans though and it sounds, almost, like a ‘no’. It makes Kurt still, his fingers grappling for purchase on Blaine’s back, pulling up into his hair and wrenching his face back to lock eyes. “No?” he asks, wondering what could be in store, unable to stop his mind from flicking over every single way they ever made love before they broke up, every single way he ever dreamed, imagined, wondered in the months that followed.
He swallows to wet his mouth and keep from coming against Blaine’s hip. “Blaine, please…”
Blaine tumbles off him, fingers unwinding from his hair, hips pulling back and the red thickness of his cock jutting out on display. He crawls across the bed and comes back with the lube, drops it on Kurt’s belly with a salacious grin as he used his other hand to drag Kurt’s boxer briefs down and off.
“Fuck me again?”
“So needy,” it slips out even though he’s never accused Blaine outright of it, only ever whispered it when he’s been alone and jacking off.
Blaine grins and growls as he pushes Kurt to the side of the bed and collapses forward onto his stomach, legs splayed, cock caught up between him against the sheets, his face buried in a pillow that still smells like Kurt.
He looks decadent there, already well-fucked and Kurt pauses because he hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t realized Blaine’s tanned skin would be punctuated with bite marks, fingerprints, and the flush and sheen of someone who has already taken it. Kurt fucked him hard the first time, deep with Blaine up on his hands and knees, but evidently it wasn’t enough.
Scrabbling, Kurt moves to kneel between Blaine’s legs, a hand kneading over one side of his ass, fingertips pressing up against the small round bruises left over from the last time. His other hand slides between, four fingers pressing in a row up the crease and ghosting over Blaine’s hole.
He gasps as Blaine does, fingers finding Blaine still wet with lube, his flesh hot to the touch, muscles flexing. He ghosts the touch back, index finger swirling in a circle and then pressing easily inside, all the way until Kurt twists and pulls, rubbing Blaine from the inside out and watching as the muscles of his back tremble and his hips rut down.
“What?” Blaine rasps, pulling up onto his arms so he can cast his dark eyes back, his hair finally curling free at his temples. “You think I didn’t fall back on the bed and fuck myself on my fingers as soon as you left?”
Kurt’s mouth goes dry and his knees shift on the mattress, wondering how close he is to where Blaine was lying as he did it.
“I told you I wanted you to keep fucking me,” Blaine breathes. Forever.
“You can’t just—“ Blaine cuts him off with a gasp, flopping down with his hands on the headboard. “Fuck!” he mumbles as Kurt pushes three fingers in and twists. “I’ll see you downstairs,” Blaine mutters, mimicking, teasing. “Instant hard-on.”
Kurt laughs at him but his voice is high and thready.
“Fuck me,” Blaine tells him.
“I so, so am. Trust me, you were downstairs a good twenty minutes before me.” Blaine tries to find friction for his dick, canting his hips into the bed. “Fuck me.”
Kurt clicks his tongue and resists the urge to smack over Blaine’s ass as he drags his fingers free because he’s never done that. He finds the condoms, on the floor near the nightstand where he left them, and rips the foil with his teeth, Blaine just stays where he is, face buried again, hips working in small circles, legs splayed and edging further apart. Kurt tries not to look because his cock is already hard and leaking precome and Jesus Christ he wants this to be long and decadent and satisfying.
He slides the condom easily over himself, runs his hand up the crack of Blaine’s ass, collecting lube and wondering just how ruined Blaine’s underpants already are down the end of the bed. He squirts more from the bottle and then drops it on the floor, slicking himself up and then wiping his hand off on the sheets because they’re already messed with multiple smatterings of fluids the hotel staff really don’t deserve.
Blaine doesn’t look back, just tilts, arching his back and gripping his fingers into the sheets, knuckles blanching white. “Fuck me,” he whines, ass spread, hole dark and stretched already, utterly perfect, completely Kurt’s. It clenches, relaxes and then clenches again and Kurt can hardly breathe.
“Shit,” Kurt mutters, hands finding purchase under Blaine’s knees, hoisting them higher on the bed, spreading Blaine open further and dragging him back a little, making him moan as his cock rubs against the sheets. “Ready?”
“Always,” Blaine says, mostly to himself. He feels the head of Kurt’s cock rubbing over his hole, up and back, pressed with blunt, hot pressure, and he angles, whimpering loud enough for Kurt to hear.
Then Kurt sinks in with one slow, lush stroke, pressing into Blaine’s flesh easily, the tight heat yielding to the push while Blaine scrabbles at the sheets and whines louder.
Kurt pulls out, his hands leaning all of his weight into Blaine’s waist, pressing him down into the sheets and making him work to tilt his ass up, at the right angle to make the push of Kurt’s cock inside him catch at all the best places, driving deep, stretching, filling, the slap of Kurt’s balls against the back of Blaine’s, the growl in Kurt’s voice as he calls his name. “Blaine.”
Kurt keeps fucking him, seemingly calm, even strokes that push Blaine up the bed until he needs his hands above his head to keep him from bumping the wood of the headboard. Deeper and deeper until Kurt’s crying out and holding stone-still, half inside him. “Wanna come?” he asks, the fingers of his right hand tapping down Blaine’s side to where he’s pressed against the bed, searching his cock out.
“Not yet, want you longer,” Blaine forces even though he could happily spill over the sheets with the barest of touches.
Kurt collapses with a huff that’s half laugh, flopping down against Blaine’s back and burying deeper with a groan that comes loud and too close to Blaine’s ear. “You’re so tight,” he murmurs by way of explanation.
“You’d think by now—“
“You’re always so fucking tight—“ Kurt bites at Blaine’s neck, feeling his body twist under his, making his cock twitch, making it stretch at a rougher angle. “So good to me—“ He bites again, teeth pulling at the skin and sucking in a mark as his hips roll. “God, you take it so well.”
And Blaine moans and his body arches, ass fucking back against Kurt’s cock and grinding in tight circles as Blaine turns his head and captures Kurt’s mouth. They kiss dirty, tongues licking and teeth nipping as Kurt starts rocking himself into Blaine at a slower pace, holding off on the inevitable, enjoying the splay of Blaine’s body beneath his.
Blaine’s stretched out and still covered, caught between Kurt’s arms where they bracket up his sides, hands now splayed around Blaine’s biceps from behind, keeping his arms up, hands scratching against the wood. They kiss and Kurt slides, fucking him slowly, the dip of his chest, where his ribs run out, to the small of Blaine’s back, slick with where the sweat pools between them in Blaine’s dimples and the dip of his spine. It’s nirvana and Kurt tries to spread his body more, tries to cover everything, to touch everywhere and take it all in while Blaine groans into his mouth and tries to move more.
But Kurt has him caught, just like Blaine wanted, all of his weight bearing down and pinning him to the bed, kissing him with so much passion that Blaine eventually has to turn his head back into the pillows so he can focus on the stretch of his ass, the press of Kurt’s nails into his arms.
The sounds echo, the slap of Kurt’s skin against Blaine’s every time he fucks in particularly hard, the sound of the slickness between them and the rustle of the sheets each time Kurt’s feet shift to find more purchase. Blaine can’t move, can’t take or demand that Kurt give more and he loves it. The hot spread of breath against his neck, his back, Kurt shifting to bite and lick each square inch of skin, from one shoulder to the other and back, teeth eventually finding the nubs of Blaine’s spine and resting there.
“God you feel good,” Kurt says again and Blaine’s body bows, desperately trying to get Kurt to move more, harder, faster, twisting to get more friction to his cock against the bed.
Before he knows what he’s saying, Blaine’s turning his head to ask, “Wanna come now.”
Kurt laughs, a huff of air down Blaine’s spine as Kurt bottoms out and grinds. “You can come whenever you want,” Kurt tells him.
“Touch me,” Blaine begs, legs trembling as he tries as hard as he can to cant his hips down rough enough to get more friction, then he fucks back to try to get Kurt that little bit deeper. “Oh god, please,” he whimpers. “Please.”
Kurt almost comes to hear it, cock pulsing hard where he’s fucked again into the hot slickness of Blaine, but he grits his teeth and scratches his nails down Blaine’s sides, biting harder at the back of his neck. He keeps fucking, deeper and harder so they’re both gasping every time he bottoms out. “Soon,” he says.
“Please,” Blaine tries again, really begging, head pressing harder in the pillows, hair askew and his voice a rasp. “Oh fuck, Kurt, need you so bad.”
Kurt’s hands find Blaine’s hips and grip, he bottoms out one more time and bites down hard on his own bottom lip. Then he’s twisting them, turning them over and holding Blaine close as they move, keeping his cock buried until Kurt’s flat on his back with Blaine’s weight pressing down on him from above and he can reach and grab around his body even as Blaine arches and squirms because he finally can.
Kurt wraps a hand around Blaine’s cock, squeezing and pumping tight, and the other around Blaine’s chest, fingernails digging in and scratching before he pinches over the hard peak of a nipple. He licks at the back of Blaine’s neck, behind his ear, plants his feet and fucks up.
Blaine moans loud, the sound echoing in Kurt’s ears as he slides out and does it again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Blaine chants in his ear, his own hands grasping at the sheets once more. “Fill me,” he says, “Keep fucking me,” and Kurt does. “Gonna come.”
“Do it,” Kurt whispers into the curled hair at the nape of Blaine’s neck, and then he fucks up one last time, twists his wrist around Blaine’s cock and then feels him tense. The lines of Blaine’s back go harsh and jagged, his hands have managed to find Kurt’s hips beneath him and grip, and then he’s spilling over Kurt’s hand, pumping up over and over as his come drips down onto his own stomach and his ass grips tight around Kurt’s cock.
Kurt only gets a second to savour it, giving Blaine just a moment of respite as he holds still and then he pulls back and pushes his cock inside again, feeling Blaine arch, the last drips of his orgasm wrung from him. And then a few more times, short, hard thrusts, and Kurt is grabbing at Blaine’s skin, a hand splaying through the come on his belly and pulling him down against him, over him, arching up and Kurt gasps and whimpers and comes buried deep. His hips twitching as he spills, Blaine grinding down in spite of himself until Kurt stills and his gasps dissolve into panting.
“Fuck,” Kurt mumbles because he can still feel that orgasm all the way down to his toes, fuzzing his mind and making everything feel heavy and slow. Blaine is still splayed over him, also heavy, but the most perfect kind of weight. Blaine’s still around him as well, Kurt realizes, and after a few more moments of just breathing, he reaches for Blaine’s hips once more and pushes him off, the slip of his cock from Blaine’s ass making them both moan and then giggle.
“Shut up,” Kurt says for no reason at all, reaching with hands that feel like lead to his cock, gingerly pulling the condom off, tying it and throwing it somewhere in the direction of the bathroom. “C’mere” he says next, pulling Blaine back up against him, ignoring the come still smeared over his dick and the slide of his hand over Blaine’s belly.
“Kiss me?” Kurt asks, in the low, post-sex rough voice that Blaine loves so much. “Kiss me,” he says again.
Blaine leans back, over his shoulder and does, letting Kurt suck on his lips and lick behind his teeth and not for a second does Blaine think this will be the last time. The hope races in his blood and he revels in it, kissing Kurt back almost lazily.
When Kurt pulls away, he says, “Shower?”
Blaine groans and cuddles his body back against Kurt’s further. “Soon,” he replies. “Stay here for a bit.”
Kurt hums into his hair, already starting to feel his mind transitioning from thinking the body fluids between them are hot to thinking it’s all a bit gross. “Very soon,” he cautions.
“Shut up,” Blaine mumbles, already half asleep and holding perfectly to the curve on Kurt’s body, making it really hard for him to even think about wriggling loose.
Kurt waits, counts slowly and tries to get his body to calm down, tries to order thoughts he’s trying very hard not to think as Blaine’s breathing levels out and then slips into a gentle snore. He always does fall asleep embarrassingly fast after sex, they’re lucky they made it back down to the reception the first time.
Only when Kurt is reasonably sure that Blaine is dreaming does he brush his lips affectionately over the curve of his neck and whisper, “I love you.” He’s quick to follow up, though, “As a friend.” And then he thinks, judges himself a little and revises, “As a very, very good friend.”
Blaine’s laughter shakes through him before is explodes as a snort and then he mutters, “Sorry,” and goes back to pretending to be asleep. Kurt scowls into his back and the nips harsh over a bruise in reprimand. He’ll give him ten more minutes and then they need to get clean.