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Ride Till Dark

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“Kuuuuuurt. Are you almost done? You’ve been in there forever.”

Kurt smiles, toweling off his thigh where it’s still wet from his shower. “Don’t rush me, Blaine. But, yes, hold on, I’m coming.”

“Well, you’re not coming yet…” Kurt can hear Blaine giggle idiotically through the door. Under normal circumstances, he’d roll his eyes and sharply advise that Blaine avoid such lazy innuendos in the future if he wants to get laid, but Blaine is drunk, Kurt is in high spirits, and he finds it in himself to grant Blaine a small laugh for his efforts.

“Go wait in bed. I’ll be there soon.” He doesn’t have to listen to the muffled sounds of feet shuffling away to know that Blaine has complied.

Kurt makes quick work of drying off the remainder of his leg before moving to the mirror, mouth tipping up contentedly. His skin is scrubbed pink, soft and smelling lightly of oatmeal-almond soap. He feels fresh and light and clean all over, decadent and ripe for the taking. He runs a hand up his left forearm, a tingly thrill rushing through him.

It’s a thrill both familiar and utterly foreign. He still remembers going through his cleaning ritual for the first time, virginal and slightly terrified, eyes bright and chest taut as he mentally repeated to himself the string of words he’d spent a full day composing to perfection: I want to go to your house. He still feels the power of that loaded phrase on his tongue, even more so now that he can finally appreciate the willowy stretches of his own body in the way that Blaine does. His fingers trail up and over a firm bicep and the broad yet delicate slope of his shoulder.

He’s running a fingertip over a hardening nipple when something that sounds alarmingly like a crash interrupts his soap-scrubbed self-indulgence.

“Blaine?” He calls out, hand dropping back to his side.

“Everything’s fine, I knocked my glass over. It didn’t shatter, so don’t panic.”

With a final glance at the mirror, Kurt slips his satin nightgown on before stepping out. He finds Blaine on the floor, already naked and wiping up a small puddle of wine. Blaine looks up, features bashful and loose in his tipsiness. A shy smile reveals teeth stained faintly purple from the merlot he’s been sipping at all night.

“Don’t be mad,” he pleads, standing up and dropping the wine-soaked rag into the small garbage can behind him.

“I’m not.” Kurt returns Blaine’s smile as he admires his nude form before him, eyes fixing finally on his cock, thick and dark and hanging limply.

“You should be drunk. And also naked. It’s not fair that you’re neither of those things while I’m both.”

“Patience.” Kurt reaches past Blaine to pick up the half-empty bottle of merlot sitting on their nightstand, taking a small swig directly from it to appease him. He puts it back down and guides them both toward the edge of the bed.

Blaine wastes no time untying the belt of his bathrobe and slides it off, licking absently at an exposed collarbone before staring Kurt in the eye. “Mm, you smell so good…what took you so long? I’m so horny and you were in there for what felt like millennia…”

“It’s not every night we get the luxury of the place to ourselves. This needs to be…special.”

He emphasizes the last word pointedly, hoping Blaine will catch its suggestion. They’ve always had an active and mind-blowingly satisfying sex life (a couple of dry patches notwithstanding), but he thinks most people would be surprised to realize how rarely they have the time, privacy, and/or energy levels to move away from hands and mouths. Lewd speculation on their sex lives has long been a favorite discussion topic of their friends (Santana especially), but the truth of the matter is they haven’t actually had that much experience with the anal penetration everyone assumes they’re constantly having.

“Special,” Blaine’s face lights up. “Oh.”

Kurt gnaws on his bottom lip in what he hopes is a compellingly coquettish manner. “Yes. Oh.”

“So you want to—”

“Yes. Thus the extra clean-up time.”

Kurt inches closer, index finger ghosting teasingly up Blaine’s inner thigh. He can feel Blaine stiffen, though, features tensing up with what looks troublingly like worry.

Kurt frowns and retracts his hand like he’s been burned. “Did I say something wrong? What’s up?”

Blaine shakes his head, looking down. “No, nothing. It’s just…”

“What?”

“Did it gross you out that I didn’t…you know. Do all that the time that I, um. Bottomed?”

Blaine’s face looks stuck mid-cringe as his question hangs in the air. Kurt freezes. He opens his mouth in hopes it’ll pressure his brain into responding in a manner that won’t kill the mood, but Blaine speaks up again first.

“I mean, it’s not like I didn’t — I showered and everything, you know? But you just spend so much time in the bathroom. Am I doing it wrong?”

Blaine looks about as embarrassed as Kurt feels. Kurt feels his heart rate escalating and carefully composes himself. They’re adults now with years and years of more sexual exploration in their future. They have to talk about this, he reasons. It’s fine.

“Blaine, no. It was fine. It’s me, you know how I get about…messy things and situations I can’t control.”

Kurt is suddenly, deeply regretting his sobriety. He finds himself desperately hoping Blaine won’t remember this conversation in the morning, but he knows he’s not even nearly that drunk.

“Oh, god. You were grossed out.” Blaine’s face falls into his hands. Panic spikes up in Kurt’s chest again.

“No! Blaine. No. I wasn’t. I promise. It was good. I just get anxious when the preventive measures for…potential mishaps aren’t in my hands.” He isn’t lying — he hadn’t been grossed out, just uncomfortable. “Please don’t worry about this.”

Blaine laughs, awkward, and peeks up at Kurt through his hands. “I made this so weird. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t drink.”

Blaine looks to be warming up again, the tension in his body loosening, and Kurt tentatively places a hand on his shoulder. Blaine leans into it, dropping his hands into his lap.

“You didn’t make it weird. It’s probably good that we talked about this, or at least…kind of talked about it. Rachel will be moving to LA soon, this place will be all ours, and we’ll get to, you know, go all the way more often, so…”

Blaine grins. “Mmmm.”

Feeling emboldened, Kurt grabs his hips with a grin of his own. “Mmmmm indeed.”

Blaine laughs softly before his face goes serious again. “But you do like it? Receiving? It’s not just the…control thing?”

Kurt feels his face go red. “Oh, trust me. It’s not just the control thing. I like it. Love it, actually. I always wish we could do it more.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Okay.”

They stare at each other intently for a few moments before they’re both giggling a little sheepishly.

“I love you,” Kurt breathes, quieting. There’s something terrifying about being the first to say it, but he feels it far too intensely in the awkward intimacy of this moment to not risk it.

“I love you, too,” Blaine replies, leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss against his lips. Kurt can smell and taste the wine staining his mouth and he doesn’t even hate it. Blaine pulls away, eyes sharp. “But I really want to fuck you now.”

“Well,” Kurt moans, feeling suddenly breathless and hot all over, “I think that can be arranged.”

Blaine gently pulls him toward the head of the bed, laying down and encouraging Kurt to rest on top of him with an insistent arm around his waist. Kurt kisses him, hard and fast and filthy, rubbing at every available inch of naked skin he can reach. Blaine groans as Kurt strokes a nipple with the pad of a fingertip, pelvis thrusting upward until his cock is pressed against Kurt’s smooth, rounded hip. Kurt feels the rigid thickness of it pushing then pressing back again and bites down on Blaine’s lip with a cry, body trembling with the torturous anticipation of knowing he’ll soon be feeling it closer, deeper,everywhere.

It’s not long until the hand gripping his waist is making its way downward, landing on his right ass cheek and kneading roughly. Kurt pulls away from Blaine’s face, whispering a frenzied fuck into his ear as Blaine, reprieved of kissing duties, takes Kurt’s other cheek in hand, spreading the mounds of his ass apart as he attempts to peer over Kurt’s shoulder.

“Blaine, fuck—”

“You know what I want to do?” Blaine’s voice is low, genuinely thick with arousal in a way Kurt’s never heard before despite past attempts at dirty talk.

“Tell me,” Kurt feels the air between his cheeks, blood rushing to his face. To think, there’s only a curtain separating them from the outside world. If anyone surprised them by walking in right now they’d be greeted by the sight of his spread, quivering ass, Blaine’s tawny hands holding him open. “Blaine, fuck, tell me.”

“I want to use my mouth on you…I want to lick you.”

“Your mouth?” Confusion momentarily occludes Kurt’s arousal. Blaine had the frenzied look on his face of a man who’d made a shameful confession, but they weren’t new to mouths. Mouths were their go-to.

“I want it here,” One of Blaine’s hands moves toward the split cleft between his cheeks, a fingertip running down his crack and pausing suggestively at his rim. Kurt gasps, actually fucking gasps of all things, but can’t find it in him to feel embarrassed when Blaine only applies a little more pressure in response. Kurt’s nerve endings feel electrified and he’s pushing back against Blaine’s finger with a breathy whimper. Blaine wants to — with his mouth — there — fuck —

“Can I?” Blaine inquires when Kurt only continues wordlessly exhaling, the pressure of his finger spreading as he traces it down Kurt’s crack and up again.

“Blaine. Yes. Fuck. Are you sure you—”

Blaine simply moves out from under him in reply, allowing Kurt to land flat against the mattress with a quiet thunk as he crawls to the end of the bed.

“Can you get on all fours for me?”

Kurt complies, using the opportunity to quickly squeeze a hand around his cock, the momentary relief so profound he actually feels tears stinging the backs of his eyes. He must make an obscene noise as he reluctantly lets go, because Blaine chuckles as he presses a soft kiss to the base of Kurt’s spine.

Blaine puts his hands back on Kurt’s ass with a groan. “I love your ass, Kurt, have I ever told you how much I love your ass?” Kurt wants to reply no, or at least not ever before diving into it face-first but then Blaine is rubbing soft lips at the topmost edge of his crack and he immediately loses his capacity to vocalize signifying syllables.

Blaine licks the same spot, tongue slipping for just a second between to reach inside the cleft.

“Guhh— fuck!”

“You’re so long and thin all over but your ass still manages to be so round and full and perky, it doesn’t even make sense, I can’t wait to see the inside, I’ve been dreaming of doing this to you since before we ever even had sex for the first time.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt manages to spit out, and Blaine must be drunker than Kurt had estimated because he’s never heard him like this before, not ever, not when Santana had convinced the two of them to drop X with her during Rachel’s opening night celebration and Blaine had dragged him into a public bathroom to unabashedly rut against his leg, desperate and sweating and mumbling overblown compliments into Kurt’s neck.

Blaine grubs the edge of his nose along his crack. “I’m going to spread you open now, is that okay? Is this still okay?”

Kurt feels a dizzying twist just behind his navel, unsure if it’s arousal, nervousness, or some nausea-inducing mixture of both. He sputters out a feverish YES either way, limbs wobbling where he’s holding himself up. Yes, yes, yes.

Blaine finally parts his cheeks and it takes everything in Kurt not to push back with enough force to knock him off the bed and to the ground before sitting on his face. Blaine stays still for several prolonged moments, breathing heavily. Kurt hazards a glance over his shoulder and sees him staring, hazel eyes glassy and wide.

Against his better judgement, self-consciousness settles in. It’s not the first time Blaine’s been near his asshole, but he’s never been unfurled like this before, cracked open in yellow-tinged lamplight while Blaine carefully scrutinizes his naked hole. He feels himself tighten and hopes Blaine can’t tell.

“Wow, Kurt,” Blaine exhales finally, voice heavy with something Kurt can’t immediately identify.

“Yeah?” He knows his worry is palpable, but he can’t contain it. This is a level of exposure he hadn’t breached even in his wildest, most sleep-addled fantasies. He’s about to shift his legs closer together and tell Blaine that it’s okay if he’s changed his mind about all this when a throaty groan stops him.

“How does every inch of you manage to be so pretty? You could be a porn star.”

Kurt laughs at that, relieved and basking in the renewed upsurge of heat that rushes through him. “Well, I guess if this whole ‘performing arts’ thing doesn’t work out…”

Blaine blows a stream of breath directly on his hole. Kurt jumps with a squeak.

“No, no, no…this is for me only.”

Then his wet tongue is circling Kurt’s rim vigorously and Kurt thinks his brain is going to melt right out of his nostrils as he cries out, shaking all over. Blaine alternates between licking over and around with hard, persistent strokes, making humming, contented noises and the occasional, pointedly obscene slurping sound. Kurt isn’t entirely sure what Blaine is getting out of this exactly, but this may be his new favorite thing they’ve tried ever: every nerve ending in his ass feels like it’s come to vibrant new life and he had no idea everything could feel so sensitive down there.

As Blaine gets bolder, Kurt becomes increasingly aware of how much of his face he’s managed to bury between his ass cheeks. He’s never been more thankful for his obsessive need to scrub and rinse and douche himself within an inch of his life before. He feels open and shameless in all his pristine almond-scented glory, gently pushing back against Blaine’s face and emitting unabashed trills of pleasure as Blaine continues licking him open in broad, unpredictable patterns. Kurt can feel Blaine’s saliva dripping down his crack and the way his hole keeps contracting and widening up again, winking open and closed under the relentless attentions of Blaine’s mouth. If it were anyone else he’d be mortified by the way his pucker is twitching seemingly of its own volition, but it’s Blaine and he knows he can trust him with this, with the most intimate and lewd gesticulations of his sex-ravished body.

When Blaine pokes the hardened tip of his tongue directly into Kurt’s hole, Kurt actually feels his arms give out as he flops forward, face pressing against the mattress, mouth open and eyes screwed shut as he clenches around the thick appendage squirming inside him.

“Ungh, Blaine, fuck, please, I can’t, I need—”

Blaine removes his tongue just long enough to run his fingers over the soaked, taxed area, pushing the tip of one inside and rubbing soothing circles over Kurt’s lower back.

“You’re so hot, Kurt, god, I’m so hard, can I fuck you now, please?”

“Yes, god, yes, wait, let me just—” Kurt pulls himself upright and turns to look at Blaine, whose face looks as sloppily spit-covered as Kurt’s ass feels. Kurt laughs, breathless and strained in his state of painful, chest-tight arousal, and pulls a towel from the nightstand, carefully wiping Blaine’s face up before laying it beneath them, shifting toward the edge of the bed and positioning Blaine until he’s seated at the head, back resting against the wall behind them.

He straddles himself across Blaine’s lap and presses his mouth to the shell of his ear. “I want to ride you,” he teases, awaiting a response. It’s not usually meant as a request or a question, but Blaine has been so, so good to him tonight that he’s more willing to negotiate on the position he’ll be penetrated in than he has been in the past.

Blaine, however, has no argument to pose, eyes wide and voice guttural as he mumbles “Kurt, wow, yes,” reaching into the nightstand to retrieve lube. “Condom?” Blaine asks, eyeing Kurt carefully.

Kurt hesitates. They’ve used them in the past when engaging in anal, always at Kurt’s own urging. But. They’ve been recently tested and they’re both clean health-wise (and Kurt knows he’s clean in a much more literal sense as well.) “No,” he decides, tilting his chin up. “I want to feel you. Really feel you.”

Kurt is suddenly reminded of the way that first proposition — I want to go to your house — had felt on his tongue all those years ago, feels a tingle in his freshly licked-out asshole and a thrum in his agonizingly stiff cock. He needs to be riding Blaine, feeling him, stat. “Fuck, Blaine, we talk too much, stick a finger or five in me already.”

Kurt carefully balances himself over Blaine’s lap to ensure he has ready access to his ass, gripping onto a muscled shoulder to steady himself and spreading his thighs as far apart as humanly possible.

He keeps an eye on Blaine’s long, graceful hands as he squeezes ample amounts of lubricant across his fingers, and wills himself not to focus on whether or not it’s in any danger of dripping onto the small piece of the mattress not protected by the towel. He’s straddling his impossibly attractive fiancé (who just ate his ass out and genuinely enjoyedit), holding himself open, and gently pressing his cock against the soft mound of Blaine’s stomach. All that matters right now is that Blaine gets something inside — and fuck, yes, there it is.

“I don’t know about five, but how do just the two feel?” Blaine asks, fingers slowly sliding in.

“They feel amazing,” Kurt manages between soft gasps, rocking back and forth against and around the two fingers now pumping their way into him. He arches his back, leaning away from Blaine with a sharp intake of breath when the new angle focuses the pressure more firmly against his prostate. Whimpering helplessly as he clenches around Blaine’s digits, Kurt is only faintly cognizant of Blaine’s other hand working beneath him as he lubes himself up.

“Do you need more fingers?”

“No, I think I’m good, just let me sit on your dick.”

“Okay.” Blaine stops touching himself and shifts slightly, cock twitching. Kurt bites his lip at the sight of it, firm and flushed, uncovered and wet, before he can’t stand teasing himself any longer and wraps a hand around the base, keeping it carefully in place as he aims for his entrance and lowers himself onto it.

“Success,” he exclaims lamely when he feels the tell-tale sting that means the head has popped inside, but Blaine doesn’t seem to hear him, throwing his head back against the wall with a strangled sound.

“Oh my god. This feels so good. You’re so hot inside.”

Kurt flushes, ecstatic at the thrill of Blaine’s naked cock inside him but fighting also the vague unease settling atop his shoulders. There’s always a flickering moment of panic where it feels uncomfortable and suddenly inescapable and everything in him wants to eject eject eject, but he looks down, locks eyes with Blaine, and remembers that the power to stop this at any moment is indisputably his. He rolls his head back and continues sinking down at the pace that makes his heart rate escalate even as he grows mentally calmer. Take it, take it, take it he chants internally, running his fingers through Blaine’s gel-stiff hair, moaning as he forces his body to accept the intrusion it wants to resist.

Kurt lives for this moment, when what feels like surrender deliciously hardens into dominion over his person instead, where he pushes past his compulsory need to close up and finds the more self-affirming power in overcoming his own unconscious instincts. Kurt is so steely, so guarded, so quiet always, butthis is where he can transgress the anxious quirks that counterintuitively fetter him down even as they attempt to keep him in control. He pushes down with force until Blaine’s as far in as he can get, crying out as the burn creeps up his spine.

Blaine is panting, gripping Kurt’s back as Kurt tilts himself even further back to adjust to the fullness nestled inside him. “Is this — ungh — is this okay? Are you good?”

“Yes, god, yes, just give me a second and I’ll start moving—”

Blaine moans, leans forward and takes a pert nipple into his mouth. The added sensation distracts Kurt from the temporarily narrow-minded focus on his ass and he breathes out Blaine’s name, grateful. Blaine works the nipple between his teeth, treating it to hungry licks that forcibly recall the attention paid to Kurt’s hole earlier. With the memory of Blaine’s face against that most vulnerable of places, Kurt thrusts upward and down again, delighting in the muffled sound of Blaine’s wail against his chest. The burn fades in favor of a blunt pressure that hits the smooth nub of his prostate with every plunge, and Kurt bounces frantically, desperate to feel more, move faster, the sweat that’s been beading up under his hairline dripping down his face from mingled exertion and pleasure.
“Fuck, Blaine, ungh, ungh,” He’s so full, with jolts shooting up his bouncing ass, through his cock and to the nipple Blaine is still lapping with a tongue between growly yelps. He’s fucking himself down and up onto Blaine’s cock with a rhythm so hysterical Kurt isn’t sure how much longer his burning thighs will be capable of holding him up.

Blaine’s licks are growing more erratic, his noises more low-pitched, and Kurt can tell he’s close. He could probably keep this up for hours, pounding Blaine’s dick against his swelling, increasingly sensitive prostate, but the state of his own cock grows more urgent as it occasionally rubs against Blaine’s tummy and he knows he should let them both come.

“Blaine, touch me, I’m close, you feel so good inside me, feel so stretched and full and open, touch me, please please please—”

Blaine pulls away from Kurt’s nipple to wrap a still lube-slick hand around Kurt’s pink, dripping dick, pumping away with hard, measured movements. Kurt howls, high and breathy, his hips working furiously as he alternates between fucking himself down on Blaine’s cock and then up into his slippery fist, all his thoughts screaming Blaine Blaine Blaine Blaine, unsure if he’s only thinking it or breathing it aloud. Kurt’s gripping his shoulder so tight that the whole length of his arm is shaking, and with a particularly forceful jounce downward and an expert twist of Blaine’s hand Kurt is coming in spurts across his belly and chest, choking noises filling the thick air of the room as he clamps down around the cock inside him.

Gasping and seeing white, Kurt’s hips still as he slumps down against Blaine, sore and loose and fucked-out all over. They’re both still for a few heavy moments until Blaine issues a weak whine and Kurt realizes he’s still rock-hard inside him. He presses his mouth against Blaine’s neck, whispers into his ear, “I can’t move, just fuck me.”

Blaine grips Kurt’s hips hard enough to bruise and thrusts into him, so hard and fast that it hurts, Kurt’s body limply bouncing up and down like he’s feather-light with limbs made of jelly. Satiated as he is, he still loves this, feeling-watching-listening to Blaine spiral closer and closer to climax as he fucks into Kurt recklessly.

“Fuck me, yeah, come inside me, Blaine,” Kurt eggs him on, gulping when Blaine reacts by moving faster. Kurt is so, so sensitive and fire-hot inside. He’s ready for Blaine to finish up but also wants him to take all the time he needs, wants him to come so hard he reaches the brink of passing out. Kurt starts clenching and unclenching around Blaine where he’s pumping in again again again, finds the strength to reach down and pinch a nipple, and watches triumphantly as Blaine’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he comes with a final push and a mangled cry.

Blaine releases his brutal grip on Kurt’s hips, slumping back onto the headboard with a breathless laugh. Kurt kisses him on the tip of the nose before gently pulling himself off him, Blaine’s limp cock sliding and falling wetly onto his thigh.

“Wow, Kurt, that was…wow.” Blaine’s chest is heaving and he has a hand resting on his forehead.

Kurt smiles smugly, nestling next to Blaine on the bed. “Oh god, I think I can feel your come in me,” Kurt wrinkles his nose. “We should shower.”

“I’m going to need at least ten minutes before I can convince my muscles to do anything.” Blaine is flushed and shining with sweat, hair rigidly sticking up where Kurt had run his fingers through it earlier. He’s looking at Kurt fondly, eyes warm and awed.

Kurt sits up, proud even as his soreness spikes with the movement. “Well, thrilled as I am to have worn you out so efficiently, I’m going to go ahead and get a shower running. You can join me when you’ve regained the use of all your parts.”

“No, Kurt, wait, stay with me for a second.” Blaine stops him with a gentle hand to his forearm.

“Blaine, you know I don’t like feeling all—”

“I know. Can we talk about that more? The…cleanliness stuff?”

Kurt frowns. He’d really hoped they’d gotten that over with, though realistically he’d been aware they hadn’t really broached the topic at all. “Blaine, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or…or weird, it’s just a thing I have, it’s fine. It’s mine to deal with, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Of course I do. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do all that…I don’t know, whatever it is you do, just for me.”

“It’s not for you, it’s for me,” Kurt snaps, and he’s not sure why he’s angry.

“Okay, okay,” Blaine’s voice is soft, cautious. Kurt immediately feels guilty, but not guilty enough to say anything in response. “I get that, I do. And I want you to do whatever it is you need to do to be comfortable when we’re together like this.”

“Great. Glad that’s resolved, I’m going to go shower now.”

Blaine sighs. “Kurt, can you please just—”

“What?”

“Listen to me?”

Kurt closes his eyes, frustrated, but leans back into bed. He invites Blaine to speak with a vexed raise of an eyebrow.

“Can you at least let me watch you the next time you do it?”

Kurt stiffens, biting back his desire to say absolutely not and leave it at that. He knows he’s been aggressive enough as it is, and he doesn’t want to instigate an argument that’ll ruin the bliss of his post-orgasm afterglow even worse than this conversation already has. “I don’t know, Blaine,” is all he offers in the stead of his preferred response.

“Why not?” Blaine isn’t pressing, just genuinely curious, and the openness on his face weakens Kurt’s resolve to stubbornly deflect away from the discussion at hand.

“I love having sex with you, Blaine. But it, and especially this, is really intense, and I just need some space with…parts of it. The bathroom stuff is just my way of coming into it on my own terms. And you know me, I like things clean. This gets messy enough as it is,” He stares pointedly down at their sweat-soaked bodies and the cum-stained towel lying just beneath them.

“Okay,” Blaine says, a little sadly, and Kurt knows that his need for space always bothers him. Blaine can’t help but read it as rejection. It makes Kurt ache to see the way his eyes dim.

“I can maybe…walk you through what I do, though? So it’s not mysterious. And that way if you ever wanted to be, you know, on the receiving end, you wouldn’t have to worry about wondering if you’re doing anything wrong. Not that you’d have to do all that just for me…” Kurt trails off, looking down.

“But you’d prefer it.”

“Yes,” Kurt confesses. “I’m sorry. I know I can be…difficult.”

“No! Kurt, no. You don’t have to be sorry. I love you so much. I just want to understand, and I think I do. And I’d love for you to walk me through it, whenever you’d feel comfortable enough to.”

Blaine’s whole face has brightened, smile wide. His teeth are still wine-stained, and Kurt has never felt more compelled to kiss him, so he does.

“I love you, too.” Kurt stands up with a light slap to Blaine’s hip, trying not to visibly wince as the lube-and-cum-smeared mounds of his ass rub against each other. He picks up the bottle of wine sitting atop the nightstand and brings it to his mouth. “Let me know when you’re ready to join me and this bottle of wine in the shower,” he teases with a wink.

“Mmmm. My two babies. I’ll throw this towel in the washing machine and then I’ll be right there.”

Kurt takes a long, decadent swig of merlot, beams in Blaine’s direction, and doesn’t let himself wonder if his teeth are stained purple. Moving to the bathroom, he turns the shower head on and steps inside, closing the curtain and gingerly placing the bottle on the floor just outside the tub. He lets the steaming water beat against his face and down his back, breathing heavily. When several minutes have passed without sight or sound of Blaine, he cautiously pokes his head outside the curtain, noting that the washing machine is running in the distance.

It isn’t until several more minutes have passed that Kurt realizes Blaine is purposefully allowing him some shower time for himself. By the time Blaine steps inside with a contented smirk, Kurt has washed the worse of the mess away in privacy.

He puts a hand on Blaine’s ass and nibbles on his ear lobe. “Wash up,” he sighs into Blaine’s ear. “I’m going to blow you.”

“Oh!” Blaine widens his pretty eyes, hand already going for the soap. “And what have I done to deserve that?”

“You just get me,” Kurt concludes, and drops gracefully onto his knees.