Author: Regala Electra
Spoilers: S2 New York
Warnings: Sexual Content, Language
Word Count: 7,620
Summary: There’s a pause where Blaine looks like he’s about to jump over the table and well, do something to Kurt. Something that is not appropriate when Rachel Berry is in the room. All he says is, “You called me honey.” Wherein Kurt has sexy plans, Blaine uses too many puns, and Rachel Berry is a New York sensation (at least according to her twitter followers).
Author’s Notes: It’s a love letter to New York even with a large part of this fic being set in Times Square. (That’s okay, two kids from Ohio don’t know any better.) I started writing this because man, sailors during Fleet Week are flirty and because the trio of Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine in New York is so my favorite. Banter, adorable boyfriends, role-playing and early summer in NYC: what’s not to love?
He’s been wandering around Times Square for an hour and still can’t find Blaine. This is perhaps not Kurt Hummel’s finest plan.
But it had really seemed like a good idea at the time.
Blaine slows to a halt when a group of sailors walk past them. “Kurt—”
“Mmm?” Kurt’s walk-texting Mercedes to recount a particularly irritating incident with an obnoxious NYU freshman trying to jump ahead of him and Blaine while they were waiting for brunch at Prune. He looks up and notices the minor fleet of white uniforms walking in the other direction and says, “I didn’t hear anything about a revival of On the Town.”
“It’s Fleet Week,” Blaine says in a revered hush, a wide grin threatening to split his face in two.
Before Kurt can think of something witty to say as he lives to tease Blaine about his continued affection for guys in uniform (really shouldn’t his time at Dalton have killed that fantasy?), he sees one of the sailors turn his head and oh. Kurt has a few blind spots. One of them is that his gaydar can be defined as eternally faulty. But that look being thrown in his direction? That is near indecent flirting.
He almost feels a need to apologize to Blaine for it. The novelty of getting hit on by not-Blaine people is still very strange, despite the few jaunts they’ve taken to gay friendly clubs and other places that let in under-21 year olds. He’s only nineteen and he feels so very coupled (not married, because that would be weird and married people don’t have young ingénue roommates a wall’s width away from their bedroom).
He kind of wants to shout, I’m sorry but I’m very taken.
Instead, Kurt smiles back at the sailor as he seeks Blaine’s hand out at the same time and finds the fit’s perfect as always. As he laces their fingers together, he’s surprised that Blaine’s hand is cooler than expected in the early summer heat.
“I’d be jealous,” Blaine says, bringing their joined hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of Kurt’s hand. “But I definitely see the appeal.”
Another flock of white uniforms pass by in the afternoon when they’re at their favorite bar. They’re relaxing after merciless hunt for the perfect summer hat in which Kurt scored a decisive victory.
Yes, they’re very underage but they really like hanging out at this bar, inability to purchase alcohol be damned.
The blistering post-rain heat is miserable in Chelsea and Kurt’s found his coffee requirements have been well met after he and Blaine had finished their respective finals. So he’s banned cafés for their afternoon break and there’s something special about a near empty bar and watching the city walk on by.
They’re both spending most of the summer in New York. There are internships to be had, as well as part-time jobs, and best of all, adventures.
These are excellent reasons not to go to Ohio though Kurt’s got a plane ticket purchased with a return after three weeks because he can’t help it: he misses his dad. Blaine will be in Ohio for a week and a half. When he purchased the ticket, he’d casually asked Kurt if it’s okay that he spends most of his time at Kurt’s house. Or, as Kurt had reflexively corrected him, his dad’s house.
Kurt’s waiting for the day when calling their apartment home feels absolutely right. It’s so close.
The only bartender on staff during the afternoon doesn’t mind serving them soda as long as they know to leave once the 9-to-5ers arrive to cool off after work. Which they’re planning on; there’s a screening that Blaine’s been dying to see on about the history of pianos starting at 7:30. Kurt has asked Blaine not to spoil the movie for him so that he can be surprised.
The things he does for love.
He also plans on surprising Blaine after the movie’s over with a fun game of how many places can we make out at before you beg me to take you home and fuck you, a game Kurt’s gotten a little competitive about as the days have gotten hotter and longer.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You,” Kurt says because Blaine’s smile is beautiful.
Blaine sets down their new round of drinks, ducking down to peek out of the open storefront window. It’s a large windowsill, obviously a smoker’s perch to get around the smoking ban, but it being an unusual place to sit on is invite enough for Blaine. Kurt decides to remain seated on the stool beside the small window-side table.
He waits for Blaine to take a sip before he asks, “You don’t mind me measuring you later tonight, right?”
He’s not a vindictive person, per se, but he hasn’t exactly let Blaine ever forget that the first time Blaine told him he loved him, Kurt had been in the middle of taking a rather large sip of coffee. That could’ve turned into a much less romantic situation had Kurt choked instead of the memory they both are still giddy over, two years later. Seriously: give a guy a moment to finish his coffee before making his year. A burnt esophagus does not a romance make.
Blaine’s good though, he manages to swallow before saying, tears in his eyes and his voice a little harsh, “That all depends. Um. What are you measuring?”
Kurt can’t help dropping his eyes down to where Blaine’s jeans are doing wonderful, wonderful things for him. “It’s not always about that you know.”
“Really? Like you aren’t planning on seducing me when the movie’s over.”
“Blaine, I’m pretty sure we’re past seduction now that we’ve been living together for months,” Kurt says dryly. He’d have followed it up with a cocked eyebrow but Blaine’s expression is so openly happy at mentioning them living together that Kurt can’t help but reach out to him, pulling him close so he can deliver the a quick kiss. “I love you, too.”
“I didn’t say it first,” Blaine says a little dreamily, slowly opening his eyes.
“Oh? Guess I’ll have to make up for that.”
Kurt checks out of the movie around the time the narrator nearly cries over some piano factory closing and sets his thoughts to more entertaining diversions. He’s mentally mapping out all the places he’ll kiss and touch Blaine later and the exact street corners he plans on attacking Blaine with his mouth and hands. When the lights come back once the credits roll, he doesn’t exactly run out of the theater but he does lead Blaine on the chase he’d been mentally choreographing for the past hour and a half.
It is exactly as frustrating and hot as Kurt thought it would be, only better.
They manage to catch a 1 train just as it pulls into the station. Which is good because they’re both indecently hard and there’s no way of them being all that decent on the subway platform or the train itself.
Thankfully there are only a handful of passengers in the subway car. Blaine pulls him into a corner so they can sit together and merely hold hands, like they’re some newly dating couple. Kurt wonders when exactly you supposed to stop falling in love with your boyfriend. Isn’t there supposed to be a point where it all levels out?
He doesn’t care about the answer, not when Blaine’s breath is hot against his neck and he begs, “Kurt, I need you.”
They both need each other is the thing, so by the time they’re in the apartment any pretense of teasing Blaine is gone. Kurt is so very grateful that Rachel has taken to some bizarre late night singers’ collective. While there’s something to be said for trying to drive Blaine wild and keep quiet at the same time, Kurt’s rather fond of how noisy they can get.
He’s almost slammed into the kitchen table when Blaine comes up behind him, sucking at that spot not quite on his neck, almost at the starting point of his shoulder. It’s one that’s impossible to reach when they’re face to face and damn Blaine for knowing how easily it makes Kurt’s knees weak.
Clothes are a complete hindrance and when he pushes Blaine away to start the inelegant process of peeling things off, Blaine says, “No, let me,” and leads him into their bedroom.
When they’re naked and the covers have been pulled away from the bed, the oscillating fan not doing much to offset the heat, Blaine grabs the lube out of the drawer and starts applying it messily to Kurt’s dick.
“Condom?” Kurt manages, trying in vain not to thrust into Blaine’s fist.
“No,” Blaine says, shamelessly staring at Kurt, a broken sigh as if just the sight of him is Blaine’s undoing. “Please. I just need—”
Words fail him but Blaine is quite apt at demonstrating, straddling over Kurt, the cleft of his ass rubbing against Kurt. He stops for a moment to dribble more lube in his hand and spreads it over his thighs and ass.
“Oh,” Kurt says, because he had neglected this wonderful option in his previous plotting.
He takes a hold of Blaine’s hand, still slick with lube and wraps it around Blaine’s dick. Hand over hand, he watches Blaine strokes himself, helping a little by adding a different twist just when Blaine thinks he’s in control of the pace. Kurt can’t help whisper a few things in the semi-darkness, how amazing Blaine is and how he can’t believe that they’re doing this, how he wants this to be his forever.
That’s it for Blaine, coming in spurts over his belly and their joined hands. He’s still trying to rock against Kurt but Blaine’s notoriously oversensitive when climaxing. Kurt pulls him down for lazy kissing, waiting for Blaine to come to his senses.
“I feel like a slip and slide,” Kurt says a little stupidly because really.
“My favorite ride,” Blaine says and Kurt can’t smack his boyfriend for that no matter how much he might want to. They have an agreement about puns, in that Blaine needs to stop making them. It doesn’t stop Kurt from stroking the curve of Blaine’s ass, digging in just a little.
Kurt bites Blaine’s bottom lip because he can. Dragging that groan out of Blaine is secretly Kurt’s favorite.
Leaning back a little, hand warm against Kurt’s chest, Blaine asks, “Do you want—my mouth?”
Kurt wants all of him but there’s something strange about voicing that so he nods, hating how awkward this can be, still. “Um, but the lube isn’t flavored, so—”
“Don’t care,” Blaine says, sliding down the bed. His mouth is warm against Kurt’s thigh as he strokes Kurt, nosing against Kurt’s balls, almost breathing in the scent of him. “It’ll be easier to taste you.”
Kurt lets his mind go then. It’s for the best because Blaine is truly eager to send Kurt into oblivion, dick first apparently.
Kurt really needs to come before he starts thinking in puns. Clearly Blaine is a terrible influence. Kurt is only keeping him around for the sex.
He might say that part out loud from the way Blain moans around his cock. Blaine pulls off to say in an almost sing-song, “That’s not true, you love me.”
Kurt really would have a fabulous response to that but Blaine doesn’t allow him the opportunity. Kurt’s coming in Blaine’s mouth, half-whispering Blaine’s name as answer.
He’s up early in the morning. The sun is his ultimate alarm clock and he’s not about to skip over his skincare routine because of an awesome sex life. Blaine is useless in the early hours and Kurt forgives him as he’ll be mostly awake by the time Kurt’s come back after picking up breakfast.
He sees a scribble of numbers on a pad on top of the bedside table and he laughs a little, surprised he remembered to measure Blaine post-orgasm. The last thing he really remembers is breathing Blaine in, even the parts that weren’t so pleasant, sex-drenched and sweaty, and mumbling a pointless goodnight in his arms.
Kurt and Blaine applaud Rachel when she shows up late for breakfast in obvious walk of shame fashion. Really, Kurt couldn’t be prouder even though it seems she wore open-toed heels with tights. Try as he might, Rachel’s fashion continues to be the bane of his existence.
“Well,” she says as haughtily as anyone can manage in a very rumpled summer dress, “when you are sexiled, sometimes you have to find lodging elsewhere.”
It is so ridiculous and Kurt is in such a good mood that he laughs, pushing a chair out from under the table, insisting she sit with them. “Relax, Rachel. I’m proud. You know, after—” Kurt cuts himself off lest he say Finn, a sore spot he doesn’t entirely understand.
They were all on the same page during senior year, and then Finn decided to stay in Ohio at the last minute. It took a full semester before the gleam in Rachel’s eye became the same manic sparkle he’d once feared and now strangely adores.
“I know and thank you, Kurt,” Rachel says, a little brisk, stealing half of Blaine’s cinnamon raisin bagel from his plate. She pulls the dough out of the middle of the bagel absentmindedly. “I had a lovely night.”
It almost sounds like she’s trying to prove that she made the right choice and is countering a judgment that Kurt hasn’t said.
Blaine is the one who takes charge, handing over the container of cream cheese, grasping her free hand for a moment. Sometimes Kurt is a little weirded out how they can have these big moments without words, but when Blaine wraps Rachel in a hug, he decides it’s best this way.
When they separate Rachel smiles a little, shaky. Kurt appreciates it when she doesn’t fake her emotions, though he’s never been foolish enough to say so to her face.
“I’ll be finding out if I’m getting that part today. If not, then I think perhaps I’ll do summer stock.”
“Where?” Blaine asks.
“Oh. Wherever,” she says, vaguely waving off in a direction that suggests she’s performing in the Hudson River. Or the apartment next door. “If I have to, I swear I’ll find a good subletter to cover my rent. Maybe Santana.”
“Santana?” Kurt asks a little skeptically while Blaine says excitedly, “Santana!”
Kurt shoots Blaine a look. He does not understand Blaine’s strange affection for Ms. Lopez. There is only so much that can be chalked up to a healthy appreciation for fierceness.
To this day, Blaine claims Kurt is still slightly jealous of their senior duets competition where Blaine and Santana basically song-fucked each other. Okay, yes Kurt can’t quite get over the dance that accompanied the song but someone might have wound up pregnant had clothes come off during the song and as Kurt has repeatedly pointed out, they almost did.
“Why exactly would Santana want to leave California for New York?” Kurt asks. “I vaguely recall her epic speech she gave during graduation, despite not being an official speaker, about her fabulous future and something about Birkenstocks in San Francisco.”
“Yes, I’m still a little upset she upstaged me,” Rachel agrees, nodding. “However she is willing to pay and I don’t want you two to be lonely.”
Rachel Berry is teasing him. Kurt doesn’t know if he can bear this indignity. Actually what he can’t suffer is Blaine laughing at Rachel’s joke. Well. He’ll have to be punished for that.
“So,” Kurt says brightly, clapping his hands together. “If your day consists of waiting for a phone call perhaps you could do me a favor and steal Blaine for the day?”
“Why?” Rachel asks warily.
“I have a little project I wanted to work on and Blaine unfortunately is such a distraction.” He sighs dramatically to really sell it but both Blaine and Rachel roll their eyes.
“Too much sex?” she asks to Blaine.
Kurt doesn’t see enough of Blaine blushing so he does have to give her a point for that. His flush starts so high on his cheeks.
“No,” Blaine says, looking down as he finishes off his coffee. “I mean, I think Kurt wants to have free time to go stare at the sailors in town.”
“Ooh,” Rachel says excitedly. “Is it Fleet Week?”
“How have you not noticed?” Kurt asks.
“I’ve been busy,” Rachel sniffs. “Working on my career.”
“We just finished our first year in college. I think career comes after that,” Blaine says, gently, and Kurt tries his best to bite his tongue.
It lasts precisely ten seconds.
“Says the man who’d jump at the chance to work on a cruise line for a few months.”
“It’s a good experience,” Blaine huffs, gathering the dishes. “I like boats.”
“He got nauseous that time we did the rowboats in Central Park,” Kurt confides to Rachel.
Blaine gasps. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Oh honey,” Kurt says. “Mercedes knew the moment after it happened.”
There’s a pause where Blaine looks like he’s about to jump over the table and well, do something to Kurt. Something that is not appropriate when Rachel Berry is in the room. All he says is, “You called me honey.”
“Oh my god, you two are so cute.”
Kurt looks at Rachel and realizes she’s been filming the last few minutes on her cell phone.
“What? If you let me upload these videos, you could be internet sensations!”
“No,” Kurt says. At a loss for words he turns to Blaine, arms out at his sides in exasperation. “Right?”
“Rachel,” Blaine says, directing her towards her bedroom. “What would you say to a serenade in Fort Tryon Park?”
“I think a duet would be much better.” Rachel pauses, hand against the door handle. “And only if my part is more significant, though of course I will be a revelation no matter the song selection.”
“Deal.” Blaine says and they actually shake on that. Kurt’s glad that his boyfriend and Rachel get along but it still astounds him how they are such utter nerds.
“A gentleman’s agreement?” Kurt says to Blaine as he starts washing up while Blaine ties up the garbage bag.
“One of us has to be.”
“Oh,” Kurt says, splashing a little water in his direction, “you are so lucky I’m attached to you, Blaine Anderson.”
“Yeah, I am,” he says, a little quietly. He nudges Kurt with his hip before going out to the hall to throw out the trash.
Kurt should feel guilty for his plans but once he’s got his heart set on a project and one that involves spending quality time with his sewing machine, he can’t be stopped.
They text him throughout the day, not to mention Rachel’s faithful twitter updates, many of which are attractive pictures of Blaine with comments like “sorry ladies, he’s taken” and “not by me, though we did have a tragic, brief courtship during his questioning phase.” Kurt tries not to think too much about Rachel’s followers and never looks at her @ replies.
Blaine had confessed he’s a little frightened of them; especially the ones who agree that Blaine is an excellent fallback plan should she decide to become a single mother. Kurt had decreed that any rom-coms about pregnancies, especially that oh so delightful “straight girl and gay bestie have a kid” sub-genre, were strictly banned from their movie nights after learning that little factoid.
His thoughts on kids are pretty much settled on this: after he wins a Tony, becomes the next Anna Wintour, and/or successfully launches one of his musicals to great acclaim, then he might consider becoming a dad.
Of course as he’s musing over this, he nearly fucks up a seam. “Damn it,” he says to the empty apartment, filled only with the sound of the sewing machine and his current iTunes playlist.
Pulling out the thread, he looks over at his phone, lit up with yet another text.
It’s Blaine, simple and perfect: wish you were here.
And because Kurt can’t help himself, he types out come home.
Taking a careful look at his garment, he amends it with in a couple of hours.
Rachel isn’t with Blaine when he’s finally back in the apartment, his skin warm from the sun.
It seems she had a gentleman caller of her own to visit Blaine had said, to which Kurt responded, Wonderful. That gives me an idea. I’ll cast you both in my new musical about time-traveling prostitutes with genteel manners. I’ll call it Something Something Hearts of Gold. Sounds catchy, right?
They’re taking in the late setting sun with a bottle of wine that Kurt really doesn’t care for but he does care for the way Blaine looks when he dips his head back to take a long sip out of the wineglass. It would be wrong to attack the line of Blaine’s throat and they’re past the age when hickeys are cute. At least, Kurt pretends that they are because his summer collection of scarves needs some serious updating.
“I have a surprise for you,” Kurt finally says, feeling warm and languid from the alcohol. He’s a lightweight, he knows, but achieving the first stage of drunkenness is his favorite part—not so much the inglorious hangover he suffered during the Chablis Incident of 2009.
“Well, we are all alone in this apartment. Whatever could it be?”
Kurt leads him into the bedroom, Blaine’s arms wrapped around his waist, which makes walking something of an event. Kurt doesn’t even know how he manages to turn around without clocking Blaine in the face. He settles his arms around Blaine’s shoulders.
They take a few steps together and it’s almost like dancing. The plan almost flies out of Kurt’s head when Blaine brushes his cheek against Kurt’s. He remembers that one time Blaine specifically went to a barber for a straight razor shave and how smooth Blaine’s cheek had felt. Kurt had been unable to stop touching it, because it was so unlike Blaine’s constant stubble.
Blaine had asked him if it felt better and Kurt had only said it was different. Then he’d told Blaine that he liked the heavy beard growth, that Blaine didn’t have to ever worry about his hair because every part of him was amazing. Except your hands he’d whispered and when Blaine had pulled back, worried, Kurt had laughed and said because they’re not on me.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Dancing,” Kurt says because it’s the easiest way to explain it.
“We haven’t been out dancing in a while,” Blaine says, then confesses, “I might have spun Rachel around a few times when we were singing Let’s Do It, Let’s Fall in Love.”
“You’ll pay for that.” Blaine laughs because he thinks Kurt’s joking. It’s another failure of coordination to dislodge from Blaine. He does wind up stepping on Blaine’s foot, muttering an apology before offering to kiss him and make it better, which he does.
“Wait, I really did want to show you something. In my closet.”
Kurt does not miss the little noise Blaine makes, though Blaine tries his best to hide it.
It’s a thing that’s kind of amazing about being in a relationship—that they care about these little secrets about each other. Blaine’s got a perversely dirty mind and Kurt frequently leaves himself open for Blaine to take things the wrong way. In a good way, if that makes sense, which it shouldn’t, but it does.
It’s not always about sex but when it is, it’s kind of astounding how much he adores how adventurous Blaine can be.
He knows they’re not like, kinky or anything. He’s heard quite a few sex stories from fellow classmates that have had him wanting to very politely run away from those conversations screaming. According to those anecdotes, Kurt’s realized they fit into that bizarre definition of normal when applied to a regular sex life. Though Kurt is not a details sharer when asked up front and he shrugs whenever someone tries to shame him by calling him so vanilla.
He takes it as a compliment for his complexion.
But. They aren’t a swooning chaste couple. When Kurt opens the closet door to proudly show off the outfit he’s constructed in a miraculous Project Runway worthy amount of time, he can’t help but smirk. He’s been dying to see how it looks on Blaine.
“A sailor suit?”
“You’ll look stunning in white,” Kurt says confidently as he takes the shirt off the hanger. “Try it on, I need to check on the fit.”
Blaine looks like he’s going to protest for a moment. In truth, Kurt almost expects as much, to be told how weird he’s being but all Blaine says is, “This does something for you?”
“What can I say? I fell in love with a man in a uniform. Guess it made a lasting impression.”
Taking his shirt off, Blaine says,” It’s kind of unfair how you can get me to do stuff because I love you.”
“Shut up,” Kurt says fondly. “Take off your pants.”
Blaine hesitates with the uniform, eyeing the inside of the pants. “You didn’t leave any pins in here?”
“Blaine, I spent a day with my sewing machine. You think I’d take a shortcut?”
Blaine mutters guess not as he dresses.
The trousers look fine, the first time Kurt’s gotten the hem correctly, so used to hemming pants for his own length since Blaine’s legs are shorter. He slides his hand over Blaine’s crotch, innocently claiming, “Just checking the inseam.”
“It’s fine,” Blaine grits out, resisting an evident urge to thrust forward in Kurt’s palm.
Kurt doesn’t say yeah it is because that’s a Blaine seduction line and he’d hate to take it away from him. “I just need to do a little adjusting of the sleeves, maybe. It’s not sitting right.”
His hands yank at the sleeves from the top of the shirt, testing out the material.
“Careful, you’re going to tear your work apart.”
Kurt stares at Blaine, dumbfounded. “My workmanship is superior. I know exactly what I’m doing. Unless you’d like to help?”
Blaine laughs, pulling the shirt over his head and handing it to Kurt. He airily salutes him. “Yes, sir.”
“Okay,” Kurt says, putting the shirt back on the hanger, “we’re not doing that. That is not hot.”
“But an all white uniform? One that I’ll wind up sweating through, that’s hot?”
“Life is unfair,” Kurt says slipping his hands below the waistband, dangerous close to Blaine’s dick. He slides his left hand to the sharp cut of muscle that delineates the start of Blaine’s thigh. “You’ll just have to suck it up.”
Blaine groans and Kurt tries really hard not to let his victory smirk show, burying his face against Blaine’s neck. There are quite a few words that Kurt has learned will render Blaine absolutely dumbstruck. Suck is one of them.
Kurt is perhaps a little merciless with it.
“You have orders tonight, sailor.”
“Yes. I’ve looked at the Fleet Week schedule and it appears tonight they’re going to be milling around Times Square. Your mission, should you choose to accept, is to wander around there looking for one good man.”
Blaine pulls back, warily. “Kurt, I do love you, but I don’t want to open our relationship to anyone else.”
“Um, I never really thought you’d want a threesome, so—”
“Blaine,” Kurt says, “I am confident about the many things I want, but above all else, I am not sharing you with someone else. I meant, well, I guess it’s a fantasy, but picture meeting me, you have only a week, less than that really, and we see each other in one of the busiest places in the world and—”
“Oh,” Blaine says, finally getting it.
Kurt sees Blaine off in front of the subway station entrance, as Blaine needs to be at least one train ride ahead of Kurt. People might be staring but Kurt only has eyes on Blaine. In particular, on Blaine’s hands readjusting the neckerchief.
He stills Blaine’s hands. “Leave it on.”
“You’ll find me, right? It would be sort of mortifying to have actual sailors realize I’m an impostor. I don’t even know if there’s a law against it but maybe we should just go back to our bedroom—”
“Blaine, I’ll find you.”
He’s been wandering around Times Square for an hour and a half.
Kurt still can’t find Blaine.
Dejected, he’s about ready to end the game with a quick text before he sees a crowd of sailors cheering on someone who seems to be hopping around on the TKTS bleachers.
“Oh for the love of,” he says, perhaps a bit too loudly, but he doesn’t care.
Kurt pushes past the crowds gawking at the bright lights, twisting around people that have stopped in the middle of walkways for no reason at all. Soon he’s a part of the mixed crowd of civilian and Navy, their hoots and cheers almost drowning out the voice of a guy he loves, truly he does, but he’d have thought Rachel would’ve tired Blaine out of this today.
There’s an opening in the song, because of course Blaine would pick this one and despite not being warmed up at all, Kurt belts the next line. It straddles the danger zone between his chest and head voice but somehow he works it as he walks up the stands.
“’Touch of her skin feeling silky smooth,” he sings as he wonders what exactly possessed Blaine to pick Lady Marmalade and not only that, but to do the Moulin Rouge! version.
Blaine picks up on the chorus and they somehow finish the song to a round of applause.
“Now,” Blaine says to the crowd, smiling, grabbing Kurt and dipping him backwards into an embrace. “I’m off to celebrate this victory.”
They don’t kiss, not really, but the crowd is noisy nonetheless. While Kurt’s sometimes sure they’ll meet some kind of a breaking point, a hateful insult hurled at them simply because they exist, it doesn’t happen.
Or rather, he doesn’t let himself hear it as no one is going to ruin this as he and Blaine hold hands while they run down the stands and through the crowd. The beating of his heart from the adrenaline is enough of a soundtrack over the noise of Times Square.
This being a terrible idea?
Scratch that, this is Kurt Hummel’s best plan ever. He steals Blaine’s hat, which is actually his own, one of the random accessories he couldn’t bear to leave in Ohio. They take a taxi once they walk past Ninth Avenue. A little indulgence never hurt anybody and it’s an excuse to eat their hard-earned frozen yogurt although Kurt lets his almost melt away as he stares at Blaine licking off his spoon. Fortunately he doesn’t spill any in the taxi but his fingers are a little sticky.
When they pay the fare, Blaine glances down at Kurt’s hands and says, “I can take care of that.”
They’re standing outside their apartment building when Kurt almost leaps into Blaine’s arms.
“Sorry I was late.”
Blaine smiles, settling the hat better on Kurt’s head, pushing a fallen lock of hair under the hat. “Figured out that it was a little hard to track me in a sea of white, huh?”
“It wasn’t a sea.”
“You’re right.” The corner of Blaine’s mouth twitches for a moment and Kurt almost covers Blaine’s mouth with his hand but it’s too late. “Times Square was swarming with sea men.”
“You did that. You actually just did that and that’s like, the ultimate joke that we do not do, Blaine.”
“Guess you’ll just have to do me.”
Kurt does shut up Blaine this time, his tongue slipping into Blaine’s mouth with ruthless abandon as he tugs them closer. People are staring and that’s okay, Kurt’s totally scoring some hot sailor ass tonight and best of all, it’s his boyfriend.
They struggle with the keys as they head into the apartment building, stumbling up the stairs like they’re drunk, occasionally slamming each other into the wall to press a sloppy kiss with emphasis. The mouth, the face, the neck, their lips go everywhere. Kurt even pulls Blaine’s shirt up to press a kiss just above Blaine’s navel.
Somehow they stumble backwards into their apartment and a horrible MTV Cribs-esque thought creeps into his mind: this is where the magic happens. He has to reel back and take a breather.
“What?” Blaine asks.
“It’s nothing.” Kurt dives back towards Blaine’s mouth and tries desperately to ignore the cheesy puns building up in his head.
Blaine is a little sweaty, and maybe Kurt is too. Tourist dodging is almost a sport these days and they had quite the workout.
He rakes his fingers through Blaine’s curls. They’re loosened from the running and humidity. Kurt can tell where the hat flattened his hair and does his best to mess it up further.
“God,” Blaine mumbles against Kurt’s mouth, “I always want to fall asleep when you give me a scalp massage.”
Kurt makes a hmm noise as he considers that. He casts a pretend critical eye at Blaine. “Do you need a nap? Because you could sleep in Rachel’s room tonight if you really need—”
It’s Blaine’s turn now to shut him up with a kiss, one that strays from his mouth just as Kurt whimpers into it, gliding across his face the better for Blaine to bite Kurt’s earlobe. As the pressure makes Kurt’s fingers tighten in Blaine’s hair, Blaine is already somewhere else, sucking a sweet spot where his jaw meets the start of his throat.
“So how are we doing this?”
It’s spoken hot on Kurt’s neck and he’s not quite sure how to answer it.
“Let’s pretend,” he says, trying not to sound like he’s lost his mind but maybe he has, because he’s already kind of asked Blaine to do this whole role-playing thing. Only now it matters because they’re going to have sex and that’s something else entirely. A half-formed notion of Blaine would look totally hot in a sailor uniform is very different from pretend this is a one night stand while you’re on shore leave and let’s go wild.
Kurt can’t even say let’s go wild without laughing.
But Blaine is too good for him, because he waits Kurt out, moving away a little. “Kurt. Just because you like making the plans doesn’t mean you have to make yourself do something you don’t want.”
“No,” Kurt says, definitively. “I know what I want. What if we only had one night together? Tomorrow you’ll be long gone. No last names, no way of contacting me again, just you and me tonight. And that’s all. Tell me, Blaine.”
“I wouldn’t want one night only,” Blaine says, kind of brokenly like he’s forcing the words out. “Kurt—”
“But we haven’t even,” Kurt pauses, fumbling for the right words. If this were a script, in it, he’d most definitely say we’ve never fucked but he doesn’t here. “We haven’t even had sex yet. Prove it. Make me want more.”
Blaine drops to his knees without warning, yanking Kurt’s belt away and getting Kurt’s jeans open, not bothering to deal with the underwear yet, his mouth wet through the cloth as he tongues him. Less than a minute ago Kurt had been losing steam. Now he’s so ridiculously hard and he tries to pull Blaine’s head back to look at his face but Blaine refuses to budge. His hand lands squarely on Kurt’s ass, fingers digging in through the jeans to make the burn of the smack last a little longer.
He thinks he hears Blaine mumble something and he says, ignoring how high-pitched he sounds, “What were you saying?”
Blaine looks up, mouth almost red as he licks his lips. “You are so fucking gorgeous, so how about you fuck me, gorgeous?”
“I’m not going to fuck you,” Kurt says and he almost grabs himself as he says that but Blaine’s too close and if he touches his dick, Blaine’s mouth will inevitably follow and it’ll be over too soon. “Not yet at least.”
“I am going to suck you off.” Kurt’s blushing and he’s fumbling and getting nowhere near sexy but he almost doesn’t care. “I saw you staring at my mouth. You want me to.”
“Kurt, I,” Blaine cuts himself off. His hands have moved to the front of Kurt’s jeans, holding the bunched material like he’s ready to yank them down Kurt’s legs. “You know how I am about your mouth. Always.”
“We just met,” Kurt reminds Blaine. They would so be fired by this point for not making this believable. “How would you know?”
Blaine huffs a laugh. “Maybe I’ve been following you. Maybe I’ve always been watching you.”
“Veering into stalker mode there, Blaine.”
“Is that your bedroom?” Blaine asks, changing tactics. It’s hard not to miss the hurt in his voice about changing the pronoun.
“No. It’s ours.” Kurt pulls Blaine to his feet, kissing him hard. “For tonight,” he amends, badly slipping into a character he knows he’s going to drop at any moment.
“One night only.” Blaine muses over the prospect. He draws Kurt’s top lip in his mouth, saying against his lips, “So show me what you got.”
“Do I have the right to strip you, sailor?”
“Aye, aye,” he says, winking as he pushes Kurt towards the bed.
He lets Blaine kick his shoes off first before he yanks the shirt off, pushing him back onto the bed. Blaine leans up on his elbows, watching Kurt peel off his own clothes. He does it slow, like they did never for their real first time together, having to rush every experience whenever they got free time, always worried that at any moment the mood would be spoiled because they were still in high school. Having someone walk in on them is pretty much Kurt’s nightmare.
“Like what you see?”
Kurt should feel stupid asking that, being together has been the ultimate ego boost. Blaine got an erection the first time Kurt wore a particularly tight short-sleeved shirt, but the way Blaine’s looking at him, his eyes so dark, it seems an appropriate question to ask.
“You’re incredible,” Blaine breathes, his hand out like he’s going to jerk Kurt off, ignoring Kurt’s orders.
“I could say the same for you,” Kurt tells him as he kneels, pulling Blaine’s trousers and boxer-briefs down. He barely licks the head of Blaine’s dick and Blaine’s fingers are already in his hair, a deep moan as Kurt tastes the pre-come.
He could talk but it’s more interesting to see what noises he can get from Blaine, how shamelessly he can use every bit of information he’s stored up over the course of their relationship to be absolutely wicked. He’s flattening his tongue when he’s licking up the underside of his cock. Then he’s using his hands too, tight at the base while he’s doing his very best to get Blaine incoherent, mouth slipping past his balls.
Kurt looks up and says as if Blaine doesn’t already know, “There’s lube in the drawer. Can you get it?”
Blaine’s fumbling for it, he can barely reach it the way he’s positioned on the bed but he manages fine and Kurt strokes him the way Blaine likes it best as a thank you. He holds his hand out and watches Blaine slide the lube over his fingers, knowing that they’ve completely bypassed the strangers aspect of this and it’s better this way.
“Do one thing for me, Blaine,” he says, as he pushes a finger inside, “don’t come.”
“Kurt,” Blaine cries out, pulling Kurt’s hair, and that doesn’t do anything for Kurt but he lets Blaine hold on as fucks himself on Kurt’s finger while Kurt adds a second.
“Don’t come yet,” Kurt tells him as he’s fingering Blaine, mouth sliding along the length of his dick, tracing his tongue over the veins.
“Please,” Blaine says, “I’m so close.”
“Okay, it’ll be okay,” Kurt says, quickly pulling out and grabbing wildly for a condom, putting it on with a bit more fumbling than normal, grabbing the lube. “Ready?”
Blaine almost shoves Kurt’s hips down when his cock is pressing against Blaine. ‘Fuck yes.”
“Don’t come yet,” he says, fucking into Blaine, pulling one of Blaine’s legs over his shoulders, wondering if he could just angle Blaine right to get him to totally lose it so he can’t obey Kurt’s command. He could but what’s the fun in that?
“Wait, wait for it,” he says as he’s about to come, panting because he’s almost out of words, almost out of everything and he’s coming and Blaine is taking it, holding himself back as Kurt slides out of him. Blaine is still hard, still waiting.
Kurt has the most amazing boyfriend ever.
He helps Blaine flatten his legs against the mattress, cock flushing darkly against his stomach.
“Now you can let go,” he promises, and he takes Blaine slowly, opening his throat muscles once Blaine’s deep enough and he swallows the bitter tang down and does his very best not to choke.
The word Blaine manages while coming is a hybrid of fuck and god and Kurt. If there’s anything to remember after that, it’s the feel of Blaine’s chest against Kurt’s cheek before he drifts off to sleep.
“Wake up, I have the most fantastic day planned!”
Kurt stares very hard at his pillow. He wishes to telekinetically send it soaring against his locked bedroom door. It fails so he goes to the next best option.
“Go away, Rachel,” he says, voice hoarse, thank you very much, Blaine. It’ll take quite a bit of tea to soothe his throat and he hates drinking tea in the morning.
“Kurt,” Rachel says and he can hear her planting her hands on her hips. Oh dear god, she’s wearing a skirt that rustles. “You promised an outing of my choice today and I’ve finally figured out what I want to do that we haven’t done before.”
“Please tell Rachel a threesome would damage our friendship,” Blaine mumbles drowsily beneath the covers.
“What was that?”
“You have a perverted mind,” Kurt says but there’s not much oomph to the threat when he’s already smiling.
Kurt stumbles out of bed, remembering to grab the robe hanging nearby. Flashing Rachel is low on his list of college—no, life—experiences for good reason, one of them being that he might suffer erectile dysfunction for the rest of his life and he’d never forgive himself. Neither will Blaine for that matter.
Opening the door a crack, mindful that he’s not really hiding how thoroughly he got laid, he says, “What’s the plan, Rachel?”
“Touring the ships docked for Fleet Week!”
“I’m not really interested in the Navy.”
“Really? I thought you knew all the songs from On the Town,” she says trying to peer around Kurt. “Is that a sailor suit on the floor?”
“Rachel,” Kurt warns.
“Oh my god,” she says breathlessly. “You were role-playing yesterday.”
“Roommate rule number one,” Kurt says between clenched teeth. “What goes on in our bedrooms stays private.”
“Blaine will just tell me later.” Rachel smiles sweetly before turning on her heel. “Tell Blaine to take care of that sailor suit. I have a lovely sailor dress should we ever need to wear matching costumes while busking.”
“Please tell me you’re not officially starting up an act with Rachel,” Kurt begs when he closes the door shut and climbs back into bed.
“I’m not officially starting anything,” Blaine says, a little guiltily as he nuzzles against Kurt’s chest.
“I worry about us sometimes.”
“You do?” Blaine’s messy bedhead is unfairly adorable, Kurt’s pretty sure he stops breathing for a second.
“Us and Rachel. We’re like an incredibly camp Three’s Company. Only with extreme codependency.”
“Not true. We’re going to be apart for a whole week and a half when you go back to Ohio on Wednesday.”
“Ugh, I don’t want to think about packing,” Kurt says although he’s already planned a few outfits and he’s not going to miss out on any sales when he’s back in Lima simply because he’s spending quality family time, so he’ll need some luggage space. “Listen, I’m all yours tonight.”
“You were all mine last night.”
Kurt climbs on top of Blaine, kissing him soundly. Real love, he decides, is ignoring morning breath. “Think of something really fun to do tonight.”
“Rachel will be home tonight.”
“Something we’ll have to do quietly.”
Blaine licks his lips, considering. “I have a few ideas.”
“Excellent,” Kurt says. He leaves the bed before he gets the bright idea to waste his day lazing about in Blaine’s arms. It’s Blaine’s turn to come up with the crafty plans.
Opening the door to the living room slash dining area, he says to Rachel, “Now, make sure to take pictures only from my good side. Do you mind putting on the tea kettle? I need to take a shower.”
“You might need to cover up those hickeys, too.”
Kurt almost turns around to yell at Blaine but he knows he’ll melt because Blaine is being unbearably adorable this morning so he shrugs and says, “Why would I ever dream of covering up Blaine’s hard work?”
Sequel: Karaoke Curiosities