Summary: Summertime confessions, boys in love, and rimming
Notes: A birthday present for stut-ter, beta by Mrs-Tweezers~*~
“You should drink more often.” Blaine hums. His face is sticky with humidity where he’s nestled it into the cup of Kurt’s neck. Kurt hums back as well, unfurls his fingers over Blaine’s knee where his skin is exposed.
“You wear the most ridiculously small shorts, you know?”
He smiles into the lazy press of Kurt’s words, the slow slide of Kurt’s thumb just inside his knee. It’s not a complaint.
“*That* is why I like you like this.”
“You don’t like me other times?” Kurt’s voice smiles; his thumb wanders a bit more.
“I love you always.” Their skin sticks a little when he pulls away from the heat of Kurt’s body, but the friction of their lips when they meet is the just right delicious it always is.
“Come on guys, break it up!” Finn cries out. They pull apart, Kurt stifling a giggle where he ducks his red face behind Blaine’s naked shoulder.
“Want to swim?” Blaine offers; the water looks cold and his body glows from the heat and Kurt so close.
“Yeah.” Kurt’s face is still flush against his shoulder, the humidity of his words and breath still manage to prickle Blaine’s skin shivery-right.
“Tell me something you’ve always wanted.” He watches Kurt on the chaise, the way sunlight strips across his feet, the sharp edges of sunglasses that reshape the beautiful always frame of his face.
“A Tony.” Is the instant reply.
“No,” Blaine jiggles their hands, clasped fingers sweating and tight wound, “Something I don’t know.”
Kurt is adorably drunk; not too drunk but enough that he’s all lazy muscles and slim limbs. His head rolls to look at Blaine, cheeks rosed from sunlight. He’s biting the corner of his lower lip but smiling still.
“Come here,” It takes two tries for Kurt to prop himself up and lean toward Blaine, but when he does, he manages to tilt enough to whisper in his ear, “I want you to lick me.”
Blaine pulls back, puzzled but turned on in an automatic way that’s second nature; the proximity of Kurt is enough to make him constantly aware, much less Kurt who is adorably buzzes and in a bathing suit, skin hot and soft.
“I do that all the time though.”
“No,” Kurt looks away and clears his throat delicately, “I meant-” His eyebrows waggle as if to convey the secret meaning of his words. Damn, he knew that last wine cooler was a mistake, Blaine chides himself. He feels sun stupid and lost.
Kurt just waits a beat, smiles wider and slides to sit up. “You’ll figure it out. Want some water?” His hand ghosts over Blaine’s cheek before he turns to the deck where the coolers are.
It’s dark out, still sticky and humid, the sort of heavy, hushed air that promises storms later in the night. The heat will dissipate with the rain, but that’s little comfort now, when he’s still too warm, his clothes damp against his slightly burned skin. He’s sobered a bit, and so has Kurt, but they are still skirting the fine edge of tipsy. It’s just fun, one of their last moments with friendships that will scatter soon, prisms of light beaming across the country.
“Excuse me, I am far too wilted.” Kurt untangles himself where he’d been situated between Blaine’s legs. “Time for a costume change.” He runs his finger up Blaine’s thigh as he stands, surreptitious but definite and intentional.
Blaine doesn’t even care how obvious he is when he stands a few minutes later to follow. Because somewhere between lounging in the shade and migrating toward grilled food and good friends, he’d figured out what Kurt had been talking about.
“Hey,” Blaine whispers, closes the door with his back.
“Hey.” Kurt does the eyebrow raise thing that kind of turns him to jelly. His shirt is hanging limp from his fingers.
“You called?” Blaine does his own eyebrow thing, the one he thinks must be faintly ridiculous given what they look like, but Kurt always gets this fond look when he does it, a look like love when it is at its most gentle.
Blaine does it as often as he can.
“Did I?” Kurt does love to tease; turns his back to bend and retrieve a clean shirt from his overnight bag. He hardly moves when Blaine slides his hands around his hips and pushes his mouth up the line of his back, hard lips and sucking kisses.
“*Your freckles*,” Blaine closes his eyes against the spin, the dizzy rush of this something bright hot when he noses the slope of Kurt’s newly freckled shoulders.
“Careful,” Kurt’s shoulder twitches under his mouth, “not to say the wrong thing.” His voice teases but Blaine hears clear the insecurity there. Tries not to smile because *oh*, this boy and the things that make him beautiful, the way those things make him shy away and curl in.
“Can I just say then,” He whispers into Kurt’s ear, “That you devastate me like this.”
“You’ll see.” He promises. Kurt’s body is tight and trembling under his sliding hands, cupping and scraping where Kurt likes it best — his hip bones and the line from belly to sternum, and then barely teasing where he wants it most, soft peaked nipples and along his collarbone. Blaine presses his needing body as close as he can, mouth heavy on the knob just at the top of Kurt’s spine and dick so hard against the curve of Kurt’s ass.
“So what’s on the agenda then?” Kurt’s arms hang loose over his shoulder, legs easy open and curling around Blaine. They’re still mostly dressed but everything between them is fine and fine hot and live wired.
“Didn’t you already tell me?” Blaine bites Kurt’s ear.
“Hng?” It does something to Kurt when Blaine does this, works these secret places between their bodies.
Blaine pulls away. “Roll over please.”
Kurt’s eyes are bedroom heavy, chest moving in staccato, and then he does, trusting.
“I’m still not clear-”
“You said you wanted me to lick you.” Blaine runs his hands down Kurt’s beautiful back, slows the skittish shying of his body at the words.
“I didn’t think- I mean, now?” Kurt’s face is buried where it’s propped on his folded arms, spoken into the soft comforter of a strange bed.
“Hmmm.” Blaine’s fingers are already working his shorts down, one hand slipping under his pelvis to tilt it up and undo the button at the front. Kurt squirms a bit, helping but jolting a little with nerves. “It’s okay,” Blaine kisses his sacrum, “I’m here. It’s okay.”
“I know.” Quietly, Kurt breathes out his nerves, the words permission.
He starts slow, unsure and more nervous maybe than Kurt. Blaine has no idea what he’s doing, but he wants this to gift to Kurt; wants to wreck Kurt with it.
Rimming has always been this *thing* — this sort of amorphous maybe-one-day sort of act — one he’d never anticipated doing until much, much later.
Not that he is at all opposed. He’s like…the opposite of opposed. He’s so not opposed that his whole body is already throbbing close and he’s not done more than kiss down the round of one buttock, skimming his tongue along the crease just below toward the space between Kurt’s legs.
“Open.” He asks in whisper, nudging Kurt’s thighs apart and encouraging Kurt to settle his knees under his body a bit. Blaine bites his lip, uses his thumbs to spread Kurt’s cheeks. Kurt whimpers and shifts. “Shhh,” Blaine kisses him again, just at the top of his crack. “You’re so beautiful Kurt. You make me want you so much.”
“Huh,” Kurt grunts out softly when Blaine licks him, tongue tentative, hot wet from his perineum to where he’d just kissed moments before.
“Good *huh* or bad?” Blaine mumbles against the spit wet skin. Kurt’s breathing ratchets with each pass of his tongue.
“G-good. ” He whimpers softly and so Blaine sucks harder where his lips had sealed around his rim.
Blaine pulls back, runs his thumb around where Kurt’s asshold clenches, light brown starburst shiny from his mouth. Experimentally he puts pressure against it and moans when Kurt shudders hard enough to dislodge his grip.
“You really like this don’t you?” Blaine bites down Kurt’s ass before dipping back in, circling and circling his hole with increasing intensity before pressing and pushing and working the tip in. Kurt heaves and cries out above him; thing of wonder, is Kurt like this, heavy leaned into pleasure. A different boy that only he knows, that no one else will ever know like this, easy with sex in Blaine’s hands and against his mouth, scorching inside where only Blaine is trusted to be. “Can you come like this?”
“Please don’t-” Kurt begs in whispers, circles his hips minutely against Blaine’s mouth, “Don’t…don stop, please Blaine.”
“No,” Blaine’s tongue slips in then and he doesn’t speak anymore, just works and fucks his tongue in. Each of Kurt’s cries incites a visceral reaction in Blaine’s body. He’s seconds from coming, holding and holding himself back, the edge of orgasm trembling through his erratic jolting muscles and helpless teenage body.
“Oh, oh *fuck*-” Kurt’s spine arches suddenly, then bows when he pushes himself back onto Blaine’s tongue, riding it through and through and it’s with wonder that Blaine keeps himself just there, Kurt ‘s muscles fluttering hard around his tongue and he comes and comes and Blaine does too, grunting through the white washing his vision.
Kurt sways on hands and knees, back concave lax, the perfect hollow for Blaine to lay his forehead. They breathe together like they’re windspent, still rocking on the after edges of orgasm and the tight tight vicegrip of love.
The don’t fall to rest so much as heap, tangled boy limbs still coltish and awkward. They’re growing into men; their bodies and hearts and the fired gold heat of need and intimacy.
“All such things should start with few words.” Kurt runs sleepy fingers along Blaine’s bicep.
“Sounds wise.” Blaine tries to wake himself a little. “Who said that?”
Kurt laughs, “I did.”
“Oh?” Curious now, Blaine props his chin on Kurt’s chest. “Like ‘lick me’?”
Kurt’s eyes, that dream blue of post sex, roll and then smile, “Yeah that too. And,” A kiss on the nose, “I love you.”