This is some ridiculous fluff and fluffy sex to detract from the horrific angst I wrote last week.

I was thinking about how most "first time" klaine fics go, and I didn't want to do that. Because we know that Blaine is cool with talking about sex and ecnouraging sex ed and everything, but I think that when it comes down to it he's actually just as terrified as Kurt when it comes to actually HAVING sex. And these two losing their virginity was always going to be a big deal, but I don't think it should matter whose topping or bottoming, it's still their first time. And they'd still have their own fears.

Plus I'm so in love with writing Blaine, I can't even help it.

If you've never read anything I've written before, expect long and drawn out sentences and a ridiculous amount of comma abuse. Also typos.

This fic was vaguely inspired by "Glitter in the Air" by Pink, which is ridiculously cheesy but whatever. And the title was inspired by that bit in Queer as Folk, where Justin talks about wanting something so badly it hurts.

:)

"Yearning is when you want something really badly. Like, so bad it hurts"

It takes Blaine nearly the entire summer to finally figure out what he's doing.

It's sticky and Blaine can feel his shirt clinging to his back, and he shifts uncomfortably in the front seat of Kurt's car because only Kurt Hummel would drive around on leather seats in the summer. The air-con is blasting, and the windows are as far down as they'll reach but Blaine can still feel a trickle of sweat dripping between his shoulder blades.

Blaine loves the summer. He lives for ice creams and shorts, for parks and barbeques and the Warblers annual pool parties, and every day inside in the summer is a day wasted in Blaine's eyes.

Kurt prefers the cool interior of shopping malls, prefers sitting inside on a comfortable chair with a new copy of Vogue and a glass of iced coffee.

But when they're together it's like the seasons don't matter, and Blaine looks over to see the boy he loves throw back his head and laugh. He's screaming along to the stupid lyrics of a stupid song on the radio, and his hair is pushed back and his cheeks flushed, and Blaine has never seen him look more beautiful.

And suddenly, in that hot car with Kurt singing and laughing and the two of them sweating in the sun, Blaine feels a jolt of something behind his heart, and he can't put his finger on it but it's enough to send butterflies up from his chest to his throat until he can't speak.

He remembers how the first time he made Kurt come, it was in the back of this very car and it was too fast and Blaine hadn't even realised how caught up they were until Kurt jerked and stilled with a whimper on his lap. How Blaine had suddenly loved him even more, and how that frightened him enough to pull away slightly, because Blaine knew right then that he wanted this. He wanted every inch of Kurt, and forever, but the thought of instigating anything past that exact moment terrified him.

"I just don't think I'm ready," he said, hiding his burning face in Kurt's collar until Kurt's fingers plucked at his chin to draw their faces closer.

"That's okay, we can wait until you are," he said, stroking a finger down the side of Blaine's face, "I'll wait for you."

It happens again a few days later, and Kurt's making plans to redecorate which of course means fabric swatches and paint palettes and boards covered with images and feathers, and there's glitter everywhere when Blaine arrives. He knows Kurt will shoot down any ideas with a disparaging glance, but Kurt prefers to have somebody to talk to when he's designing, likes to bounce ideas off a source and Blaine knows from experience that he's better at it than Finn.

But it's tiring and stuffy in Kurt's room. Blaine flops down onto the plastic covered mattress with a yawn and can only manage to laugh when Kurt paints a stripe of glitter down the bridge of his nose, but he tugs Kurt's body on top of his anyway and bites at his lips until they're both laughing and kissing and gasping for breath, bodies sliding on the plastic.

Blaine can feel Kurt holding back, can see how measured his touches are and how he presses his hands flat to Blaine's back but doesn't dare to move them.

But he doesn't know what to do, and Blaine wants so much to give himself to Kurt entirely, to lay his life and body flat and open like a book, and let Kurt own him entirely. But he just doesn't know how, and Kurt is willing and beautiful and Blaine just wishes he could be so open and trusting, wishes he knew how to move past his own hesitancy.

He brushes his hands up to Kurt's hips, clasping him tighter to his body but Kurt kisses him one last time, once on the tip of the nose until there's glitter staining his lips, and moves off him.

Blaine spins through the rest of the summer like he's living in a dream world, and everything is a blur of dizzying heat and kisses, but Kurt remains in his usual vibrant clarity, standing out from the world around him like he was never supposed to be there.

There are two weeks left, and all that Blaine knows is that Kurt means more to him than anyone he's ever met before.

Kurt is laughing with Rachel and Santana as Blaine ducks underwater to avoid Puck and his ridiculous urges to half-drown the rest of the boys. Blaine thinks he's already managed to swallow half of the pool, and Kurt is less than sympathetic from his seat at the side.

Blaine hauls himself out of the water and drops onto the towel beside Kurt, who wrinkles his nose at the chlorine and the wet patch seeping into the fabric.

"Really, Blaine?"

Blaine mutters something, letting an arm fall over his face to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight and there's something digging into the underside of his ribs.

It's the light silver chain that Blaine has seen pressed against Kurt's skin, under his shirts. Hanging from it is a tiny ring, too small to even fit Blaine's littlest finger and his hands were never built for delicacy and artistry. Blaine's hands were clumsy and too large, and felt at home when clutched around a coffee cup or a guitar.

Kurt had hands made for touching and painting, with perfect nails and fingers that could wear tiny rings with amber stones that caught the sunlight.

"It was my mother's," Kurt was saying, "I don't usually take it off, but I didn't want the water to ruin it, or…"

"Do you want me to look after it?"

"Sure," Kurt touched his lips to Blaine's cheekbone, and then he was gone. Blaine let the chain fall against his own chest as he hung it around his neck, and let himself fall asleep in the sun to the sound of laughter and water.

When Blaine woke it was to the feel of something wet and warm burrowing into his side and his eyes cracked open to see dusk settling over the garden. The sky was a blushed purple and he could hear hushed voiced spread over the grass around them.

Blaine let his fingers reach out until they brushed wet skin and he pulled Kurt closer. He could feel the wet cotton of the shirt Kurt has just pulled on, could feel where it clung to his skin.

"You swam while I was asleep?"

Kurt hummed into his side in agreement, and Blaine made a disgruntled noise from the back of his throat.

"That's not fair, you know."

Kurt was damp with pool water, and rested his head on Blaine's chest with his fingers brushing the ring that lay between his collarbones.

"Do you want it back?" Blaine mumbled into Kurt's wet hair. He felt him shake his head and his palm come to rest flat over the necklace.

"Keep it."

Blaine closed his arms around him, feeling his heart thud against the side of Kurt's face, and every inch of his skin was tingling where their bodies met. His eyes were closing and the air was warm around him, and Kurt was humming sleepily into Blaine's side.

"Sometimes I think I love you too much."

He didn't mean to say it.

But Kurt just tightened his arms around Blaine and said nothing, and then Blaine just knew.

They're in a bookshop working their way through the new school list when Blaine's mouth decides to take action.

"My parents are away this weekend," he hears himself say over his pounding heart. This weekend, the last weekend before school starts and Blaine has the house to himself.

"Okay," Kurt says absently, running his thumb along the spines of the books with a touch so soft it hurts to watch, and Blaine wishes desperately that it was him.

"I thought you might want to come over. And…you know. Stay."

"Of course," Kurt's pulling a book from the shelf and running a blue line through something on his list.

Blaine wants to scream in frustration. It wouldn't be the first time Kurt had stayed, not even the first time they'd shared a bed. Blaine could remember drifting off on Kurt's couch during a movie night or curled together on his bed as they studied for too long, far too many times. Sometimes Carole would wake them and sigh, and Burt would prop the door open and give Blaine that look, but since that night in Kurt's car there had been nothing.

Because when Blaine told Kurt back in February that he didn't know what he was doing he was telling the truth, and even though he could talk about sex and think about it and learn about it, the idea of actually doing it still petrified him.

Even with Kurt.

Even with the boy he loved so much it made his insides ache.

But when Blaine was home alone, waving his parents off and standing barefoot in his porch he realised.

Their relationship was perfect. Kurt was perfect. Nothing would ever change that, and Kurt had been so good at keeping their relationship moving forwards without rushing Blaine into anything. He had been so honest and so wonderful.

It's okay to love someone, Blaine.

There had never been any question or doubt in Blaine's mind that he loved Kurt. He had never once looked back on the feeling that blossomed in his chest as he watched Kurt talk about his New York trip, never once regret the three words that fell as easily from his lips as if he'd been saying them for years.

But recently the days with Kurt had seemed more and more to be spelling forever, and Blaine knew that an entire lifetime wouldn't be enough with Kurt, but it would have to do.

Maybe that was it, the one thing that wrapped itself around his heart. Sex seemed to finalise it somehow. This was the last barrier, the one voice left in his mind saying he was too young, or this was too fast, or what did he really know about love anyway?

Blaine clutched the doorframe with one hand as the afternoon breeze scattered leaves on his front lawn.

"I want to have sex with Kurt," he told himself. And to his surprise, Blaine found that it was true.

It was too hot inside Blaine's house, inside his head.

He opened every window, letting any last vestiges of summer wind blow through the house until every room was filled with sunshine and petals blown in from the garden. He found a bottle of lube at the bottom of his sock drawer and blushed while stuffing it deep into his back pocket.

Blaine dug ice cream from the freezer, and stuck a spoonful into his mouth as he sat on the counter and stared at the clock.

The temperature seemed to rise a degree with every tick of the clock, and Blaine's heart had synchronised in time with the passing seconds, jolting hard when the doorbell rang at six minutes to four.

Kurt was nothing if not inordinately punctual.

"You taste like strawberries," he breathed against Blaine's lips, letting his tongue flick to the edges of his mouth, tasting him.

Blaine wanted to clutch their bodies closer until Kurt was whimpering and gasping words that sounded like his name, wanted to press him against the wooden door and rock their bodies together until neither could breathe.

But Kurt was pulling away and dropping his bag at the foot of the stairs, swinging himself onto one of the high stools beside the breakfast bar and throwing one end of a scarf over his shoulder, and he was so much more dignified and beautiful than Blaine could ever let himself be. He pushed the door closed and tried not to stare down at his toes in their oddly pattern socks, greens and oranges and purples against Kurt's shades of pale grey layers that fell together perfectly, until he stretched out one hand to draw Blaine nearer.

"Hey…come here."

And Blaine went willingly, of course, because he wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

Kurt hooked his fingers into Blaine's belt loops and pulled him closer, "What did you want to do today?"

Blaine felt his breath hitch, and Kurt was blinking at him with those wide eyes and how do you tell the boy you love that you unexpectedly discovered that you want to pin him to the nearest flat surface and touch him until he screams your name?

"Nothing…really," he managed, torn between closing the gap between them, or tearing himself away from Kurt's tempting fingers.

"Are you hungry?" He said quickly, turning away to pull open a cupboard.

"I could eat."

Blaine felt a muscle in his leg tremble, and he was gripping the handle tight enough to hurt, because now the thought of sex was in Blaine's head and they were alone and together, he was barely managing to hold back when all he wanted to do was push Kurt over the counter and bite a trail down his spine.

When he finally turned, Kurt had moved to the fridge and the world seemed to tilt in slow motion as he bent forwards to open the door and look inside. A strip of pale skin glowed where his shirt rode up and a shiver ran through Blaine, and before he knew what he was doing he was behind Kurt, his hands pressed against his denim-clad hips and leaning forwards to touch his open mouth to the base of Kurt's back.

He felt Kurt tremble at his touch, heard him breathe a soft sigh of "Blaine," before straightening slowly until their bodies were slotted together.

Blaine let his fingers wander around Kurt's front, tripping over belt loops and shirt buttons until they brushed skin and Kurt was still and silent under his hands. His head rolled backwards to fall onto Blaine's shoulder.

"Oh. So this is what you wanted to do tonight."

Blaine hid his smile into the back of Kurt's neck.

"I was thinking today –"

"Dangerous," Kurt breathed. Blaine bit gently at his shoulder.

"Hush, you. Anyway, I was thinking about how much I loved you and how…I shouldn't be scared of that. And how you've been so patient and wonderful and…well…"

Kurt turned to face him, leaning his head back to look Blaine right in the eyes.

"Blaine we don't have to do this as some sort of debt to me, for waiting for you. I love you and I'll wait for you forever if you want me to."

Blaine cupped his hand around Kurt's chin, pulling their faces close, "Kurt. All I know is that I love you. And I want you. Always."

He let one hand slide between them to press at Kurt's back, pulling their hips flush together and Kurt's mouth fell open, a rose tint colouring his cheeks. His eyes darkened slightly.

"I always want you," he whispered, and pulled Blaine's head forward to catch his lips. Blaine learnt at once in that moment how much Kurt had been holding back on him. His lips were faster and wetter than they ever had been, were pressing and slipping between Blaine's, teeth catching at his lip before he pressed his tongue against it. He was thrusting and rocking and grinding their mouths until their teeth clashed and noses bumped, and it was hard and messy and if this was just a kiss them Blaine could hardly dare to imagine what anything else would feel like.

Until Kurt pulled away and patted his hand gently on Blaine's chest.

"Come on darling, let's eat ice-cream and watch a movie."

They were lying twined together like vines when the credits rolled, and Blaine wouldn't have been able to tell you what the move had been about even if you paid him. He could tell you about the spirals that Kurt's fingers traced up his side, about the soft press of toes into his calf, about the strawberry ice-cream Kurt had licked off his chin.

Blaine could tell you what it felt like to love somebody so much that even when their body is pressed tight against yours, they still feel too far away.

The sky outside was the kind of heavy that reflected the green of the trees and grass and threw them into a violent sharpness as the sun dipped towards the horizon, and Blaine had an idea.

He pulled the old blanket from the couch and with the melting ice-cream in one hand and Kurt's in his other, Blaine tugged them from the room and out into the garden.

"My mother used to bring me up here every night," he said, leading Kurt down the gravel path and through the old gap in the broken fence.

"When the bullying got really bad, so bad I couldn't sleep, I would come up here instead."

It's nothing really. Just a ten foot square that technically belongs to his parents, but was sectioned off from their garden years ago. Just a slight slope and some scarce grass with bluebells poking their heads through the green and by day the house casts the hill in its shadow, but when the sun sets it's like you can sit there and watch the town below you burn with sunlight.

It means nothing to anyone but Blaine, nothing but a place to hide and think and join stars until he fell asleep.

But Kurt tilts his head, his lips curving in an expression that is too sad to be called a smile, and Blaine feels like he's torn out his own heart and laid it bare for Kurt to examine, but he wants this. He wants to show Kurt every part of himself, every little inch and secret and hill of flowers and sunlight that stays hidden during the day.

Blaine spreads the blanket and Kurt falls onto it, tugging Blaine down with their still-joined hands until he lands in a heap and Kurt is laughing and wriggling under him. Blaine finds himself straddling the other boy, and while the sky is just turning pink above them he's spooning melted strawberries into Kurt's open mouth.

He misses, more than once.

Kurt giggles and scoffs and pokes out his tongue to catch the pink juice that seeps from his lips, and Blaine is kissing it from his cheeks and licking stripes of cream where they've dripped down Kurt's throat until skin and strawberries blend in Blaine's mouth and he doesn't know where one ends and the other begins, but the spoon has fallen into the grass and Kurt is flat on his back.

Blaine doesn't remember unbuttoning Kurt's shirt, but it falls open anyway and Blaine lets the point of his tongue trail down the centre of his chest. He wants to take his time, to learn what makes Kurt whimper and gasp, but Blaine can feel his ribs shifting beneath his mouth with every breath. He wants to count the soft ridges that shape the skin below him, wants to let his lips map every dip and curve of Kurt's body.

But Kurt had one hand in Blaine's hair tugging him upwards, and the other grasping his shoulders and trying to push him down and he doesn't seem to know what he wants, but his legs latch around Blaine's waist and he's rocking his hips upwards with desperate little whines.

Blaine pulled away long enough to tug his t-shirt over his head and drop it, let himself fall back down onto Kurt's body and their mouths crashed together as Kurt pushed them onto their sides. Blaine pressed a leg between Kurt's letting him rock hard against his thigh, and he was straining desperately against the denim of his jeans.

The blanket is rough below them, and Blaine can feel the setting sun warm on his back, every hint of a breeze trailing across the sheen of sweat that built on his skin.

Kurt's nails scraped hard and blunt down the skin of Blaine's back, and his hips jerked.

"Fuck, Blaine. Fuck me, please. Just…"

For once Blaine cursed the jeans Kurt insisted on wrapping his legs in, as he peeled them off and yanked them over his feet, but their eyes met and it was tense but Kurt's laugh was genuine, and his eyes were sparkling. He let his fingers brush across the red grooves where the seams had dug into Kurt's perfect skin, touched his lips to the side of his leg.

His own jeans were gone in a scrabble of fingers, and he fished the lube from his pocket while Kurt kissed up and down his throat and collarbone, bit his ear and tugged their bodies together. Kurt's hands were touching every inch of him, and he was grasping and whining and rocking with such fervour that Blaine couldn't breathe and he knew they had to stop before it was too late, but Kurt was so frantic and when Blaine pulled away he let out an anguished moan and tried to pull him back down.

Blaine let out a choked laugh, kissing Kurt on the tip of the nose, but his heart was racing.

He rolled Kurt slightly, until he was flat on his back and Blaine was above him.

"Are you sure," Kurt whispered, as though this was a point they could move back from.

"Are you?"

Kurt's hand found the base of Blaine's neck and his fingers curled gently into the hairs there as he brought their faces closer.

"Forever."

The lube was cold against Blaine's fingers, and he rubbed it between them before dipping it into Kurt's skin. Kurt's breath hitched slightly at every touch and he trembled when Blaine pressed his finger in and twisted. One leg curled around Blaine's waist while the other hitched up almost over his shoulder, and Blaine touched the head of his cock gently to Kurt's hole, meeting his eyes one last time.

"Do it."

Blaine moved himself forward with one swift motion, and Kurt stilled and gasped beneath him, one hand scrambling until their fingers links together and he clung on desperately. Blaine let himself fall forwards until their foreheads touched and his arms were flat on the blanket around Kurt's head, both hands linked tightly. Blaine didn't dare move because Kurt was breathing hard below him, eyes squeezed shut and all Blaine could feel was a burning tension, so hot and tight and wonderful that it was almost unbearable.

"How does it feel?" he panted, and Kurt let out a shaky breath.

"It hurts," he whimpered finally, and Blaine saw a tear slip from Kurt's lashes and he kissed it away. His lips pressed softly against Kurt's cheeks and eyelids and the bridge of his nose until his eyes opened again, and they were bright with tears but he held Blaine's gaze unfalteringly as he nodded.

The ring Blaine still wore around his neck rested gently against Kurt's chest as he drew back slightly, pushed back with a steady pace. Kurt was meeting him with every thrust, slow at first, but then his nails tightened into the skin between Blaine's fingers and they were moving together in a staccato rhythm. Kurt tightened his leg and pressed Blaine in deeper every time, holding him there for longer and raising his until their entire bodies were colliding over and over.

This is what it feels like, to love.

This.

"I love you, Blaine. Fuck, I love you so much."

Blaine feels like a burning match and a blaze of fire, and he can't look away from Kurt's eyes only centimetres from his own. He's scorching and freezing and Blaine wants to cry because everything feels just so much. Kurt is bucking beneath him with moans that Blaine feels brush across his face, and then his back arches enough to clash their chests together, and Kurt freezes in an arc for just a second with a sharp cry.

Blaine feels their bodies curve together, lets himself endure it for a handful of seconds longer, before he crashes and his arms give out and Blaine collapses onto Kurt with a groan.

Blaine doesn't want to move, but it's becoming too much and he pulls out of Kurt, who moans faintly and curls himself deep into Blaine's arms.

When they're face to face, Blaine can see and trace the dented circles in their chests where the ring pressed into their skin as they fell together.

"We missed the sunset," he murmured, one hand flat over where Kurt's heart is still thundering inside his body.

"We'll have plenty more," Kurt says.

When Blaine wakes he's alone and curled into an itchy blanket on a tiny hill. The sky is a cloudy violet over his head, the moon still hanging round and heavy but shafts of pink are bleeding through the edge of the world.

The spot beside him is cold, and Blaine pulls Kurt's side of the blanket up and over his naked skin, turning to face the moon.

There are no stars left in the sky that morning.

Something inside Blaine wants to cry but he hasn't let himself since he met Kurt, and Blaine wonders if he still knows how.

There are footsteps, and Blaine rolls over to see Kurt ducking through the hole in the fence. He's wearing his own jeans and one of Blaine's hoodies, and his hair is sticking up in every direction.

"I couldn't get back to sleep, so I went to get breakfast."

He's holding a paper bag and two cups of coffee, and Blaine can smell the Danish pastries from the tiny café down the street that opens every morning when the sun rises.

Kurt puts the food down and pulls the grey jumper off over his head, and while Blaine thought Kurt wearing his clothes was wonderful, Kurt wearing nothing at all was glorious. He holds a pastry up to Blaine's lips, his tongue flicking over his own as Blaine bites down and then Kurt is kissing him and Blaine doesn't care that neither of them have brushed their teeth and that crumbs and sugar are dusting his lips, because Kurt tastes like everything Blaine wants, forever.

"I thought you'd gone," he admits, rubbing a thumb across Kurt's cheekbone and touching their foreheads together.

Kurt smiled.

"Where would I go?"

As always, I love you all and I hope you enjoyed it.

Fluffy porn is always fun, right?

Let me know :)