Kurt Hummel wasn't going to do this.

He was a cognitive creature, not someone ruled by their physical desires, and he wasn't going to let the fact that he and his ex-boyfriend were going to be in the same vicinity at a wedding overwhelm him into doing something that he wasn't ready for, nor was he sure that Blaine deserved.

Yet here they are. Blaine is practically purring beneath him, eyes dark, pupils lust-blown. It simultaneously frightens and intrigues Kurt that he just couldn't stop himself from shoving Blaine down on his back seat and lying on top of him so that the curves of their bodies pressed together. It was surprisingly easy to get into this position: Blaine just seemed to collapse down onto the seat, flat on his back, shirt riding up his belly, exposing slivers of honey-golden skin that Kurt longed to nip and suck.

There was no thinking for the first minute or ten. Just need, hot and raw. Kurt remembers desperate hands clawing at each other, clothing suddenly seeming repressive and just needed to be off. He wanted Blaine and he wanted as much of him that he could get. Time, place, responsibility suddenly had no relevance in his life.

At one point, needing to slow it down, to take a moment to breathe, Kurt had placed both is hands on Blaine's chest and held him down while Kurt surveyed him from above. He could feel Blaine's heart beat thump-thumping underneath his left palm, feel the warmth of his skin bleeding through his dress shirt and the heady dazzles of want in his golden eyes.

And taking all of that in, Kurt had never felt such hunger before. He's felt desire, certainly, and lust too but he had never felt this overpowering yearn twisting through his gut, spreading through his veins, overcoming all other thoughts. He had surged back down to burying his face in the juncture where Blaine's neck meets his shoulder and inhaled desperately like the sweet scent embedded in Blaine's skin was oxygen. Blaine had gripped his back, fingers scratching at his skin, but despite the slight pricks of pain it felt right. Like Blaine was afraid to let him go and just needed him closer.

And even now as he presses his lips to Blaine's mouth and feels Blaine's warm thigh between his own legs, this urge, need, craving for Blaine is roaring in his chest.

You're mine, mine, mine.

He doesn't ask for permission, just automatically knows that it would be given – Blaine is splayed beneath him, rubbing him through his slacks for God's sake – as he fumbles with the buckle on Blaine's belt, loosening his pants just enough to stuff his hand down them to stroke Blaine through his underwear. He's hot down there. Hot and hard and he thrusts upward to meet Kurt's hand as Kurt cups him, enjoying the warm weight in his palm. Blaine clenches his thighs around his legs, throwing his head back against the seat and crying out needily. The noises spilling from Blaine go straight to Kurt's dick.

It doesn't escape his notice that Blaine winces when he asks – well, demands really, it didn't come out sounding like a question - "this doesn't mean that we're back together, right?"

Blaine recovers his composure quickly but Kurt still feels like a monster afterwards, especially when Blaine swallows before assuring him that he understands. He has to protect himself. Kurt knows that at some stage when heat isn't pooling low in his belly and Blaine isn't writhing and panting beneath him he's going to have to seriously process this and he needs to make sure that Blaine knows where he stands.

He can't hurt Blaine. Kurt knows he's vulnerable and lives in eternal hope so it is Kurt's responsibility to make sure that Blaine isn't getting too far ahead of himself, isn't digging himself in too deep only to be crushed if Kurt realises that he can't reciprocate his feelings.

Blaine assures him that he understands, that they're just helping each other out and the smooth breathiness in his voice is like the Siren's Song and their lips meet again. The heat and sweat of two eager young men is cloying in the car, steaming up the windows, but it just makes everything feel that much more personal and intense.

The sharp knock in the window breaks their little cocoon of intimacy and it feels like a violation of something sacred. He knows he's gaping like an idiot as he gazes at Mercedes but he can't quite get his brain to function properly, not when Blaine is still warm and desperate beneath him.

He reluctantly relinquishes his - what, his ex-boyfriend, lover, best friend, all three? – and attempts to make himself at least semi-decent. The cold air, such a sharp contrast to the dewy warmth he and Blaine had created in the Prius, is like a slap in the face but it somewhat brings him back to his senses.

Blaine's eyes go deliciously wide as he frolics out of the car, heedless of his open trousers (or perhaps too lust-giddy to care) and Kurt feels a sudden rush of loss and a sense that there is far too much space beneath him, space where Blaine should be.

Kurt stumbles out of the car, conscious of his swollen lips and overall dishevelled appearance.

"Everyone hooks up at weddings" he says dismissively, thankful that his voice has lost its breathy, sensual quality and he's back to sounding like himself. It's the best he can manage because all that's running through his mind is Blaine, Blaine, Blaine and how he wants to be pressed up against him again in their own private little bubble where everything is sexy and familiar, yet new because he's different and Blaine's different, yet they still fit perfectly together.

He feels a surge of affection as Blaine shyly tucks his shirt back into his dress slacks. I love him, his heart sings. And it's more than just a physical thing. He feels like there is an invisible string connecting him and Blaine together and no matter how far they drift they will be intangibly connected. Walking into the church he thinks that maybe he has always known this, ever since the first courage text was sent.

It just took his brain a little longer to catch up with his heart.