DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy. Title is from "Pavlove" by Fall Out Boy.

Warnings for: barebacking. Y'know, the usual.

Tumblr is here (endofadream)

"So I've been thinking…"

"A dangerous endeavor indeed," Kurt interrupts solemnly, cackling and blocking Blaine's shot when he tries to hit his shoulder.

"Shut up," Blaine whines, defeated, shifting on the bed and drawing his legs up under his body. He places his hands on his thighs, and the look he gives Kurt is so earnest, so openly raw and honest, that Kurt sobers immediately, giving Blaine his undivided attention, all snarks set aside. "This is important, Kurt."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Kurt apologizes, briefly covering Blaine's hand with his own. "Go on."

Blaine sucks in a deep breath, looking away. Kurt watches as he smoothes over his cardigan—a nervous tick—and then as he runs a hand over his neck—another nervous tick, though this time Kurt can't help but openly stare at the play of Blaine's fingertips over his throat. Blaine is stalling, and immediately Kurt feels guilty at interrupting when Blaine had seemed so determined just a few minutes ago to tell him something.

Wordlessly Kurt reaches out again, takes Blaine's hand and this time doesn't let go. The look and smile he receives is grateful, and Blaine flips his hand, twines their fingers together. Another deep breath, then Blaine's eyes close as he begins: "Okay, so…I've been thinking, like I said, about…things."

"Things?" Kurt raises a brow.

Blaine draws his lower lip into his mouth, nods. "Things." Evasive.

"What sort of things?"

Blaine makes an involuntary noise, a whimper or a whine. He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, and slowly his face begins to bloom a faint red. His voice, when he speaks, is almost a whisper. "Sex things."

Oh. Both Kurt's cock and heart jump at that. Sex is still a fairly new thing for them, and Kurt's beginning to discover that insatiability that he's always heard about. It's wonderful and annoying, liberating and frustrating, all at once. "W-well." He swallows hard, gives Blaine's hand a squeeze, tries to come up with words, a sentence, that is both comforting and encouraging. "Sex things are…nice."

Talking about it, though. Talking about it makes Kurt nervous, makes him feel still like the naïve, innocent boy he'd been before Blaine. It's one thing to do when they're both equally as turned on and just as uninhibited, but it's entirely another creature to ask and discuss when they're both still clothed and level-headed and not turned half-blind with lust.

He looks up at Blaine, so hesitant and unsure how to proceed. Kurt sees the boy he's grown to know and love; he sees his best friend, his boyfriend, his everything. He sees the Blaine without the mask, without the held-high head and the soft, reassuring voice. Kurt sees all of those little insecurities, those doubts, that make Blaine Blaine, and he's saying before he's really cognizant of it, "You know you can tell me, B. You don't have to be nervous."

"I know." Blaine laughs quietly, rolls his eyes at himself. He lifts up their joined hands, presses a tender kiss to Kurt's knuckles. To Kurt, it feels like the damp skin in the ringed memory of Blaine's lips is burning with the most amazing fire. "I don't even know why I'm nervous. It's silly."

"I doubt it." Kurt scoots closer, offers Blaine a smile. "If it's about sex you know I'll like it." He blushes as he says this, but he knows that it's true. Weeks of experimenting have taught him that.

Blaine giggles, looks down at his lap. They lapse back into silence, and Kurt is patient. Blaine had been the confident one when Kurt had had all of his questions, and it's in a way refreshing to see the roles reversed. Though Kurt is by no means supremely confident, he does know Blaine well enough to know that whatever Blaine is going to say won't be silly or frivolous or stupid.

"I want to bareback."

Kurt's world screeches to a sudden jarring halt. He wonders for a second why he wasn't just pitched violently forward, and it's only after the words sink in, soak through Kurt's skin and into his brain like acid, that he realizes the world is still spinning and that Blaine is still sitting in front of him, waiting.

"Y-you," Kurt stammers, his throat suddenly dry. Blaine's eyes widen, glisten leaf-and-amber in the light of Kurt's room. Kurt shakes his head, clears quickly the cobwebs, and says, stronger, "You want me to…?"

"Fuck me bare?" Blaine sounds timid but still sure though his voice rockets up at the end in a question, and he raises his chin, nods, and offers a little smile. His skin is still red as he adds, "Yeah. I-I've been wanting this for awhile."

Kurt feels dizzy. Sex is messy—he can see pools of come on his and Blaine's chests, sees streaks of it across comforters—and that's why he's always chosen sex with a condom without any question or wandering thoughts to what it'd be like without. Without has never really even crossed his mind.

This is a big responsibility, a huge level of trust. They're both—obviously—clean, and Kurt trusts Blaine with his life, is sure that Blaine feels the same.

"Does that mean you want me to—to…" Kurt lets his sentence hang, suspended like the moon or a cloud. He sees it, sees heady images of his come trickling out of Blaine's ass, of his hands spreading Blaine's cheeks. He's only ever heard these words spoken between moans and grunts, declarations of sweat-sticky pleasure and love. Come inside me. But never have they held such meaning, such promise. Never have they been this tangible.

"It's up to you," Blaine says quickly, then groans and presses his palm to his face as he says, muffled, "Oh my god that sounded so awful." He bares embarrassed eyes, a half-cocked smile. "What I mean is…I'm okay with either. This isn't really about feeling…that inside me. Your come." He grimaces at his hesitancy, the way he says the words like a small child who's just heard his first dirty word would, and Kurt laughs, runs a hand through his hair and flushes so hot his skin prickles with sweat under his arms and across his back. "I just want to feel…to feel you. Without anything else."

Kurt recalls the hot, clenching vice of Blaine's body; he entertains the idea of slipping into that heat bare, that velvet clenching and sucking him in. Quickly, easily, he moves forward, presses Blaine towards the sheets until his back hits the bed. Kurt kisses Blaine before he can make a sound, and he's already undoing Blaine's pants, feeling him hot and hard underneath his palm through rough denim.

"Kurt, oh, ohhh," Blaine groans, hands gripping at Kurt's shoulders as a hand slips inside his underwear, wraps around the throbbing thickness of his cock. The hands on Kurt's shoulders quickly slide down Kurt's back, nails catching, digging, dragging fabric coarsely against Kurt's skin as he forces Blaine's pants lower. "More. Please."

"You're so filthy," Kurt breathes. He doesn't even know where these words are coming from, but suddenly they're spilling from his mouth and dripping onto Blaine's skin as he thumbs over the slick-swollen head of Blaine's cock, finds the smooth slope of it and trails down toward the sensitive ridge. It's like he's a man possessed with the best notion, the most inventive idea. "So fucking filthy, baby. Such a dirty little boy, wanting me like that."

Blaine lets out something akin to a mewl, his body jerking underneath Kurt's as he gasps, "Yes, yes, god, Kurt, so filthy, your filthy little boy—" and Kurt doesn't miss how Blaine's voice edges higher.

For a moment Kurt marvels at how they can turn into this, a sweaty, grinding-groping mass of half-bared skin and slick, unfocused lips. He gets Blaine's pants off, stares at the way Blaine's cock slaps against his navel and curves hard against his shirt-covered belly. Blaine's wantonly spread legs leave nothing to the imagination, and Kurt groans, palms himself as his eyes flutter half-shut with pleasure.

He thinks he wants to get Blaine on all fours for this, his eager ass in the air and his legs spread wide. But he also wants to see Blaine's face the moment he slides in, wants to see the way Blaine's eyes will close and his chin will lift, his jaw dropping and his forehead creasing deep with canyon lines before falling slack again. Kurt wants both of them together, as one, for this.

"What do you want me to do, baby?" Kurt asks, low and sultry. He goes for his fly, quickly undoing his jeans and pushing them open. Blaine's cock twitches against Blaine's stomach, and, emboldened, Kurt asks, "Do you want me to come inside that gorgeous ass of yours? Do you want my come filling you up until you can't hold it in anymore?"

Blaine keens. "Oh god. Kurt. Oh god." He blinks, looks up at Kurt with absolute desperation in his eyes; he spreads his legs and arches up, sinuously gorgeous, raised and spread and uninhibited, speaking with erotic sensuality like a splendid painting, his hair thick, bold brushstrokes, his cock easy, masculine lines, clean and eye-catching. "Fuck me, please. Fuck me."

"Christ, Blaine," Kurt breathes, a wide-eyed disbelieving spectacle. His body is humming steadily now, aching and desperate. He thinks about lube but he remains entranced, a sailor helpless to a Siren's call, by the easy spread of Blaine's legs.

He is, however, quick to get his pants and underwear off once Blaine slides a hand down to his own cock, gripping it in a tight fist as he jerks himself, rough and fast, his breath spilling in moan-studded pants from his lips. Kurt's mind can't catch up, moves too slow, and, blinking, they're both suddenly naked, Kurt's knees between Blaine's legs. Blaine twists, reaching into the drawer for the lube, and then it's being pressed into Kurt's hands, half-full and heavy with idea.

Kurt is tremblingly tender, treating this like it's their first time all over again: he bends, captures Blaine's mouth in a kiss that begins slowly before picking up quickly as he presses a slick finger to the dry clench of Blaine's hole, hesitating before swirling it around, slowly, just to feel the pucker of the muscle, the tremble of it as Blaine's body goes taut with anticipation.

Blaine whines into Kurt's mouth, his hand gripping into Kurt's hair as he arches slightly, pulls back to murmur, "God."

Kurt shushes, him, kisses him again, slipping his tongue between Blaine's lips. The tight heat of Blaine's body sucks Kurt's finger in—or maybe it's the easy eagerness of Blaine himself—and one becomes two becomes three, Kurt's fingers pressed tighter and tighter together as Blaine cries out below him, head tipped back like an offering once Kurt begins to kiss down his jaw line to his throat.

"Kurt ohmygod Kurt," Blaine gasps, his legs spreading impossibly wide as Kurt re-lubes his fingers, slips three back in and crooks, searching. "Please, please, I'm ready I'm so ready just put it in—"

Kurt's cock throbs where it hangs heavy between his legs, and he presses his forehead to Blaine's, looks down between their bodies where his hand disappears between Blaine's legs. Pre-come is shiny, slick, in the shadows of Blaine's abdomen. The air is sex-thick and humid. Kurt isn't sure if he's even been more turned on.

Before he can move, reach for more lube, Blaine's hand is suddenly circling his cock; Kurt gasps, jolting, and he stays where he is for a few moments more, panting alongside Blaine as he watches the expert twist of Blaine's wrist, the sure grip of his fist. Countless hours in bedrooms, in cars, have taught Blaine exactly what to do, how to do it, when to do it.

The smoldering fire low in Kurt's belly flares up, and he has to grab Blaine's wrist, still him, when he feels his balls tighten.

"I still need to fuck you," he says on a choked inhale.

Blaine lets his hand drop, nods. His eyes are bright golden pinpricks, shiny buttons catching the light. Wordlessly he spreads his legs, lifts them, and Kurt has to swallow hard at the sight as he reaches for the lube, slicks up his cock and only just barely manages not to thrust into the loose circle of his fist.

When he holds Blaine's legs up, wide, he doesn't even have to ask; he grips the base of his cock, finds the catch of Blaine's hole, and slowly, slowly, pushes forward.

They both gasp simultaneously as the head slides inside, and Kurt's breath catches at the slick-tight-hot-perfect of Blaine's body stretches around him. It feels like there's more of it, like there's absolutely nothing separating him and Blaine from becoming one. It's becoming harder for Kurt to hold himself back, to not thrust forward, burying himself deep.

Underneath him Blaine groans, low and long and wanton. His calf muscles flex in Kurt's grip as his toes curl and he lifts his legs a little higher, his mouth dropping open wide. "Oh my god oh my god."

"How does it feel?" Kurt asks, breathless, as half of his cock sinks in, then three-fourths, then, finally, all of it is buried deep inside Blaine.

"Like—god, like I can feel your heartbeat," Blaine gasps. His forehead scrunches before flattening. "It's so good oh fuck so good, baby." He wraps his legs tight around Kurt's waist. "Move, please, Kurt, I need you to move."

Kurt drops to his elbows, knows that there isn't going to be anything slow and sweet about this, not with the way his body is desperate to be let-loose, to get more of that perfectly soft heat. He pulls out halfway, hissing at the skin-against-skin drag, and fucks back in, drawing a low, rumbling moan from deep within Blaine's chest. Another thrust, harder, their skin slapping dully together as Blaine grunts, digs his heels into Kurt's ass.

Then Kurt is clenching his jaw, pressing his nose against the sweet curve of Blaine's neck as he fucks in harder than he ever has before, taking-taking-taking as the bed shakes, creaks, and Blaine tightens around him, arching under him. His cock slides against Kurt's stomach, slick and harder, and Blaine's nails rake blazing paths down the undulating plane of Kurt's pale back.

Hears, fast and muttered and sometimes tilting, rising, falling, "Oh god oh fuck oh fuck oh my god oh my god baby fuck me fuck me harder oh fuck feel so fucking good your cock is so good baby fuck fuck fuck—"

Blaine clenches sporadically around Kurt, drawing orgasm closer and closer s Kurt grunts, bites down at the side of Blaine's throat to hear his sudden squeal of surprised pain, then his loud, unabashed moan as that sensation bleeds into another once coupled with the thudding of Kurt's hips and balls against the round curve of Blaine's ass. "Oh god yes yes yes fuck yes Kurt like that god fuck me, come in my ass, so close so close—"

Kurt is nearly dizzy with it, with the pleasure rushing train-fast up from his balls, with the vibrantly real clench of Blaine around him, with Blaine's moans and filthy words and the stinging flashes of pain from his nails. He gets up, his flesh twinging as he moves his shoulders. Blaine's face is flushed pink, crow's feet fanning out like spokes from a bike's wheel as he clenches his eyes shut, tips his head as if calling upon god, to some unseen higher power. Kurt follows the rigid lines of his body, the raised bumps of muscle and the tautness of his belly whereupon his cock bounces, jolted with each thrust into his body.

Sitting back on his knees, he grabs Blaine's legs, holds them wide enough that Blaine sucks in a sharp breath, digging his head back into the pillow. Kurt works his hips faster, faster, chasing desperately that elusive little spark, the blooming blossom of heat. Blaine moans, turns his head to the side and grips onto the pillow, then the sheet. His mouth falls lax, slick and glistening, and he turns his head again, gazes at Kurt with bleary eyes.

Kurt grips Blaine's hips, lets out a grunt as his balls smack against Blaine's ass.

"Please tell me you're close," Blaine gasps, arching up. His hand finally strays to his cock, his fingers wrapped loosely around it. He puts a palm flat against the headboard to keep from hitting it.

"I'm close," Kurt grits out. His vision fuzzes for a second, his mind feeling like it's swimming in a hazy, barely-penetrable fog. "God I'm so close."

"Come on, come on," Blaine eggs, palming over the glistening tip of his cock. He hoods his eyes, looks up through thick lashes, and purposefully drags his tongue thick and damp over his lips. "Come in me, Kurt, come on."

The idea is pleasing, and Kurt imagines spilling deep inside his boyfriend, feeling that oozing warm slickness around his cock, then his fingers, but something tells him to hold off, and he's shaking his head before he realizes it, pulling out and gripping his cock tight, once, at the base before jacking himself in short, rapid thrusts. "Turn over, fuck, Blaine."

Blaine does immediately, doesn't ask questions, and then he's splayed out on his stomach, the perfect, round curve of his ass calling, begging, for Kurt's attention. Blaine turns his head, silently wondering, and gets up on all fours without being asked. His hand is immediately between his legs, working over his own cock.

Kurt scoots forward, grips Blaine's hip. He sucks in a shuddering breath, groans, and seconds alter, Blaine's name a faint taste on his lips, he's coming over Blaine's ass, streaks of white hitting, sliding, dripping down Blaine's cheeks, into the dark divide, down over Blaine's balls, his thighs, his lower back. Kurt presses the head of his cock into Blaine's skin, smears what's there and what dribbles sluggishly out of his cock to spread and slick over his fingers.

He barely registers Blaine gasping, breathing, "Oh my god oh my god, Kurt, fuck," and then Blaine is coming, the mattress trembling as he fucks quickly into his own fist, his cheeks clenching, the come running down, down, until Blaine finally sags, collapses onto the wet spot without a complaint.

Feeling comes back into Kurt's body in a prickly TV-static of sensation, and then he's dropping next to Blaine, pulling him into a deep, filthy kiss. They pull away with a smack of lips, staring at each other for a few moments, before they're laughing. Kurt presses another kiss, this time to Blaine's forehead, and Blaine reaches up, pushes the flopped-over fringe of Kurt's hair back up.

"That was…" Kurt starts.

"Amazing?" Blaine finishes, grinning toothily. He sits up on his elbows, suddenly bashful again. "Actually, I doubt that 'amazing' could even do it justice."

"Phenomenal? Mind-blowing? The best sex ever had by two men?"

Blaine snorts, rolls his eyes, and nudges Kurt fondly. Kurt rests his chin on his crossed arms, smiles up at Blaine. The air conditioning begins to chill his sweaty skin, sending rising rivers of gooseflesh erupting over his body, but he pays no attention to this. He hears, vaguely, Blaine's words, "I think that we should go take a shower…together," another first for them, and Kurt decides, then, that he's never been so happy to be so in love.

(Well, that and Blaine's mouth around his cock while they both stand under the spray minutes later.)