A/N: Teehee.

The Friction That You Need

It had been a rough month. Work was a nightmare, the weather was foul, and both of them were perpetually exhausted and irritable. They woke up at the crack of dawn, barely grunting their "good mornings," and stumbled home late at night, pausing only to scarf something down before collapsing into bed. There was very little time for conversation, and even less for intimacy. Blaine had tried a few times - even through the haze of exhaustion, stress, and caffeine, he could still feel the familiar stirrings of desire when Kurt pulled his shirt over his head while undressing for bed or emerged from the shower clad only in a towel slung low on his hips. Blaine felt that he would gladly sacrifice a few hours of sleep here and there for the chance to touch Kurt again, to kiss those lips and trail his fingers over that silky skin and feel that body moving beneath his. But Kurt seemed altogether uninterested, returning Blaine's kisses with a lackluster peck or rolling away when Blaine tried to snuggle in bed.

Blaine knew - or was fairly certain, at least - that Kurt's indifference didn't have anything to do with him. Kurt was even more stressed out from work than Blaine was - his boss was a total jackass, and Kurt was killing himself trying to juggle a million things and make a good impression. Given his perfectionist tendencies, he would settle for nothing less than the very best, even if that meant working himself to the bone. However, even with all his drive and dedication, his body simply did not handle sleep deprivation well, and, after a day of running around and dealing with all kinds of crazy people, the last thing he felt up to doing was engaging with another person, even if that person was Blaine. And he most certainly did not have the energy to have sex when there was so little time and so much sleeping to be done. Blaine understood all of this, and the last thing he wanted to do was push Kurt, but after a month of nothing more than pecks, he was starting to go a little insane. And so that night when he returned home from work, he resolved to try his luck again.

Kurt was already in the kitchen of their small apartment when Blaine arrived home. He was facing the counter, his back to Blaine, placing a piece of whole wheat bread in the toaster. Even from behind, he looked utterly exhausted - his shoulders drooped, and his normally immaculate hair was slightly rumpled, as if he had been running his hands through it. Blaine dropped his suitcase on the kitchen table and walked up behind Kurt, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's slender waist. "Hi," he murmured, kissing the back of Kurt's neck in greeting before resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder.

"Hi," Kurt replied, stiffening slightly before relaxing into Blaine's touch. He didn't really feel like talking, but it felt so good to be held.

"How was your day?" Blaine asked, nuzzling against Kurt's neck.

"Brutal," Kurt said, his entire body tensing as he reflected on it. "As usual."

"Maybe I can make it better," Blaine said hopefully, rolling his hips suggestively against Kurt's butt.

"Not now, Blaine," Kurt sighed.

"Come on," Blaine pleaded, kissing Kurt's neck again and tracing a finger over his hipbone.

"I said not now," Kurt snapped, twisting out of Blaine's grip.

Blaine's face fell. "I - sorry," he said quietly, looking down.

Kurt felt a pang of guilt that he chose to ignore. "It's fine," he said. He glanced over at the piece of toast that had just popped out of the toaster and sighed. "I'm not even hungry. You can have it, if you want. I'm going to bed."

"Thanks," Blaine mumbled, looking forlornly at the toast.

Kurt thought that now would probably be a good time to apologize for being such a frigid asshole, but he was too tired for a serious conversation right now. So instead he said "Night," and disappeared into the bedroom.

Blaine stood in the kitchen for a while, staring at the toast, before realizing that he wasn't hungry either. He tossed the burnt bread in the trash before creeping through their dark bedroom and into the bathroom that was connected to it. Perhaps a hot shower would make him feel better about the total failure that was his attempt at seducing Kurt. He felt unwanted and needy, not to mention completely humiliated - shot down by his own boyfriend? That was just sad.

He undressed quickly and stepped into the shower, relishing the way the hot water seemed to ease the tension in his muscles. Closing his eyes against the spray, he reached blindly for the bottle of body wash they shared and didn't realize until it was open that he had grabbed Kurt's shampoo instead. The scent of the shampoo hit him like a freight train, for it was the smell he associated most strongly with his boyfriend. His brain was instantly flooded with memories of happier times, of sweet kisses and passionate lovemaking and just being physically close to Kurt in a way that he hadn't been for far too long. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was reaching for his cock, stroking himself to the images of Kurt that were now fresh in his mind. It wasn't nearly as good as having Kurt himself, but at least it was something, and his neglected dick was grateful for the attention.

Outside in the bedroom, Kurt was finding it hard to fall asleep. He still felt guilty about the exchange with Blaine, and he was debating getting up and apologizing when Blaine got out of the shower. It was as he was weighing the pros and cons of this possibility that he heard the shower shut off, only to be replaced by the sound of soft moans coming from the bathroom. Feeling even more horribly guilty at the thought of Blaine crying over what he had done, Kurt slid out of bed and tiptoed across the short distance to the bathroom door. Pushing it open, his gaze fell upon Blaine, half-standing against the wall just outside the shower, eyes closed while one hand pumped his cock.

Kurt's jaw dropped. "What the hell are you doing?" he said, although given the position Blaine was currently in, it was fairly obvious what he was doing.

Blaine's eyes snapped open, and he froze, hand still gripping his dick. "I - "

Kurt was staring at him with a very odd expression on his face. "Really? With me in the next room?"

"I'm sorry," Blaine said, mortified. "I just - it's been so long, and I was desperate, I'm sorry - "

"Stop. Just stop it," Kurt commanded.

Blaine released his dick, feeling very foolish and very exposed. He was about to apologize again, when, very suddenly, Kurt had crossed the room in two quick strides, and Blaine was being pressed up against the bathroom wall, Kurt's tongue pushing past his lips as Kurt's hand closed around his aching cock.

Blaine made some sort of unintelligible noise and kissed back hungrily, thrusting into Kurt's hand. He clawed at Kurt's back through the thin material of his sleep t-shirt (one of Blaine's, actually, that Kurt had stolen years ago), trying to pull him even closer.

"Fuck, you're hard," Kurt hissed, and all Blaine could do was whine in response because it had been so long since he had heard Kurt talk like that.

Kurt grabbed Blaine's hips and pulled him forcefully from the wall, pushing him across the bathroom until his front was pressed against the counter. Kurt stood behind him, his pajama-covered erection rubbing against Blaine's ass, and their eyes locked in the mirror. Blaine recognized the expression in Kurt's eyes - it was animalistic, almost predatory. It was the look he got when he knew he was about to leave Blaine utterly wrecked, and it sent shivers down Blaine's spine.

Kurt dragged his fingers down Blaine's sides and sank to his knees behind him, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on Blaine's ass cheeks. He blew lightly on the cleft in Blaine's ass before spreading him gently and darting his tongue out for a tentative lick. He smirked when Blaine's entire body jolted in response. Pleased, and consumed with a sort of mad lust he hadn't felt in weeks, maybe months, Kurt licked Blaine's hole again, more firmly this time. Blaine jerked again and whined, pressing back against Kurt's tongue. The movement sent shocks straight to Kurt's crotch. Kurt licked one more time and stood up again, flattening his body against Blaine's back and digging his fingers into Blaine's hips.

"You're just desperate to be fucked, aren't you, Blaine?" he murmured, his lips brushing against Blaine's ear.

Their eyes met in the mirror again, and Blaine could only whimper and nod in acknowledgement. He could see from his reflection that he looked like a filthy, desperate whore right now, his face flushed and his eyes dark and glazed with lust, practically salivating at the prospect of being fucked over a bathroom counter by his boyfriend. He couldn't bring himself to care at all.

"Say it," Kurt ordered, reaching for the drawer beneath the counter and fumbling in it until he found the small bottle that had lain untouched for the past month. He hurriedly slicked his fingers up and reached down to begin teasing Blaine's hole.

Blaine let out a strangled groan at the feeling of Kurt's fingers at his entrance, and he slumped forward, his elbows coming to rest on the counter. Kurt was tracing tight circles around his hole, teasing mercilessly.

"Say it," Kurt said again, biting down on Blaine's shoulder.

"Fuck me," Blaine begged, his voice broken. "Please, Kurt, please - "

Kurt pressed a finger inside, peppering Blaine's shoulder blades with kisses as he gave him time to adjust. When Blaine seemed ready, he began moving his finger gently but quickly, stretching Blaine in a well-practiced pattern that had been honed and perfected over the years. Kurt often felt that he knew Blaine's body better than he knew his own.

He brushed his finger over Blaine's prostate and smiled at the familiar cry of pleasure the touch elicited. Blaine's head fell forward on to his forearms and Kurt added another finger, sensing that his boyfriend was very near to falling to pieces beneath him. He felt a pang of guilt at having made Blaine wait so long for this, but comforted himself with the knowledge that he was doing a damn good job of making up for it right now.

Kurt added a third finger, and he was scissoring and stretching expertly now, mercilessly stroking Blaine's prostate. Blaine was whining and writhing and thrusting back against Kurt's hand, trying to fuck himself on Kurt's fingers. "Kurt," he said hoarsely. "Now, fuck, now, please -"

He let out a sharp, pitiful cry as Kurt pulled his fingers out to tug down his pajama pants and slather lube over his cock. He shuddered at the feeling of his own hand, and remembered in horror that it really had been a month since he had paid his dick any attention. He looked down at Blaine, legs spread, hole stretched and waiting, his entire body shaking from stimulation and anticipation, and he was suddenly very sure that this was not going to last long.

Kurt wrapped a protective arm around Blaine's waist - Blaine liked to be held during sex, especially when he was this far gone - and lined himself up. He slid into Blaine slowly, gasping at the tightness around him and wondering why the hell he had insisted on going so long without this. Blaine let out another broken moan and rocked back against Kurt, willing him to start moving.

"God, you really are begging to be fucked," Kurt said through gritted teeth. Blaine whimpered and lifted his head to look at Kurt in the mirror, his eyes pleading. "I fucking love you like this," Kurt breathed, and he leaned forward to press a tender kiss to Blaine's spine before beginning to thrust in earnest.

Their bodies fell into a familiar rhythm, Blaine grunting and gasping every time Kurt's cock hit his prostate. He felt like he had back when they were teenagers, when every touch was urgent and every sensation was nearly too much to bear. They had been desperate then and they were more than a little desperate now, their movements becoming more and more frantic as the heat and tension began to build.

Kurt reached around and gripped Blaine's swollen cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Their eyes met in the mirror again, and Blaine realized with another jolt of excruciating pleasure that he was literally watching himself be fucked. He saw the concentration on Kurt's face and the slightly delirious look on his own, saw the sheen of sweat on their bodies and the way their lips moved to form the groans and gasps that filled the thick bathroom air. Most of all, he saw that Kurt was watching him, drinking in the sight of him falling apart and loving every minute of it.

Their eyes stayed locked as Kurt thrusted again, hitting Blaine's prostate as he twisted the hand on Blaine's cock just so. With a sound that was somewhere between a shout and a sob, Blaine came, his entire body spasming with the orgasm he had been dreaming of for a month. He slumped against the counter, limp and exhausted, as Kurt rocked his hips forward once more and came too, head falling forward on to Blaine's back.

They stayed like that for a while, curved over the bathroom counter with Kurt still wrapped around Blaine. When their breathing returned to normal, Kurt slid out of his boyfriend, kissing Blaine's back and shoulders to ease him through the sudden sensation of emptiness. Blaine turned to face Kurt, raising himself to sit on the counter. Kurt stood between his legs.

"It's good to have you back," Blaine said.

Kurt pushed a stray curl off of Blaine's forehead. "Thanks for waiting for me," he replied softly.

"I'd wait for you forever," Blaine said earnestly, and it was a ridiculously sappy thing to say but it didn't matter because Kurt knew he meant every word.

Kurt smiled. "I won't make you wait that long again," he promised.

And, for the record, he kept his word.

A/N: Hope you liked it. I'm not gonna lie, this was ridiculously fun to write. The title comes from Darren Criss's song "Stutter," which pretty much changed my life.