Title: Displacement

Rating: NC-17 (like woah)

Spoilers: None

Summary: A conversation that begins with: What's the dirtiest sex fantasy you have?

Words: 9400

Warnings: This is dirty, filthy, messy sex. And by that I mean comeplay. And I don't want to spoil further but if you need to talk to me about what I mean so you're sure you want to read it, drop me a line and I'll give you a full set of warnings. Also: very brief mentions of some squicky stuff. But it's mentioned in passing and not actually done. Oh god, just read it: it's everything I've ever threatened to write.

A/N: This took me a few days to get out and I've blathered a lot about it on tumblr. I haven't written long, intense porn for a few months, content to write shorter one shots that are sweeter and fluffier. This is still a very happy fic but it's dirty. And very, very overly-long and wordy. The sex is a bit unrealistic, I know, I don't care. It's fiction and they're both sexgods in my mind so they can pull this off. Thank you so much to everyone who responded to my talking in circles on tumblr and to everyone who offered to read over it. Especially mallory and sam who read various bits and put up with tumblr and email eating everything because (I suspect) my use of the word 'cock' over and over makes everything I write look like spam.

So thank you everyone. I'm going to go and pray for my soul about now. Enjoy it? Maybe?

"What's the dirtiest sex fantasy you have? "

Kurt pulls back from the lingering press of mouths to skin immediately. Up on his elbows, over his boyfriend, staring, just a little wide-eyed. "What?"

Under him, Blaine blushes and smiles. "You heard me," he whispers.

"This is really something you want to talk about? Now?" Because they could still be making out. Blaine's mouth on his neck, his own lips drifting back and forth across Blaine's temple as their hands continue to edge under clothes and their hips continued to take advantage of gravity and friction and enjoy each other.

"Yeah."

Kurt kisses him again, pressing his lips down hard and then drawing back, temping Blaine's mouth up to his and sliding his tongue inside.

"Not gonna tell me?" Blaine wonders aloud.

Kurt groans something displeased and rocks his hips, contemplating rolling away and pushing his clothes off quickly to distract.

"But you'll want to try one day," Blaine continues. "Whatever it is, you'll want to try it." With me. You'll have to tell me.

Distraction sounds good so Kurt's spreading his legs and sitting up across Blaine's lap, tugging his shirt over his head in one smooth, seductive move. "I don't know," he answers, aiming for disinterest. Except he doesknow. He knows everything he's been thinking in the year and a half since they started dating. The almost-year since they started having sex.

Blaine almost sounds hurt when his fingers start tugging at the buttons of Kurt's jeans, "You don't think you'll ever tell me?"

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and rocks his hips once more. The deepest, darkest fantasy flashes across the inside of his eyelids. He can feel it and taste it, it seems so real. "I can't imagine—"

Voice dying, Blaine is grabbing his wrists and pulling him down, kissing him and then pushing him back, saying fiercely, "One day I'm going to know all of your secrets." He waits for Kurt to object but he stays quiet because that's what he wants. Blaine keeps going: "I'm going to be able to play your body with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back." He swallows and his gaze lingers only a second longer before his eyes dip away.

Kurt tries to sound scandalized but it's too breathless and low, "Blaine!"

Blaine grins and pulls him back in for another kiss. "What?"

"How do you know you want that?" Kurt asks, voice quiet. They have sex and it's wonderful. Desperate and fast and cheeky and loving and wonderful. Dirty is new.

"You don't think it's true?" Blaine asks, again sounding unsure. "That's we'll know everything about each other?"

Kurt knows it's unrealistic: everyone keeps secrets, right? And he knows the things he wants to keep to himself. For now, at least. Some things he's not sure he even wants to see when he squeezes his eyes shut. Kurt breathes out and attempts to get their hips pressing again, set up an undeniable rock that will reignite them a little.

It doesn't, Blaine just avoids his mouth and raises his eyebrows: "Tell me somethingyou haven't told me yet?" Blaine pleads.

"Anything?"

Kurt bites down on his lip, thinking, unable to deny the hot twist in his stomach at the temptation to tell a secret. He could say something easy: 'I like it when you linger after you kiss me good morning because it feels like you're struggling to pull away.' But instead, Kurt mumbles, "I like it when you push into my mouth without meaning to."

Blaine's eyes go wide and he stops breathing, Kurt stares and waits and hopes that's okay. Then Blaine's eyelashes flutter and his lips curve upwards as he chuckles, grabbing Kurt's hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. "You want to tell me all your dirty sexy secrets. So I can…" Blaine swallows, "So we can do them."

Kurt laughs at him and drops down, pressing chest to chest and then sliding off to snuggle into his side. He's still hard in his jeans where he's grinding slowly into Blaine's hip. And Blaine's own hand immediately goes to his own crotch, palming himself through his sweatpants. "What if you don't like all my ideas," Kurt asks.

Turning his head, Blaine stares, watches him for a second before he says, simply, "Then we talk about it. Negotiate and work something out." It's remarkably grown up and level-headed for a seventeen year old but it is Blaine. "I won't ever make you do anything you don't feel comfortable with. That you don't want. You know that. It's not a question."

Kurt wriggles in closer, a thin layer of sweat on the back of his neck, tracing down his spine. "Tell me one of yours."

"One of mine?"

Kurt hums as he thinks and hitches his leg higher. "Yeah." He thinks again. "Just a timid one."

Blaine looks at him, Kurt's eyes bright and a little unsure but earnest, wondering, like this is the first time he's really thought about Blaine thinking about it. The first time he's realized that Blaine has fantasies. Dirtyfantasies.

Blaine worries his lip, suddenly nervous. "It's a fantasy," he reiterates.

Kurt grins at him. "Yeah, I know."

"So it can be fantastical."

And now Kurt laughs, teasing, "Not so easy, is it?"

Blaine narrows his eyes. The air is tense and his hand has stoped moving and Kurt's just contentedly pressed up against his side. And mocking him. So Blaine does the only thing obvious and pushes Kurt away with one quick, rough push of his hands, clamouring to get over him and push his weight down before Kurt realizes what is going on. He snakes his hands up Kurt's naked sides, fingers dancing over the skin in little darting tickles and then under his arms, fingertips brushing as Kurt shrieks and squirms kicks and ties to get free.

Blaine just grins and laughs as Kurt bucks and laughs with him. He doesn't relent until Kurt's begging and the sheets under them are twisted. Only then does Blaine pulls his hands back, throwing Kurt a coy look.

"Stop buying time," Kurt snarks, "This was your idea."

"Fine," Blaine hums, content straddling Kurt's waist. "Fine. Um…" A fantasy. "I want…um…oh, I know…" Timid, dirty fantasy sex. "I want to have sex in a dewy meadow. With lilacs."

Kurt snorts in a very not-Kurt-like manner and rolls his eyes. "That's mine."

"No," Blaine shushes him, "Let me finish. I've thought about this."

"Oh." Kurt had kind of thought he was kidding.

"A lot."

"Oh."

A deep breath. "I imagine convincing you to skip out on last period and I drive us out to some meadow in the middle of nowhere and seduce you slowly, just…really romantically." Blaine knows Kurt likes that. "And then I'd take all your clothes off and lay you back and ride you until you agree to take Taylor Lautner off your bucket list." There's the sound of him exhaling before he continues. "And then give you the greatest orgasm of you life."

Kurt stares. It's ridiculous. And kind of hot. And he wonders if this is what his initial admission in the school hallways had made Blaine feel. The he starts to smile and Blaine smiles too, until they're both blushing and feeling pretty silly and then Kurt's grabbing the pillow from beside him and hitting Blaine playfully in the face with it.

"That wasn't really that dirty." After a moment, he adds, "I don't know how I feel about sex outdoors."

"Yes well," Blaine scratches the back of his head and Kurt can see him thinking. "What do you mean it wasn't that dirty? What's dirty?"

And they're back where they began, Kurt squirming just a little in his own skin and blushing. "I can't tell you my fantasies. I'm not…I don't know if…" Jesus, why is it so difficult. Surely, he knew Blaine was going to start to wonder. And he owes Blaine honesty. "You make me think things and…feel things…that I never really planned on thinking. Or feeling." Blaine continues to watch him intently, carefully. "Does that make sense?"

Blaine shrugs and kind of wishes he wasn't sitting above Kurt for this conversation. "Yeah. But you gotta know you can trust me with anything."

Kurt laughs softly, cheeks on fire again because he can't stop thinking about a dozen different things. "I don't think I trust myself."

The conversation stalls and Blaine doesn't want to push and Kurt doesn't want to say 'No'.

Honesty. "What if it was something really weird?" Kurt asks, choosing to focus his gaze on the curve of Blaine's waist rather than his face. "Like…god I don't know. What if I wanted you to dress up like…like…like a dog or something," his eyes flicker up and Blaine's gaping a little but trying to school his expression. Kurt scrambles, "That's not it. It's not! But—"

Blaine cuts across him. "So like roleplay?"

Kurt stares. "No! God, Blaine! No! I just mean, what if it was really weird and gross like the ads you seen on porn sights?"

"I thought you didn't watch porn."

"Not the point," Kurt snaps, words welling up when he really wishes they weren't. "I mean what is it's not normal? What if it's like those men who stick half their arm up…up…." He screws his eyes closed. "Or…or when thy pee on each other. What then? Then what will you do?" He snaps his mouth shut and thinks hard enough about physically extracting himself that he feels Blaine's knees tighten at his sides.

When Blaine speaks, he sounds like he's being so, so, careful. "Is that what it is? One of those?" This isn't what he was asking for…

"Blaine! No. Oh my god, no, what would you think of me!"

"I'd…" Still careful. "It's not any of those?"

"No," Kurt sounds scandalized and Blaine breathes out at the wash of relief.

His hands up Kurt's chest, warm and spread, up to his cheeks to hold there, making Kurt look at him, Blaine muddles his way through his own thoughts aloud. "Even if it was something like that it wouldn't…I wouldn't understand it but I would try."

Kurt stares in disbelief. "You would try?"

"I would try to do anything for you to make you happy." There's no hesitation, he just sounds fiercely honest.

"But those…"

"Kurt…I don't know what it is you're thinking of telling me but having weird kinks isn't really going to make me feel differently about you." Perhaps he's being naïve but it feels true. "I want you to feel like you can tell me."

"It's not really as bad as any of those," Kurt says.

Again Kurt thinks he can hear Blaine's breath slowing, calming, relief.

"Kurt," Blaine says and god Kurt will never get sick of listening to Blaine say his name. "Your dirtiest, weirdest, hottest fantasy."

"Yeah?" Kurt asks.

Swallowing, Blaine negotiates. "Write it down, put it in an envelope, and I'll open it when you're ready for me to read it."

Brow furrowing and his nose scrunching, Kurt can't imagine what that would achieve, so he asks, "Why?"

Blaine shrugs again and leans down to steal a kiss. He thinks he wants to know everything , no matter how strange or unexpected it might be. But perhaps not now. Perhaps he just wants to know that one day he'll know.

"I want to feel like I'm carrying it around with me. This secret. That one day you'll let me read."

It's strangely intimate and hot and it doesn't cross Kurt's mind that he'll peek. He simply thinks about it for several long seconds as Blaine waits and then nods, agrees and it makes Blaine smiles.

Minutes later they're naked and under the sheets, pressed close and hard. Blaine says something self-effacing with regards to Taylor Lautner and Kurt giggling into his shoulder.

The next day at school Kurt pulls a plain white envelope from between his books, blushes and holds onto it tight as he pushes it into Blaine's hand, telling him to keep it safe.

A little over three years later Kurt asks him if he still has it. They're in New York, still dressed in the clothes they both wore to classes that day, spread out on their backs on a king size bed. It is, by both their reckonings, their five year anniversary.

Five years since the stairs. Not five years since the kiss. Or since they lost their virginities to each other. Those anniversaries will come later. But they already know Blaine will be stuck across the Atlantic for the former. And Kurt can't wait for the latter to celebrate. He still wonders that they didn't fuck each other until over half a year after they started dating.

So they've booked a hotel room they can't afford for the weekend. They've made it clear to everyone they know they're not available for brunches or parties or anything—though they haven't said why—until Monday, left their books and laptops at home, and promised each other a lazy weekend of room service, slow walks through New York, a show and lots and lots of sex.

They've only been in the room ten minutes and already Kurt is asking. "Do you still have the dirty fantasy I wrote?" He's been thinking about it all week but he's grown whimsical enough to leave it up to chance.

Or dedication. Or something. Because he hasn't mentioned it for over three years.

Blaine raises up on an elbow and fixes him with a steady, considering gaze; it's obvious that he immediately knows what Kurt is talking about. "I do."

There's a quick shake of Kurt's head and the slow curl of a smile, as though he's surprised, but he isn't. "Where is it?"

Once more Blaine doesn't answer immediately, staring, calculating, wondering. Then he rolls gracefully off the bed and pads across to where their small case is resting near the door. It's in one of the little zipped compartments that Kurt rarely bothers with, the paper now off-white and the corners bent.

Blaine sits back down on the edge of the bed.

"You never peeked," Kurt states.

"Now?" Blaine asks, breathless and hopeful and a little bit scared.

He's never forgotten this but as the months have turned into years he had begun to think that Kurt must have. Or decided against it. Over three years of sex and a longer time being honest has left them, they like to think, sexually adventurous. Barely of legal drinking age and they fuck rough and dirty as often as that do it slow and sensuous.

They've learnt from each other, about each other.

Blaine wonders what could be in the envelope that they haven't already slipped into doing. His mind darts back to what they talked about at seventeen, to the way Kurt blushed and wouldn't meet his eyes, how they were still used to doing most things in the dark and keeping quiet and asking too many questions.

"Blaine…" Kurt moves to sit next to him, shoulders brushing. "Open it."

The paper tears easily, a forefinger pulled along a seam and then the single sheet of paper pulled out and unfolded.

I want to fuck you bare and then lick it out of you.

Jesus. It's not like anything Blaine had thought about when Kurt had first written it down—roleplay, whips, weird daddy issues. It's not very much like what Blaine had more recently guessed: something comparatively innocent, something they already did—sixty nine, edging, rimming.

But it all slides into place. Makes perfect sense in the context of what he knows about Kurt's mind.

That he would write that at seventeen though.

"You can say no," Kurt mumbles and when Blaine looks he's blushing and biting down on his bottom lip.

I want to fuck you bare and then lick it out of you.

They fuck bare but not very often because the mess and…

And Kurt swallows enthusiastically, every time. Sucks come off fingers and Blaine's lips.

"Say it."

Kurt stares, head tilting. He sucks on both lips, one after the other and doesn't need to break eye contact to read: "I want to fuck you bare and then lick it out of you."

"When you were seventeen," Blaine breathes.

Kurt continues to hold his gaze. "As I said, that was it, my dirtiest fantasy, but you can say no."

"No." Blaine falls into him, uncoordinated and pressing, one hand tilting Kurt's head while his face finds the curve of Kurt's neck, a leg pushed over his lap. Then he realizes what that sounded like: "Fuck, Kurt, Yes."

The tension in Kurt's muscles dissipates and he shifts to try to meet the press of Blaine's body, tugs at him with his hands on his belt and then finds his mouth and kisses him hard. He wants to pull back and talk, laugh and blush and make sure.

But when he tries to, Blaine's hands get rough, hungry, the space that Kurt has put between them only serving to give Blaine the room he needs to lift Kurt by the hips and then push him flat on his back across the bed. He's on top of him too quickly, straddling him and already pressing down, grinding. His hands find Kurt's wrists, hold them tight to the high-thread-count sheets as his whole body slides over his, catching buttons and belt buckles and not caring because it's hot and his mouth is working Kurt's lips to slick and kiss-swollen.

Kurt lets him, of course, mind fuzzy already with the fast turn of events, surprised but not really that Blaine hasn't weighed the options or talked this through, just thrown himself into it like always.

Teeth around Kurt's tongue, teasing, scratching as he sucks. Then Blaine nips sharply at Kurt's bottom lip, making him buck and moan beneath him. His hips slide back, both of them groaning at the sudden loss of friction but Blaine sits up, mouth open, panting, as he focuses on getting Kurt's pants undone. He tugs the belt open, then the button, the zipper. Kurt squirms and Blaine manages to push his jeans the few inches lower he needs. Then he's got a hand in Kurt's boxerbriefs and he's stroking roughly.

It's too fast and Kurt's head snaps back into the mattress, the rough dry friction around his cock, already hard and straining, making his eye cross. "Blaine," he moans out.

Blaine scrambles off the bed, hand still working Kurt's dick in fast, hard strokes, thumb swiping the precome down the side. Then his hand is gone and he's got both ankles and Blaine's pulling him forward so his ass is balanced on the side.

Jeans, underwear and socks are gone within seconds and Kurt's pulling his sweater and shirt off as Blaine resumes jacking him off.

"You wanna lick it out of me," Blaine whispers and hearing it from his tongue goes straight to Kurt's dick, makes him moan and his back bow. Blaine swallows, "You wanna fuck me, come in me and then turn me over and clean me up with you mouth."

"Jesus, Blaine." Kurt's whimpering and all too aware that if Blaine keeps fisting him the way he is, saying the things he's saying, there will be no fantasy fulfilment tonight.

But Blaine's mind is racing over the idea still, turning it over, trying it on, seeing how it lines up with his. It's new and strange and not really his thing. But it's Kurt's and who is he to think badly of getting fucked bare, come inside and then rimmed.

And Kurt was thinking it at seventeen.

When they were still fumbling around deep-throating and face-fucking and having sex so they could see everything. Kurt was thinking about licking his own come out of Blaine's ass.

Blaine wants to see it happen. Wants to see if it is everything his seventeen year old boyfriend thought it was when he jerked himself off late at night and imagined it.

Under his hand, Kurt's cock feels hot and heavy. He's never wanted it inside him as badly as he wants it now. Never wanted to hear Kurt gasp and come and then squeeze his eyes shut and try to feel the spill of hot and wet inside him.

His hand pulls away, leaves Kurt there naked and flushed red, legs hanging off the edge of the bed and spread open. "I know what you want," Blaine tells him as he sets to work on his own clothes.

Kurt watches, up on his elbows, listening and letting it pulse through him: Kurt doesn't talk like this much, but he listens, and Blaine has a way of speaking, narrating the sex, that makes his skin tighten. "You wanna do it my way?" Blaine asks.

Kurt cocks his head to the side. "Your way?"

"I have ideas."

Kurt's breath comes out in a whoosh. "You've thought about this?"

Hesitating as he throws his shirt towards the suitcase, Blaine grins wickedly, "Only in the last few minutes. Comeplay's really more your thing."

Kurt whispers Blaine's name out as his cheeks heat and he wonders what Blaine thinks he knows. And what he means.

Naked and crawling up the side of the bed, not touching, but watching, Blaine leans over to kiss Kurt's mouth. "I know you like licking it off my hands ever if you've never said it." Another kiss, tongue teasing at Kurt's bottom lip. "I know you come harder when we fuck without a condom." Blaine's tongue in his mouth, fleetingly, a hand on his skin, dormant across his stomach. "Which confused me because you so often get one out of the draw before I can say not to."

Kurt pulls back and stares and wonders why Blaine's never said anything before. Then he realizes Blaine was probably waiting for this.

"You don't think it's weird?"

Blaine chuckles. "I think it's hot." He looks like he's about to move but then he just kisses him again. "I was so confused when you always insisted on having a shower on your own after I fucked you bare."

Kurt swallows. Blaine's right, he's been hiding things without thinking. "I'm sor—"

Blaine kisses him to shut him up. "Now it kind of makes sense."

"Let me do it my way," Blaine asks again.

"Why?" Kurt asks, stalling, mind still reeling a little at all the little things Blaine's picked up over the years.

"Because I want to make so good for you baby."

He can't ever say no to that.

Kurt nods and Blaine kisses him, slower this time, licking into his mouth and against his tongue, smiling. "Good boy."

Then Blaine's ass is in Kurt's face and Blaine's mouth is around his cock and Kurt's back is arching up off the sheets. Blaine sucks once, long and hard and takes the length of Kurt's cock down his throat, holding there and letting him feel the tight wet heat. Then he pulls back, sits up on his haunches across Kurt's chest, his ass still right there in front of Kurt, and looks back down at him over his shoulder.

"Lick me open," Blaine challenges, eyes sparkling as he watches Kurt's gaze shift to his ass, Kurt's hand already spread over the cheeks and pulling him wide.

"We've never…" They haven't, not like this.

Blaine waits for Kurt to say 'No'.

"Come here."

Kurt's fingers dig into the flesh of Blaine's thighs and Blaine shuffles inches back on his knees, conscious of how heavy he is across Kurt's chest, of the angles, of the need to breathe.

And then Kurt's tongue, hot, wet, rough, is running up his crack, fleetingly over his hole and then sliding back down, teasing in a circle.

Blaine groans and falls back onto his arms, mouth back within inches of Kurt's cock and he tries to concentrate past the lick of Kurt's tongue over the back of his balls.

"Lick me open," Blaine says again, hot breath over Kurt's cock. "Doesn't have to feel amazing. Just lick me open." He presses back with his ass, into the palms of Kurt's hands until he can feel Kurt's nails just starting to bite and his lips and nose pressed tight into the stretched flesh of the cleft of his ass.

He feels Kurt's tongue working around his hole harder, tight little circles, not meant to tease but to build, and then long wet laps of the flat of his tongue.

Blaine tries to ignore it completely, letting his hips ride down onto Kurt's mouth while he sets to work with his own. He's gotten awfully good at deep-throating in three years. Practice and an innate ability paired with blissful, easy trust. And he takes advantage of it now, sinking his mouth, wet and open wide, all the way down the length of Kurt's cock. It rests hard and hot in his throat, pushing heavy against his tongue and the roof of his mouth and cutting off air.

The hot wet pressure of Blaine's mouth doesn't seem to end. It seems to stretch, minute after minute, tight and perfect and making Kurt's stomach feel tight with want. He keeps licking, splitting his attention the best he can and waiting, waiting, for Blaine to pull off. Licks harder over Blaine's ass and then presses the tip of his tongue inside.

Then, finally, Blaine pulls off with a splutter and Kurt can imagine the way his eyes would be bright and wet. Has seconds to savour that as his fingers edge closer to where his mouth is still pressed tight to Blaine's hole and then Blaine's licking down the length.

Kurt groans and his hips twist in Blaine's hands. Blaine's own hips just pressing back and down and making it hard for Kurt to find breath between the heat of Blaine's skin and the need to keep his mouth on him. Keep working him open even though he can feel spit sliding down his chin and painting wetly onto the tip of his nose.

A finger slides into Blaine's ass, Kurt's tongue still flicking at the rim as he lets Blaine start fucking himself back. Tongue working in beside and making Blaine moan loudly around Kurt's cock.

Blaine stops teasing, stops licking up the veins and sucking one ball and then the other into his mouth. Kurt can feel his fingers wrapping around and it's so wet, the friction, and angling and then Blaine slides down again. He's holding his mouth tight and perfect and bobbing until Kurt's hips start moving to meet him.

Redoubling his efforts, Kurt works a second finger in, pools spit on his tongue and pushes it between, lapping it onto his fingers and into Blaine's ass and fingering him roughly through it with the forefinger of each hand. Blaine's still rolling his hips back onto the joined pleasure of Kurt's mouth and fingers, fucking himself down on to them even as Kurt shudders to realize his hips are fucking up hard into Blaine's throat.

Another deep fuck of his tongue into Blaine's ass, feeling the muscle tight but open around him as he slides two fingers deep, everything slick with spit and he doesn't want to think what his face looks like. Except it's going to get so, so, much worse. Better.

Blaine's going to let him do this. Except Blaine's hands are suddenly around the back of Kurt's ass, holding him up off the bed with his cock once again balls deep in Blaine's mouth and he's sucking hard, swallowing around him and Kurt groans and grips his toes in the sheets, his fingers still splayed over Blaine's ass, to stop from coming.

He tries to warn, tries to say something but his mouth is still working against Blaine's hole. Turning his head, Blaine's still working himself open on Kurt's fingers and Kurt just finds his teeth digging into the curve of Blaine's backside, biting and Blaine keeps sucking.

He can'tcome yet.

Blaine pulls off suddenly, rocking back once so Kurt's two fingers push deep inside him and then he rolls off to the side. Back up, scrambling, then he's tugging at Kurt's hands and rearranging the pillows and Kurt's mostly just lying there.

"I almost came down your throat."

Blaine laughs at him, laughs at him, and spares a minute to take in his spit-slick lips and chin, the imprint of where his thighs have rested across Kurt's chest, and then down to his dick, quite sufficiently coated in saliva, precome again pooled in the slit as Kurt's cock stands, flushed dark red and hard from his body.

"I love it when you talk dirty to me," Blaine teases, knowing it only ever happens by accident on Kurt's part and knowing how to surprise. He scrambles around, brackets Kurt's body with his hands and knees and swoops down to kiss him, open mouthed and catching Kurt mid-gasp, sliding his tongue in and across Kurt's and tasting, moaning against it as their eyes flicker closed.

He pulls back with a lick to Kurt's chin and a ridiculous bop of his index finger to the tip of Kurt's nose. Everything's wet.

Then Blaine's off again, bouncing on hands and knees up the bed and when Kurt looks Kurt is immediately reaching down for his own cock, squeezing it as he blinks hard, unsure if he's trying to burn the image into his mind or off his retinas. Blaine's looking back, over a shoulder, still on hands and knees but a little splayed. His ass is wide and the stark white light of the hotel room makes the rivulets of saliva that have dripped from his hole to his balls, down the insides of his thighs, obvious.

It's not something Kurt hasn't seen before: Blaine's opened up ass, but Kurt's almost come twice already and his cock throbs under his palm.

Then Blaine's smiling darkly, making Kurt guess, and dropping to his elbows, his ass raised higher in the air. Kurt's body shifts without really knowing why, wanting to see all of Blaine stretched out and ready, watching him back with fuck-me eyes and a smile. Watching Kurt as Blaine slides two fingers into his own mouth and hums around them for effect.

"What…?" Kurt's voice dies as Blaine's fingers slip free, left hovering below his lips a couple of inches, a string of spit suspended.

It shouldn't be hot, it shouldn't be. But Blaine licks his lips and slicks his fingers even more, pushing the saliva from his mouth and letting it land and drip down his fingers. He stretches back between his legs, wet fingers inside his hole, pushing deep and testing while Kurt just stares slack-jawed and starving.

"Come fuck me,' breaks his stare, makes his gaze flicker back up to Blaine where he's still straining to look back and grin.

Blaine's fingers slip free and Kurt starts to scramble, trying to think where exactly in his case he packed the toilet bag, where exactly in the toilet bag he put the lube, but Blaine is wriggling his ass back and arching further.

"Bare. I don't need lube."

Kurt wants to argue but Blaine's so slick with spit and Kurt just wants to be inside, coming so hard he forgets to breathe.

He scrambles forward, debates pulling Blaine around, doing this face to face like usual, pulling him into his lap and keeping their eyes locked. But he knows Blaine's on his elbows and knees for a reason and the knowledge of it shivers down his spine.

Kurt's hands are on his hips, already tight and bruising because this feels dangerous. Bare-cocked and no lube. Just all the spit, Kurt realizes, they've managed to spread. His own cock still slick, Blaine's hole licked and fingered open and wet from both of their saliva. Kurt swallows and tells himself, slow.

But Blaine's loose and relaxed, head against his elbows, ass back and up. He breathes easily and wills Kurt forward. Doesn't gasp or whine as the head of Kurt's cock slips inside, just pushes back, trying to get more as Kurt stills.

Another inch and it's tight and the friction different to when they're both lubed up and Kurt's spent too long teasing him open. But it's easy and Blaine can feel the naked press of hot skin to hot skin.

"More," he whispers and Kurt's hips stutter forward automatically on the command.

Inches, tight and hot and Kurt is watching it happen, fighting his mind from racing ahead and imagining what it will feel like to come inside Blaine when he's allowed to savour that. Hold there, hold there, and then pull back and map everything that just happened with his mouth. And Blaine's going to let him.

He sinks the rest of the way in and waits, wondering how long the slickness of spit will last. Wondering how long he will last.

Blaine huffs out a breath and it sounds like frustration and Kurt falls forward onto his hands, pressing his belly to the small of Blaine's back and reaching beneath them to test the hardness of Blaine's own cock, wondering how much of this is Blaine getting off on it and how much is Blaine giving him what he wants.

Blaine's growl and the instant grind back of his ass answer, just like every other time, that the two experiences overlap substantially. "Don't," Blaine forces out and Kurt pulls his hand away, his hips moving forward to meet every grind back of Blaine's.

"Don't wanna come yet," Blaine says by way of explanation. "Want you to fuck me as hard as you want and come inside me."

A breath rattles out at the admission and Blaine feels Kurt's fingers flex into the bed.

"Fuck me."

Kurt swallows hard, mouth at Blaine's neck, just resting, and then he pulls his hips back properly, slides out and then pushes in in one long, careful stroke, testing the friction, feeling it burst through him hot and rough and making his stomach tighten.

"Please," Blaine pleads.

Kurt does it again, a little harder, less concerned. Then again and without pausing. Fucks into him hard so they can both feel it and hear the smack of skin on kin when he's fully sheathed and laying heavily across Blaine's back.

"Not gonna last," Kurt warns into the back of Blaine's neck, teeth nipping there to punctuate as his hips set up their own primal pace, thrusts shortening as his body just works towards release.

"Don't want you to."

Kurt's gone a second later, disappointed for a second when he feels Blaine's legs widen several more inches and his cock slide even deeper as he fucks forward hard. He feels it unravel because Blaine told him to and it shoots hot up his spine, makes his stomach and balls feel tight and then he's fucking forward again and Blaine's taking his weight as he shakes and spills inside him.

Kurt thinks he swears as it happens, voice high and body taut as he tries in vain to reconcile the tight-hot-wet with the pulse of his body, the blood in his ears rushing as he knowshe spills deep in Blaine's ass, painting him with come from the inside. He wonders if Blaine feels it and can hear him groaning quietly into the pillow as he begins to come back to himself.

He steadies his body on his hands and tries to clear his mind, licking his lips absent-mindedly as he asks, "You okay?"

Blaine chuckles and it trembles along Blaine's ribs and spine and up into Kurt's skin where they're still pressed. "Yeah," and Blaine gives an experimental contraction of his ass, grinning where Kurt can't see it when Kurt whimpers and leans heavily into his back again.

"You ready?" Kurt asks.

Blaine falls further forward, sure to take Kurt, still deep inside him and pressed over him, down with him. Blaine's shoulders press to the mattress, ass now thrust high in the air and his face buried sideways in a pillow. His arms stretch back, up his own thighs and then to Kurt's, reaching for him and scratching his nails into his hips and trying to hold him still and there as Blaine takes a deep breath and says, "Not yet."

"Oh." Kurt hadn't expected that. Had been so sure that after three…four years of waiting and all that trust and letting Blaine in, bit by bit, having Blaine know him better than he'd even realized…not yet.

Blaine's fingers scramble, scratching at him as his ass shoves back and Kurt gasps at the friction on his cock, still hard, so sensitive, and inside him.

"No," Blaine swallows and dares himself to ask. "I want you to come again." He feels Kurt tense, body taut, breath held. "I want you to fill me up."

Kurt lets out a shuddering breath, feeling his stomach knot and his dick twitch, still oversensitive but wanting. "Blaine…"

Blaine growls, ass squeezing around Kurt's cock again. "You want this, I want you to do it properly."

He grinds back and Kurt closes his eyes to think.

"You want to lick it out of me. Fuck me again."

Kurt meets Blaine's ass this time as he grinds back, shoulders tight at the borderline pleasure-pain that boils through his blood.

"Does this work for you?" Blaine asks, voice slipping quickly, starkly, from demanding and in control to not-quite-sure.

"What?" Kurt asks, dumbfounded and his hips inching back as he considers.

Blaine's hands tighten again against his skin, holding him inside as he hisses, "Stay there."

Blaine waits for Kurt to still, to stop trying to pull back. "The talking. Like this. Does it work."

Kurt chokes out, "Yes." Blaine talking is newer than most of what they do, constantly escalating, on occasion making Kurt stop and laugh and then apologise but right now…

"A lot?"

"Hearing you say…" Kurt trails off because he doesn'ttalk, he listens and imagines the images Blaine's voice paints. "Yeah, a lot."

Blaine breathes, ass grinding again and this time Kurt groans, cock hard inside, so tight and slick and perfect.

When Blaine speaks again his voice is rough and forceful, not doubting Kurt's sincerity for a moment. "I want you to fuck me, I want you to fill me up and keep fucking me until it's dripping down my thighs. And then I want you to clean me up with that perfectly angelic mouth of yours."

Kurt shudders and the feelings are too much, the constant pressure and the images in his head but Blaine's nails pinch at his thighs and keep him there.

"Please." Blaine's voice slips lower, into a whisper as he asks. "Please. You can do that for me, can't you baby?" You can fuck me again."

Kurt whines, "Blaine." He kind of wants to pull away and kiss him senseless, just make him come and then let his mouth lead. But he knows why Blaine is asking for this. Because it's unbearably hot. So hot it's left him hard and eager and ready to fuck him all over again.

"You can fuck me hard and deep again," Blaine keeps saying. "Fill me up. Come in my ass twice without ever pulling out—god don't leave." His fingers grapple at Kurt's thighs again and Blaine's neck hurts from the angle, his ass is stretched wide and his cock is aching for attention.

Kurt pulls back and fucks into him once hard and his heart stutters, his skin on fire as he feels the change in friction. He holds there, still twinging, warring between pushing Blaine into the mattress, pulling away and looking and doing as he's told.

His cock wants it.

Blaine's breath comes out in a pant as he tries to focus again, tries to speak, willing Kurt to grab him and fuck him the way he wants it. He bites his lip and considers before he says, "I want it dripping out of me every time you fuck into me. I want it everywhere so that I'm messy and wrecked and open when you lick it off me, suck it out of me. When you fuck me one more time with your tongue and—"

His words die on his lips as the angle changes. Kurt's back up on his knees and hips angled forward so he's deeper inside, hard and stretching Blaine out further as he presses in and stills.

His fingers tap out a pattern on Blaine's hips and then still, flexing as Kurt asks, 'Are yougoing to come for me?"

Blaine arches. "Yeah," he mumbles into the pillow. "But I want to do it with your tongue in my ass." He adds, "Licking it out of me," just to be sure.

"Jesus, Blaine." And the chemicals in Kurt's blood have shifted back, made him want more than not, making the pleasure outweigh the pain, brought his cock back to fully hard inside him.

He can do this. He wantsto do this.

So he does.

He draws back, grips Blaine's hips, keeps Blaine's ass high in the air and watches his cock slide. Then pushes back in, checking how sensitive he is and how open and raw Blaine is.

Blaine's breath catches and he braces his hands in the pillow next to his head, mumbles Kurt's name.

It's slicker and they both know why. Makes Kurt's head swim and Blaine's hands tighten. He fucks himself back onto the next thrust. And the one after, as Kurt builds pace and force.

He works himself into Blaine's ass, keeping watch, tracking the visual of his cock flushed red, the skin of it pushed back and forth with the motion, blinking hard as the slickness that slides out and drips when he almost, almost, pulls all the way out. He groans and bites his lip.

It's too good and not enough because he's come once and now he feels like he could go forever. Fucking into the perfection that is Blaine's willing body. Falling forward and biting, licking up his spine and shoulders, around the back of his ears as his hips keep moving.

Blaine's whimpering, he realizes faintly, now low to the sheets, knees spread and the head of his cock hitting the cotton when Kurt fucks forward particularly hard. Whimpering in little indiscernible noises and pleas and Kurt's name.

Kurt keeps fucking him, a hand racing up under him, over his chest—slick with sweat—to catch at his nipples and wrap fleetingly around his throat, revelling in the harsh pull and push of breath. Back over his chest, resting over his heart as Kurt counts the beats in his head.

Tight. Wet. Hot. All of it where he's already spilt and it isleaking out as he fucks him harder, faster. Coating his cock and he hopes dripping down between them.

He growls as he bites hard at the tendon of Blaine's neck and then rears back up on his knees, wanting more.

Blaine just takes it, deliberately angles his hips so the push inside him twinges with enough of a stretch to distract from coming. He could drop and rut against the mattress and come in seconds. Wind a hand back or make Kurt touch him, talk to him, he could think about it and he'd come hard and fast. But he won't, he wants to last.

He could say he wants this to be all about Kurt. That his orgasm is of no consequence and that's why he's not fucking his cock through his own fist deliberately. Or indulging in the play of images, imagining what Kurt can see, what it feels like. Arching and making sure Kurt's cock flashes hot and dynamic over his prostate with every thrust.

Or he could tell the truth, which he's already done: that he wants to come with Kurt's tongue in his ass, enjoying Kurt's fantasy as much as Kurt because Jesus, fucking Christ, Kurt thought about this when they used to kiss and blush on his father's couch. And now he's doing it.

Fucking into him recklessly, working himself to panting and sweating, his stomach muscles and thighs trembling with exertion because the friction, the contact, the heat is all dimmed by having already come. And Blaine is just taking it. Willing and wrecked and waiting.

Kurt fucks in hard again and Blaine's whimper slips higher, his hands grabbing as the top of his head presses into the wood of the headboard. They've moved up the bed. He pushes back, finds inches to slide a hand between his head and the wood and dull the continuous thud, thud, thud of his skull there.

Not pain , not yet, he feels too good, but his body is coming undone, shaking and splayed, struggling to hold up as he calls Kurt's name, "Kurt," and then, "Kurt, please."

Kurt pulls him back as he fucks forward, the thrust stuttering as he bottoms out, balls slapping wetly now where the mess of come and saliva has dripped down. Over and over and then dropping down and Blaine wants to beg him to come, wants to arch and plead and whimper.

But Kurt's mouth is around an earlobe, teeth and spit and then he's murmuring, stuttering, making himself say—It's part of the fantasy—"Can't wait to taste it."

Blaine sobs, head in the pillows as he arches into it and lets himself revel in it for a moment, gives himself over and contemplates letting go and spilling hot and useless over the hotel room bed.

But then Kurt's hands grip hard, bursting blood vessels beneath the skin and staining Blaine's hips with dots of purple, pulling Blaine back onto his cock, making him moan desperately and claw at the sheets.

"Jesus, Blaine, God." Kurt grunts and keeps fucking him, just a little bit more, large hands and power coursing through his legs and arms and everything.

And Blaine feelsit. Feels that Kurt is close the same intuitive way he always does now and urges him on. "Come for me baby." Arches back, bends harder, ass in the air for Kurt to fuck into. "Come in my ass, baby. Fill me up."

Kurt is loud when he comes, a growling groan echoing around the room. Body going taut and stretched as his hands keep pulling Blaine back onto his cock, once, twice and then holding as everything shivers with too-muchness and he spills thick and deep inside Blaine's ass, raw electricity arcing through his veins and making time stop.

Holds himself there, fingers still digging in, mouth hanging open as he feels the slick, wet slide of come in Blaine's ass. Swears he can feelit.

He grits his teeth and pushes back onto his knees, still buried but staring down. He pulls out, mouth going dry as he watches the slickness dragged out with his cock.

And then he fucks back in, deep and his cock aches at the over-stimulation. But he watches the slickness of come pushed out in the motion, over his cock and around the dark red rim of Blaine's ass and down and he just wants to see.

He doesn't warn Blaine this time, doesn't ask, simply clenches his jaw and slides a hand down, thumb and forefinger around the base of his own cock as he slides out in one smooth stroke.

Blaine's hole stays open and Kurt stares, body throbbing with being turned on and sated and that innate need to own and fuck and come. Stretched and red-raw and stained with the drip of pearly white come dripping out and down.

Kurt stares as the skin tightens and shivers and contracts, The cheeks of Blaine's ass clenched as his hole closes and Kurt's hands are immediately there, splayed and pulling, thumbs brushing over the hole, making Blaine flinch.

But Kurt stretches him further, thumbs drawing him apart and open and watching as Blaine works his own ass, tight and then loose and then the same again, the obviousness of the act making Kurt wish he could come again. The slipslide of come dribbling in globs down over his perineum seductive and filthy and exactly what he wanted. But so much better.

"Do it," Blaine murmurs and Kurt thinks to slide a hand between his legs and wrap around his cock, stares hard and amazed at the sweat in the dimples of his back rippling as Blaine moans louder and wilder than ever at the contact and twists away. It's too much and Blaine's hand stays between his legs, blocking Kurt's, his ass offered but nothing else. His voice is broken and desperate and thready when he mumbles, "Lick me clean."

Kurt falls into him, the fantasy almost an afterthought. He licks once harsh up Blaine's ass, come painting his tongue too easily and the skin hot and sweat-salty beneath. He pauses, sucks around his own tongue as Blaine shivers under his hands and Kurt swallows and bites back a reckless moan.

Jesus.

His tongue works the same path, disappointment vying with satisfaction as he finds the skin his tongue passes over already less-stained. Tongues around the rim of Blaine's hole and feels the easy give of the muscle as Blaine moans again and bears back against him.

Kurt spreads him wider and slides his tongue inside, revels in the hedonistic slide of come and debauched flesh around his tongue. Fucks into him with short sharp pushes of his tongue and feels, hears, Blaine moan and then writhe, falling closer to the bed.

Pulling his face back, Kurt looks again, tries to memorise the spill of slickness, the trails it paints from hole down skin, balls and thighs. Then he licks at it. Trails the tip of his tongue up the white-wet tracks and sucks gentle marks into the soft skin of Blaine's thighs. Sucks and licks and nuzzles into the smell of sex and sweat and come and ass.

Licks every mark away while Blaine's hips press back and he whimpers through it, wanting, desperate to come but not yet. Waits for Kurt's mouth to press back to his hole, lips tight around the rim, kissing him filthily there as his tongue slides around twice and then darts inside, licks him on the inside and moans, the vibration echoing through his skin.

A finger snakes in beside his mouth, everything in Kurt thrumming with wanting more. And Blaine moans and rides it, fucks himself on a single finger and Kurt's tongue working to lick every drip of come out of him. Feel's Kurt's finger slide free and his lips press and suck, tongue flicking as he swallows and hums his pleasure.

Blaine's hands snake back, fingers into Kurt's hair, holding him there without thinking. He whines out Kurt's name, pleading and undone and ready to fall apart. "Kurt. Oh Kurt…"

He keens and Kurt pushes his tongue deep and groans, tasting himself and Blaine and then feeling the sharp squeeze of Blaine's fingers and ass as Blaine starts to come. Stretching a hand forward but too late, to curl over Blaine's fingers and work him through it, feeling the thrust of his cock through their entwined fists, hard and shuddering as Kurt keeps licking the taste out of him, fucking him on his tongue and his hand and already wanting to do it again.

And then Blaine flinches, the tight fist Kurt's keeping around his cock and the relentless press of his mouth too much and Kurt's pulling away reluctantly.

He still wants more.

And pausing there, staring at Blaine still spread but licked clean. Not so wet, no trace of come but the evidence of Kurt's work obvious. Bitten and licked and sucked red, purple bruises on his ass cheeks, the saliva already evaporating away and Blaine's ass tightening as he shudders.

Kurt edges away, back on his haunches, his hands dropping to his sides as he watches Blaine, waiting for the next move, astounded by what they're just done.

"Jesus," he whispers, his hand clenching in nothing, the sticky slickness of come and sweat and spit evident as his fingers dig into his own palm.

Blaine looks back, up on his elbows again and an eyebrow arched as he stays still and silent. Kurt can see between his legs, his hand uncurling from around his cock, the length of him dropping to hang between his legs.

Kurt wants to say something. Thank you or questions or apologies. He isn't sure.

But Blaine's kneeling up, stretching his torso out, long and lean and Kurt's eyes are sweeping down, taking him in, grinning with triumph, as though he feels like he has broken some records. And Blaine's meeting him half way across the bed, moving to within inches as Kurt shuffles forward and making Kurt chase his mouth.

Dipping and darting and drinking him in with a bright grin and bright eyes and then sitting back on his haunches.

His hand appears and he waits for Kurt to see, to realize, the come dripping there between Blaine's fingers. Then he sucks two into his mouth without hesitating. Sucks his come off his own fingers and swallows while Kurt stares and whimpers high in his throat.

Blaine licks at the pronounced drip over the back of his hand, paints his tongue with it as Kurt watches and now he doesn't swallow, just kneels there, open-mouthed, with come pooled in the dip of his tongue and challengesKurt to come and get it.

Waits, watches and then Kurt dives at him, hands up his arms, his neck, to his cheeks, holding him as his tongue darts out and laps across Blaine's, their mouths open and meeting and then Kurt's lips closing as he sucks and grins and swallows.

He groans around the taste and Blaine mimics the sound.

Then Kurt pulls back, fingers playing softly at Blaine's hairline as he wonders what to say and again, Blaine distracts him, a hand on Kurt's cheek, angling so he can lick across his chin, lapping away the dribble of come that Kurt hadn't seen.

The finishing touch and Kurt just stays there, head angled, mouth open, eyes wide. Gobsmacked and sated and happy.

"Blaine!" He still sounds scandalized and in awe. "You can't just…I can't…" He swallows and he can still taste everything.

"You are so fucking amazing," Blaine whispers, kissing him again and making a point of sucking on his own lips as he pulls back. "And you wrote it down when you were seventeen…" he says in awe.

Kurt shrugs and feels his cheeks heating which is ridiculous. He flops back onto the bed and feels all his muscles grumble their discontent. He moans a little and tries to stretch himself out. Next to him, Blaine's shifting into a similar position, stretched and debauched and grimacing as he feels his whole body ache in the aftermath.

It doesn't stop Blaine from whispering, "We should do that again."

They're both wondering what to do about the hotel bed sheets. Though neither of them really feels up to worrying about it properly, not yet. Instead they're slowly drifting towards sleep, moving silently under the covers as the cold starts to hit them, Kurt curling into Blaine's side and ignore the stickiness of sweat and god knows what. And he can't stop swallowing, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth and memorizing.

Eventually they'll get up and survey the sheets and each other and have a shower that ends with Kurt dropping to his knees under the hot spray and sucking Blaine off. Then they'll get room service and watch a movie from the bed.

But now, exhausted, Kurt just snuggles closed, arms wrapped around Blaine's waist as their breathing falls in synch.

The very last thing Kurt hears as he drifts off is Blaine mumbling into his hair, probably half-asleep himself and just thinking aloud and Kurt doesn't quite understand it until Sunday morning when Blaine pushes pen and paper and envelope towards him as they drink coffee. "Gonna make you do that again."