Warnings: (Slight) future!Fic
Word Count: 807
Summary: Sometimes, Kurt makes him feel like a nervous sixteen year old again, with shaking hands and a shaking voice.
Also posted here on gleefic.com
Blaine spreads his hand over the pale skin. Calloused fingers trace over the twirling black lines, pressing down and invisibly copying the shape.
“What do you think?” Kurt asks, tilting his shoulder forward, pressing it into Blaine's hand, arching his neck so he can see it. He still looks a little surprised, like he expects it to be gone every time he risks a glance.
“The heart is pure theatre,” Blaine reads aloud. His finger drags at it traces the t of theatre. “I like it. Very you.”
“Theatricality.” Kurt's voice is a murmur, like he's remembering something and he laughs under his breath. “I'm still jealous of Rachel's dress. The one Shelby made.” Blaine doesn't know what he's talking about. He bends his head to press a kiss to the h of heart, to trace the e-a-r-t with his tongue.
Kurt exhales loudly, arching forwards into the kiss before pulling away.
He's still murmuring as he speaks. “Don't.” A hand strokes at Blaine's hair, tugging occasionally when fingers tangle in curls. “You're not supposed to. Germs or something. Infection.” He picks up his shirt, frowning when he sees the creases. Two years, and Blaine still hasn't learned to treat his clothes with some form of respect.
“You should get a nipple piercing next.” Blaine's laughing as his thumb brushes over a nipple.
“I think not.” Kurt gives him that look – the one that tells Blaine he's being a little absurd, even though part of him wants to agree. It's an arched eyebrow and a slightly crooked smile that reaches his eyes. Kurt has many faces, and Blaine likes to think he knows all of them. He drags his nail over the nipple. There's another one of Kurt's faces. This time, it's teeth toying with his bottom lip and a hooded stare.
“It'd look hot.” He presses a kiss to Kurt's sternum. “Sexy, even.” Another kiss, slightly higher up this time. “Gorgeous.” On his throat now, and Blaine nips a bit. The shirt is forgotten, and falls to the floor again. “You.” Kurt's jaw, and more light nips.
“What about you?” Kurt loops a hand around the back of Blaine's neck. The fingers tap against the skin, telling Blaine to move, to kiss him. He does as told.
It's a slow kiss, languid and lazy and brings back memories of Sunday mornings in summer. It brings back memories of birdsong and flowers and falling asleep in the grass. It brings back memories of rubbing in after sun, because they didn't wake up. It's comforting, and full of love, but no better than any other of their kisses. Just different.
“It would suit you better,” Blaine says when they pull apart. They're too closer together, and it's hard to look into eyes like that. He focuses on a light, almost invisible freckle on Kurt's cheek. “You're edgy. You're cool.”
“You could be edgy,” Kurt replies. He's pulling at Blaine's shirt, trying to edge it slowly up his chest. Blaine waits for him, moves his arms upwards when it gets high enough and helps pull his head through so it doesn't get caught and ruin the moment.
He kind of thinks it wouldn't ruin it, not really. They've had enough silly moments, enough should-have-been-embarrassing moments. It's not a problem any more. They smile and laugh and move right along.
Sometimes, Kurt makes him feel like a nervous sixteen year old again, with shaking hands and a shaking voice.
Kurt presses him towards the bed – their bed - and they fall together. They breathe heavily together and pull Kurt out of his stupidly tight jeans. Blaine's are easy; nobody wonders if they're going to have to find out a pair of scissors.
They move together, gasp together, breathe for each other and smile into kisses. It's familiar, but not boring. It's beautiful and sometimes they laugh. Kurt has to push Blaine away from his shoulder more than few times, has to give him another look to tell him to shut up about piercings, at least for now.
It's fast and somehow slow. It makes them burn and makes them shiver. They cling to each other, the way they had the first time. It feels like an aeon has passed since then. They can barely remember the nerves, the feeling of not knowing your way around someone's body. They haven't forgotten the surge, the feel of discovering all the right places. They choose to remember certain things. They choose to keep on learning.
Afterwards, they curl together. Nobody needs to say anything to arrange limbs. They talk through touches, through gestures with a lazy hand mid-air. As they roll together, edging too close to sleep, Blaine chooses to talk.
“I still think it'd be hot.” Kurt says nothing. He smiles, and lets his hand catch in wild curls and falls asleep.