Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/192578.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Blaine_Anderson/Kurt_Hummel
  Character:
      Blaine_Anderson, Kurt_Hummel
  Additional Tags:
      Smut, Future_Fic
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-04-30 Words: 2740
****** YOUR INFLUENCE UPON THE BURNING, LUMINOUS BALL OF PLASMA THAT IS MY BODY
******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Kurt and Blaine have always seemed to orbit each other, whether they
     realized it or not. It just takes them ten years to do something
     about it. Originally posted January 23, 2011
Notes
     This fic was inspired by the erotic film I Want Your love. Beta'd but
     Ro and Sarah, titled by Ro.
They were supposed to go out to a club with a bunch of Blaine’s friends for
Blaine's 26th birthday. They were supposed celebrate Blaine turning into an old
man or starting his second quarter century or whatever reason they needed to
get drunk and dance like they were still in college. They were supposed to have
fun with a bunch of people around them til Kurt had to go back to New York.
Instead, they’re snowed in, alone, in Blaine’s tiny apartment in Chicago with
Lady Gaga on in the background, a kitten named Katy, and the biggest fucking
bottle of Captain Morgan money can buy.
They’re both on their third glass of rum when they start talking relationships.
They can blame it on being drunk, sure. They can pretend that they're so drunk
that they don’t know what they're saying. The truth is that four years of
college took away any intolerance either of them might have had for the drink
and it’s a conversation they should have had years ago.
“I broke up with Jack,” Kurt says. It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it.
He hates talking about relationships with Blaine, hates bringing up exes, and
hates naming names. There’s just something that hangs there whenever it comes
up, when they talk love and loss - something that suspiciously feels like their
long gone chance at romance, which neither of them realized had an expiration
date.
It’s not like they didn’t know they were attracted to each other. Kurt knows
it’s cliche, but he thinks that they just weren’t mature enough to handle the
depth of their own feelings at that point. So they moved on to simpler
relationships that were all about the sex and not about untangling the
confusing emotions that went with them.
Blaine grunts and takes another long sip of his rum. “I know.”
Of course Blaine knows. They have mutual friends, and they both fervently stalk
various social networking sites to get the latest gossip. Even if Kurt never
told him outright, Blaine probably heard about it within hours of the actual
break-up.
This doesn’t explain why Kurt deigns to explain himself, like words are
vomiting from his mouth. “He was too needy. He didn’t have an opinion of his
own. He needed to hear what I thought about everything and never once argued
with me. It was annoying.”
Blaine laughs and twists to change the song on his mp3 player. “You get a guy
who worships the ground you walk on and you don’t want him. Give me his phone
number; I have a few friends looking for nice guys.”
Kurt huffs and falls back onto the bed, knees bent and staring at the
ridiculous glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to Blaine’s ceiling. “I want a
challenge. I want someone who will fight me.”
“You never did learn that you didn’t need to scream to be heard,” Blaine says.
“I don’t scream, I project.”
They lay like that on the bed for what seems like hours, head-to-toe, staring
at the ceiling in silence. Kurt tries to find constellations in the stars above
his head, twists and turns this way and that to look at each grouping in a
different angle. He took an astronomy class as a Freshman to get his natural
science credit, and the professor made them memorize five constellations each
class. It’s seven years later, though, and both Blaine and Kurt live in cities
where the stars are hidden by light pollution and too far out of reach.
“I think I hate my boyfriend,” Blaine says suddenly. They’re halfway through
the bottle of rum; the bedroom is thick with the scent of spice and the heat
from the radiator in the corner. Katy is curled up between them, tail thumping
to the beat of the song playing in the background.
Kurt knows that things will be easier if he doesn’t ask. He knows they can keep
on doing this thing where they have unresolved issues between them but ignore
them because it’s what they’ve always done. They had their chance long ago but
blew it when they were too afraid to admit their feelings. Then they grew up,
became men with responsibilities and commitments but still remained friends,
even when no one they knew stayed friends past high school.
Then again, there’s always been something there that kept them fused together,
influencing each other. When Kurt transferred from Dalton to McKinley, so did
Blaine. When Blaine went to NYU, Kurt applied to every school in the city and
eventually settled on the same one his best friend went to.
College changed them, though. It wasn’t that they were any less close than
before; instead, they could live their lives separate from each other. Blaine
graduated and moved back to the Midwest, settling down in the Windy City to
teach. Meanwhile, Kurt stayed in New York, got an internship, and eventually
landed a generously paying job at a newly in print fashion magazine. They still
Skyped every week, even if they were busy as hell.
So instead of heeding his own mental warnings as they flit through his head,
Kurt asks, “Why?”
Blaine shifts on the bed so that he’s leaning on his elbows and looking through
the gap between Kurt’s knees to see his face. He says, “He isn’t you.”
Kurt reaches up and runs his hand over his face, wishing he could erase the
last two sentences spoken in the room because there it is, out in the open.
Those three words have haunted them for a decade and turned what should have
been perfect relationships into disastrous blips on the radar of their personal
histories. There’s absolutely no turning back; anything said from there on out
will define their friendship for the rest of their lives.
Yet Kurt isn’t going to go down without a fight. If he doesn’t answer, if he
doesn’t acknowledge that he heard Blaine admit that he measures all of his
relationships on the one they never had, then maybe they can continue doing
what they’ve always done: ignore the really fucking huge and fabulously pink
elephant in the room.
When he doesn’t answer, Blaine says, “Kurt. Kurt, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“Yes, you did,” Kurt says, cutting off Blaine’s painful backtracking. “You did
mean it because it’s the same for me. Jack wasn’t you. Neither was Ben or James
or Jorge. We’ve spent a third of our lives comparing our lovers to each other
and it just isn’t fair - to them and especially to us.”
He sits up, disturbing Katy from her place between them. She flicks her tail
angrily, jumps off of the bed, and scampers into the kitchen. The place where
she vacated is warm, and Kurt places his hand there to feel the phantom body
heat. Now he really is all alone with Blaine.
Blaine places his hand on Kurt’s, brushes the soft skin with a callused finger.
“Kurt, why did we never date in high school?”
“It was never the right time,” Kurt says. “We weren’t the right people back
then. We had a lot of growing up to do and then by the time we did, our chance
to be something more had already passed.”
There’s a beat of silence and then, “Do you believe in second chances?”
That’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it? The question that can make or break
them, influence who they are and fully define who they’ve been. Kurt holds all
the power over their relationship in that moment. He can say no and take a
chance at losing the closest person in his life besides his father. He can say
yes and let himself have the one thing he’s craved for ten years, the one thing
he’s never felt he’s deserved, the one thing he’s afraid he’ll destroy once he
gets it.
So Kurt leans forward, forehead resting against forehead, and makes a decision.
His heart skips a beat as he says, “Yes,” and it’s so easy , so natural that he
knows it’s the right thing to say.
Blaine smiles brighter than Kurt has seen him smile in a long time. His eyes
crinkle at the corners and his teeth seem to take up half of his face. When a
nervous laugh echoes over the music playing in the background, Kurt realizes
he’s smiling as well.
Their first kiss is what Kurt’s first kiss should have been ten years ago. It’s
perfect and cathartic, like he’s been holding his breath for so long and now
he’s finally allowed to let go.
“I’ve wanted to do that for ten years,” Blaine says against his lips when they
pull back. “I’m so glad you didn’t say no. I don’t think I could have handled
it.”
They fall onto the mattress and kiss again, legs tangling together and arms
wrapped around like they’ll never let go. Kurt laughs because it feels like a
dam has been opened, a nervousness that he could never pinpoint exactly. Maybe
he still feared rejection after ten years. Maybe he was afraid of things not
living up to his expectations. Kurt knows that things with Blaine will never be
perfect, but it’s still Blaine, still the man who defined who he was for ten
years.
“I love you,” Blaine says after they kiss for a while longer. Kurt wishes he
could make a living just mapping out Blaine’s body. He’d start with his mouth,
intimately detailing every kiss, every sound, and every nuance hidden within.
“I always have.”
“I know.”
Kurt pushes himself up from the bed and swings a leg over to straddle Blaine’s
hips. He never figured he’d be the one to do the leading. Whenever he thought
about if they ever got together, his head would always fall back in that
sixteen year-old’s body, waiting for Blaine to lead him.
Hovering over Blaine’s body feels right, though. The punctuated moans and gasps
that he tears from Blaine with every bite and suck at his jaw, his neck, makes
pleasure thrum throughout Kurt’s body. He’s more receptive than Kurt ever
thought he’d be. Even at twenty-five- twenty-six, isn’t that weird? - Blaine is
still a very restrained man, not prone to letting himself relax in front of
anyone.
When the heat of the room and the heat of their bodies becomes too much, Kurt
pulls his sweater up over his head and drops it to the floor. Blaine struggles
with his t-shirt and groans in impatience when his pants get caught around his
calves. When he tries to kick them off of his legs, he manages to up-end a
stack of books and they topple to the ground. Kurt leans against Blaine’s chest
as they laugh together.
Soon, laughing turns to kissing and petting and whispering, “I want you,” and,
“I need you.”
Kurt fits between the V of Blaine’s legs like they were molded especially for
him. They kiss and rock together. It's not enough pressure to truly get off,
but it's enough to feel good, so good. He could wish that the moment had been
different, that it had come earlier - way earlier - than when Kurt’s twenty-
five and Blaine’s twenty-six, but he doesn’t. There’s something comforting
about this moment, despite the imperfections. It’s like a sigh of relief; like
waiting and waiting and waiting for good news, and when it finally arrives, you
wonder why you were worried in the first place.
Blaine’s fingers stroke up and down Kurt’s back like he’s moving them over the
frets of his guitar. When Kurt sucks at his jaw, lips scratched by the spot he
missed shaving, Blaine’s fingers move lower, lower, closer to the waist of his
jeans.
“Can I?”
“Yeah.”
Fingers inch slowly under the waistband of Kurt’s briefs, making him shiver in
anticipation. Blaine’s nails scratch lightly before they move further down his
body. One hand spreads his cheeks apart and the other seeks out the tight ring
of muscle and nerves, stroking and teasing. Kurt rocks forward, hips pressing
as hard as they can into Blaine’s.
“Ow, Kurt,” Blaine hisses, fingers scrabbling at Kurt’s hips to push him off.
“Your button-”
“Sorry, sorry,” Kurt says. He kneels, stands, and works at the fly of his
jeans. “I’ll just....”
“Let me help.” Blaine tugs at the pants, peeling them down his legs. Even after
a decade of changes in fashion trends, Kurt still wears sinfully tight jeans
when the occasion calls for it. He uses Blaine’s shoulders to balance and steps
out of the jeans finally, giggling like he hasn’t in a long time when he nearly
falls off the bed.
They fall together once again, the position of tangling up with one another so,
so familiar. Kurt curls into Blaine’s side and reaches his hand low to touch
Blaine, hold him tightly his his hand to elicit moans and strings of expletives
with no meaning. Watching Blaine’s face tense and relax when Kurt changes his
grip on him is the most amazing thing he’s ever experienced.
“Kurt,” Blaine whimpers. “I want you.”
“I want you, too,” Kurt whispers back, breath hot against Blaine’s neck.
Blaine rolls off of the bed in search of lube and a condom. Kurt pulls his
briefs off and stretches out on the bed as he waits. He watches Blaine shift
through some boxes on his bookshelf, looking for a condom even as he awkwardly
tries to get his underwear down with one hand. The scene is so weird that Kurt
can’t help but laugh.
“You look ridiculous hopping around like that,” Kurt says. “I’m not going
anywhere, so slow down.”
Blaine looks over his shoulder, a rare blush gracing his skin. His underwear is
pulled down below his ass, and it’s such a cute image that Kurt wants to
snuggle Blaine and never let him go. He holds his hand out and says, “Come
here.”
With a condom in his hand, finally, and lube waiting for them on the
nightstand, Blaine falls into Kurt's arms. Kurt helps him out of his briefs and
flips their position so that Blaine is the one straddling and Kurt is laid out,
waiting. He takes his time taking in Blaine’s body, all of it - from where he’s
gone soft around the edges from age to the hardness that grazes Kurt’s stomach.
Kurt says, “You’re so beautiful,” and Blaine leans down to capture his lips
once again. With Blaine bent over, Kurt takes his time preparing him, opening
Blaine up. Once they’re ready, once Blaine is begging for more and Kurt’s
wearing a condom, Blaine guides Kurt against him and in him.
His back arches from the overwhelming sensation of Blaine on him, around him,
making him feel whole. Above Kurt, Blaine pants and squirms, trying to find the
most comfortable position. Kurt whispers, “Blaine.”
“Kurt.”
They hold each other, move together, whisper sweet things in each others ears.
Blaine tells him of all his secret fantasies, a decade worth of dirty thoughts
he’s had about Kurt. The words make Kurt feel like he’s burning from the inside
out and the only thing that’s keeping him from bursting into flames completely
is Blaine.
He jerks Blaine in time with the movement of their hips. Their rum-scented
pants mingle between them, and the radiator exaggerates the sweat dripping down
their brows. Kurt isn’t going to last long and isn’t that embarrassing. He
figures that it’s just as well because Blaine always did make him feel like a
teenager again.
“C’mon, Kurt,” Blaine says, and Kurt knows, right then, that Blaine is as close
as he is. It may seem strange to anyone who cares enough to listen, but the two
of them have always been in sync. From the moment they'd met, they’d affected
each other’s gravity whether it was intentional or not, whether it was positive
or not.
As they both come together for the first time, Kurt remembers each time someone
approached him about Blaine. If it wasn’t, “Are you two dating?” it was “You
two would be perfect together.” Those people were right; it just took them ten
years to listen.
They slump together, bone-tired but so, so happy. He feels silly because
there’s cum on his stomach and he’s still wearing a condom, but Blaine is
smiling down on him like there’s nothing weird about it. Maybe there isn’t.
Kurt says, “I love you,” and then Blaine says, “I know.”
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