Kurt/Blaine: Better Late Than Never (NC-17)
Title: Better Late Than Never
Pairing: Klaine
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,530
Spoilers: None
Prompt: Five years in the future, AU where the boys have always been friends, but never romantic. On a night out, one gets hit on, causing the other to realize their true feelings after all this time.
A/N: This was originally posted anonymously at the A Part of Something Special Tumblr. Now I'm posting it here!
Heaven.
Blaine finishes off his drink and turns to set it on the bar. Kurt is standing beside him, both elbows resting on the bar as he faces the crowd with a little smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It’s a smile Blaine knows well. It signifies that Kurt has a plan, and he does. They both do, actually.
They’ve been coming to this club fairly regularly since they turned twenty-one but neither has ever gotten up the nerve to actually glean a hook-up from the occasion. So that is exactly what they’re both setting out to do.
“See anyone you like?” Blaine asks.
“Of course,” Kurt replies with a smile, wetting his lips and nodding in the direction of a tall guy with dark hair wearing a pair of jeans. And nothing else. “He’s not bad.”
“Not bad?” Blaine laughs, shaking his head and drinking in the guy’s chiseled abs. “That’s putting it pretty lightly, don’t you think?”
“I’ve seen better,” Kurt replies passively, looking at Blaine out of the corner of his eye before draining the rest of his martini.
“Yeah, on a runway, maybe.” Blaine looks down at himself with his snug charcoal gray polo and favorite jeans that he had thought made his ass look pretty spectacular, and suddenly feels incredibly average. More so than he usually does.
Kurt, on the other hand, looks fantastic. As per usual. Dressed from head to toe in all black, he looks long, lean, and fit in a way that Blaine can just never seem to pull off. The way Kurt’s short sleeved button-up is left open for at least two more buttons than Blaine would ever dare to leave undone and his pants look like they were pretty much painted on has drawn in the attention of several men as they walk by. As per usual.
“Not on a runway,” Kurt says, setting his drink on the bar before extending a hand to Blaine. “It’s time to dance, don’t you think?”
Blaine grins and takes Kurt’s hand, feeling the room give a pretty significant swirl around him as they start to move. They’d both had three martinis at the bar, trying to burn a little liquid confidence into their chests before making an actual go at their plan.
Ever since they first met back on those stairs at Dalton Academy, Kurt has been Blaine’s best friend. His confidant. The person who knows and understands him better than anyone else in the entire world. They’d come to New York together, gotten an apartment together, went through the joys and the tribulations of college at each other’s sides. But neither of them has done much dating. Little relationships here or there, but at the end of the day, they both laugh and say that they’re just too picky for their own good. Blaine can never quite manage to find anyone who lives up to his expectations, nor can he define exactly what those expectations are.
So here they are, two more bodies in the mass of limbs and mouths and sweat on the dance floor, both of them trying to break out of their self-imposed slumps. Both of them hoping to get laid.
It takes less than a minute before someone’s approaching Kurt. This isn’t new. It happens every time they go out and someone always approaches Blaine, too. But usually, they both politely decline, nervously laughing off the attention and sticking close to each other’s sides. Not tonight, though.
The guy is good-looking. Nothing particularly special in Blaine’s opinion, but hot enough. Apparently Kurt agrees. He quirks an eyebrow at Blaine before allowing himself to be pulled a few feet away in the crowd, leaving Blaine alone. Deciding to go get another drink instead of standing there awkwardly by himself, Blaine turns in the direction of the bar and only stumbles slightly over his own feet in the process. The last thing he really needs is another cocktail, but now he’s alone and feeling slightly uncomfortable and what else does he have to do?
As soon as he has a gin and tonic in hand, he turns and again surveys the crowd. There are guys everywhere, pressing against each other, kissing, dancing, laughing, losing themselves in the beat and the feeling. Blaine looks to see if there’s anyone else alone, someone he might want to go approach to see if they want to dance, but that’s when he again spots Kurt. Not that it’s particularly hard to do.
Kurt and the guy have made their way to the edge of the crowd, their bodies so close they could be mistaken for one person as they rock together to the beat. Their mouths are moving frantically, the sight of their tongues sliding together clearly visible even through the hazy, dimly lit distance. The guy’s hands trail down Kurt’s back before settling in on his ass, grabbing hard and yanking him closer, taking the friction he needs rather than waiting for it. Blaine turns his back on them.
His face is numb from the alcohol, but his stomach is tight, his pulse racing, his hands clenching into fists. Licks of boiling hot rage burn like fire through his chest and he can feel his teeth grinding together. The breaths that had only moments ago been coming short due to the exertion of dancing are now deeper, heavier, more ragged, like they’re clawing their way into his chest and then right back out again.
By the time he realizes what’s happening, his entire drink is gone and he’s already on his way over. It’s as if his feet are moving all on their own without any neural guidance from him whatsoever. A hand is clamping onto the guy’s shoulder and Blaine is only vaguely aware that it’s his own.
“What?” the guy asks, a noticeable bite to his voice.
“I…” Blaine trails off, looking not at him, but at Kurt. Kurt, who’s lips are red and swollen from being kissed. Kurt, who is breathless from the grinding and the dancing. Kurt, who’s cheeks are flushed from arousal and intoxication. Kurt.
What in the hell is Blaine doing? Why is he interrupting them?
“Blaine? What do you want?” Kurt asks.
“I’m so sorry,” Blaine says, backing away before turning and sprinting from the club. He collides hard with several people, shouting out apologies to their swearing and stumbling forms as he tears past. It isn’t until he’s outside that he stops, leaning against the cool brick wall and heaving lungs full of the cold night air.
What in the hell had just happened? Why had he interrupted Kurt doing precisely what they’d set out to do? It wasn’t like Kurt had looked like he wasn’t enjoying it or anything. Quite the contrary.
So what had made him go over there? There was unintentional cockblocking and then there was this. Blaine knows that what he just did is pretty much unforgivable, especially since he had no good reason to have broken them up in the middle of what would be considered by most to be foreplay.
“Blaine, what’s going on with you?” Kurt asks, appearing to his left with a look of concern on his face. Blaine presses his lips together tightly as he looks at Kurt. He look positively debauched, like he’d just pulled himself out of the bedroom instead of off the dance floor. An ache spreads itself through Blaine’s chest, originating in his heart and sending hurt and confusion out in throbbing waves.
“I don’t know,” he admits, rubbing a hand hard across his forehead. “I honestly don’t know. I’m so sorry, Kurt. Did he… is he gone?”
“Yes, he’s gone,” Kurt replies and Blaine waits for the bitchy retaliating barb to come. It doesn’t. “Did he look like a creep or a pervert or something? Is that you why interrupted us?”
“No, he looked hot,” Blaine sighs, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and letting his head thunk back against the brick. It collides with a dull thud that he knows will probably hurt like hell in the morning.
“Then why?” Kurt prods.
“God damn it, Kurt, I don’t know, okay?”
“No, not okay. We came out here tonight to find guys to hook up with since we never do that. I found a guy and you came up and interrupted in the middle of us making out. That is in no way okay,” Kurt tells Blaine and Blaine knows it’s all true. Kurt doesn’t sound angry, though. Not really.
“You were going to chicken out,” Blaine says, finally dropping his hands from his eyes.
“No, I wasn’t. I was going to fuck his brains out in the bathroom.” A surge of angry heat flushes throughout Blaine’s body, leaving him clenching his hands and digging his toes into the bottoms of his shoes.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” Kurt asks, the even tone from his voice gone. He’s exasperated, sounding like he’s two seconds away from beating the life out of Blaine. Blaine’s mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out because he doesn’t know what to say. There’s no good reason why he’s feeling this way—angry, frustrated, interrupty—but he is.
And then it hits him.
He’s jealous.
“Because I don’t want you to,” he finally admits softly, the words barely making their way from between his lips before he’s pressing a hand to them, trying to keep himself from saying anything else. He’s jealous? Of a guy kissing Kurt?
“I’ve been with other guys before, Blaine. So have you.”
“I know,” he responds after too long a pause, when he knows that he has to or Kurt will start to get even more suspicious and questioning than he already is.
“The only difference is that before it’s been guys that we’ve been dating. Is that what’s bothering you? That it was going to be a hook-up?” Kurt asks. Blaine groans and brings his head forward an inch only to let it drop back against the wall again. Now that he thinks about it, he’d been jealous of them, too—all of Kurt’s former dates. Jealous that they’d taken Kurt away from him, time they could’ve been spending together.
“No,” Blaine says honestly, but it isn’t the whole truth. Everything else spewing from his mouth is a lie. “I don’t know what it is. Honestly, I don’t.”
“What if I do?” Kurt asks. Blaine furrows his eyebrows, giving Kurt his best drunken attempt at a look of confusion and barely has time to breathe before Kurt’s lips are on his. They’re there and then not, the kiss so short Blaine doesn’t have the time to memorize the feel of Kurt’s lips against his or discover what he tastes like or to really register anything other than the ‘Whoa’ of it all.
“Why did you do that?” Blaine asks, his voice embarrassingly breathy, his hands reaching out for Kurt, pulling at his shirt until Kurt is right in front of him. It was a terrible tease, kissing him like that, and Blaine needs more right now. But he can’t have more because Kurt isn’t his to kiss.
“Because you wanted to, but you’re too much of an idiot to figure it out on your own,” Kurt smiles, trailing a hand down Blaine’s cheek. His breath catches in his throat
“What?” Blaine asks dumbly, his eyes opening wide. Is Kurt saying what he thinks he’s saying?
“Why do you think we never have relationships that stick? Why we never have one-night stands? It’s not because we aren’t attractive and it’s definitely not because we aren’t horny,” Kurt says with a little laugh. “It’s because what we really want is to be with each other. Or at least, that’s how I feel.”
“How long have you felt this way?” Blaine asks, fisting his hands in Kurt’s shirt and pulling him in until their foreheads are pressed together.
“Since the day I stopped you on the stairs.” Blaine moans in frustration and tightens his grip. “I tried to tell you so many times, Blaine, but I just never got the impression that you were interested in as anything other than friends. Until I really sat down and thought about it recently, that is.”
“So why did you go along with my idea to do this tonight?” Blaine asks.
“Because I had an idea of my own,” Kurt grins. “The guy who came up to me is a friend from work.”
“You planned that?” Blaine asks, his eyes wide.
“Down to the timing of the ass-grabbing,” Kurt laughs, “I was hoping that it would finally get your attention. I think it worked.”
“Oh god,” Blaine groans, smoothing his hands over Kurt’s hips, touching them in a way he never has before. “It totally worked.”
“Really?” Kurt asks, sliding one hand around Blaine’s neck and holding him there. Kurt’s too close. He smells too good and his body is too warm and Blaine thinks that if he doesn’t get some distance in the next few seconds he’s probably going to die. “What are you thinking?”
“Whenever I dated someone else, it just never felt right. They were never good enough singers or they didn’t dress well enough or they had terrible manners or they couldn’t cook or they couldn’t make me laugh or smile or feel comfortable the way that I feel with you. Ever since I’ve met you, I have compared every guy to you. Fuck.”
“Why fuck?”
“Because what in the hell have I been doing? Why haven’t I seen this?” Blaine rants, taking a few steps away.
“Because sometimes it’s hard to see what’s right in front of you,” Kurt says, following him and reaching out for a hand that Blaine quickly pulls away.
“You saw, though. You saw and you never said anything! Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I was afraid,” Kurt says, stepping in close. “I was so scared of losing you completely that I settled for having you however I could get you. Having you as a friend has been wonderful, Blaine. But it isn’t all I want. Not really.”
“It isn’t all that I want either,” Blaine says, now allowing Kurt to hold his hand. Their fingers lock together so tightly it hurts, but in a way it feels good. It’s grounding considering how drunk both of them are, like it’s reminding them that this is really happening. “I’ve loved you for years, Kurt. You know that. I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize how I loved you.”
“Better late than never,” Kurt tells him with a smile, dipping his head to press his lips against Blaine’s. Their lips barely brush together before Blaine is sliding his fingers into Kurt’s hair, pulling his face closer, trailing his tongue across Kurt’s lips. A throaty moan rumbles through Kurt’s chest and he pulls away. “Not here.”
The cab ride back to their apartment couldn’t take more than fifteen minutes, but it feels like an eternity. Blaine is trying to keep himself under control, but he loses the battle with his will two minutes into the journey, again claiming Kurt’s mouth with his own and surely giving the cabbie quite a show. By the time they get back to their apartment, Blaine is fully hard, his cock trapped awkwardly in his boxer briefs.
Without a word, they decide to go into Kurt’s bedroom and when Kurt moves to pull off his shirt, Blaine grabs his hands and stops him.
“I want to do it,” he says, his voice quavering lightly. With mostly steady hands, Blaine pulls Kurt’s shirt from his pants and slowly starts to unbutton it. “You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. I’ve always thought so since the first moment I saw you. I marvel at you all the time, wondering how it can be possible for someone to be so fucking gorgeous every day and be so wonderful to boot.” By the time he finishes speaking, Kurt’s shirt is fully unbuttoned. Blaine pushes the sides open, immediately leaning in to drag the flat of his tongue across Kurt’s nipple, because he’s his best friend and has heard on more than one occasion just how much Kurt likes that.
“God, Blaine,” Kurt says, a smile evident in his voice as he threads his fingers into Blaine’s hair. “That feels so good.”
“I can make you feel even better,” Blaine tells him, finally pushing Kurt’s shirt from his shoulders and getting to immediate work on his pants.
They’ve seen each other shirtless or in underwear countless times, but Blaine has neverseen Kurt’s cock. His mouth starts to water in anticipation as he struggles Kurt’s boots and jeans off, then dragging his hands in broad, heavy strokes up the fronts of Kurt’s legs. The hair they trail over is soft and sexy and Blaine presses several kisses to the fronts of Kurt’s thighs before quickly pulling down his bright red briefs. Kurt’s cock is hard and immediately springs up toward his stomach, perfect and long and honestly, what has Blaine been thinking all this time? A real life Adonis is standing in front of him, so why has he been keeping this person in the friend zone for so long?
He licks up the underside of Kurt’s cock before taking it in his hand and sucking just the tip into his mouth. With a very methodical spiral pattern, Blaine licks over the head, collecting precome on his tongue and moaning at the taste.
“You taste amazing,” Blaine gasps as he pulls off, trying to immediately go back down but finding himself being pulled into a standing position.
“And you are wearing too many clothes,” Kurt says, yanking Blaine’s shirt over his head and immediately reaching out to touch his chest, ribs, stomach, finally landing on the aching cock in Blaine’s jeans. With a little quick hopping motion, Blaine kicks off his shoes and socks and shoves his jeans down his legs. “You’re incredible. I mean, I know that I’ve seen you like this before, but god Blaine.”
Kurt’s words embolden him and Blaine pushes his boxer briefs to the floor stepping out of them and moving in close to kiss Kurt again. It’s been far too long since their lips touched—horrible, horrible minutes—and to make matters even better, the sudden closeness brings their cocks together.
“Wow,” Blaine breathes out, rolling his hips in to get better friction.
“Bed,” Kurt says against Blaine’s lips. They collapse onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, constantly arching and thrusting against one another just trying to find the right position that will take it from good to perfect.
“I want you to fuck me,” Blaine moans as Kurt rolls on top of him, sliding between his legs and putting himself at just the right angle to slide the hot hard length of his cock against Blaine’s with every thrust.
“No time. I’m already close,” Kurt says, leaning down to kiss Blaine, their mouths open and tongues twisting together as their hips work both of them into a sweaty, moaning mess.
It should feel strange, being intimate like this with someone he’s never before so much as kissed anywhere other than on the cheek, but it doesn’t. It’s Kurt. His best friend. His everything. Someone who should have been more to him for so long now.
There will be things to work out, conversations to have when they’ve sobered up both from their drunks and from the delirious highs of their orgasms, but for now there’s nothing keeping them apart but air and sweat and moaned exhalations of each other’s names.
Each time the head of Kurt’s cock rubs over his own, Blaine’s hips surge, tension building in his balls and heat spreading all throughout his stomach. Kurt’s mouth is open against his neck, breathing hot puffs of air against Blaine’s dampened skin. Blaine’s body is worthless for anything other rolling his hips and holding onto Kurt’s strong arms, feeling the muscles there flexing as Kurt works his hips with newfound abandon.
“Shit,” Blaine chokes out as his orgasm slams into him, his entire body going stiff as he shoots streak after streak of come onto his stomach, onto Kurt’s, onto their cocks. Kurt moans and keeps going, moving his cock just to the right of Blaine’s and sliding it through the slippery wetness of Blaine’s come until he too stills, clutching onto the duvet and holding his breath before collapsing.
“Oh my god,” Kurt mumbles against Blaine’s chest. Blaine grins and smoothes a hand over Kurt’s hair. “We should’ve done that a long time ago.”
“We have so much lost time to make up for,” Blaine agrees.
“No better time than the present to get started.”
“I like the way you think,” Blaine says, kissing Kurt’s forehead as it passes while he shifts up to press his lips against Blaine’s. “Then again, I always have.”
“Just shut up and kiss me. You owe me for making me wait so long,” Kurt grins.
“I so do.”