@receivedhope I hope you don't mind, but your Kurt shirt slit art inspired me.
This was supposed to be smut but quickly devolved into brief character study because I can never stop myself. Oh, well. (Please be gentle, I wrote this too quickly and it's my first time writing in 3rd person in YEARS)
Read it under the cut, or here on AO3.
It’s extraordinarily hard to focus on history homework like this, with Kurt sitting on his bed so close, breathing mere inches away. And maybe that wouldn’t be so much of a problem if not for the slit in his shirt, apparently part of the design, a clean cut right over his heart, exposing milk-white skin with every inhale. In and out. In and out. It teases and tortures. Shows off a scrap of what Blaine hasn’t seen or touched enough of yet, what he craves more of. That craving returns tenfold. There’s simply no way he can get anything done. So, he sets his notebook aside and reaches out, lets his fingertips graze the small window of opportunity.
“Can I touch you here?”
Kurt glances over, eyes widened. But he doesn’t shrink away. In fact, he’s already setting down the notes he’d been working on. He shifts closer on the bed to give Blaine’s hand easier access. He even bites his lip.
“Yeah.”
Blaine’s not entirely sure what he’ll do or what the plan is, but that’s not going to stop him now. He slips his fingers into the opening in the fabric and is instantly greeted by the warmth of Kurt’s chest. Kurt sucks in a shaky breath. Blaine can feel his heart pulsing wildly beneath his finger. It sends a thrill through his own, at Kurt’s reaction, at the knowledge that he can jumpstart his heart like this with a single touch. The small part of Kurt’s chest he can feel is smooth and firm. He dares to explore. He pushes his hand further into the slit, up a little, tracing the fine bone of Kurt’s clavicle poking out from beneath his skin, keen and even. He traces it back and forth and back and forth with his fingers. It’s soothing, almost, like petting a cat.
He hopes for more. He wonders how much of his hand he can fit inside this slit. How far he could get. What Kurt would let him touch just from here. Would he take off his shirt again so Blaine could see as well as touch?
He dips his fingers downwards, slides in his middle and ring finger. Further, further. Until he finds something more tempting—the soft nub of Kurt’s nipple. He traces the shape of it with his fingertips, imagining what it looks like from the last time he saw it: just a few weeks ago, Kurt with his shirt off, with everything off, here in his bedroom for the first time.
It was all Blaine had wanted for so long that he’s now pissed at himself for moving faster than he should have. He regrets not taking the time to drink everything in. To attend to and indulge in Kurt’s body, in the way his eyes flutter shut now as Blaine presses his nipple between two eager fingers. How he wishes those were his lips instead. He longs to taste. To feel this part of Kurt, always shielded under layers, soft and tender on his tongue. To bite, even. Softly, like on a berry. What might Kurt’s reaction be? Blaine didn’t try it last time. But now? He traces the nub in circles, paying attention.
Kurt leans closer, fingertips unexpectedly wrapping around Blaine’s wrist, pulling him in further. Kurt wants this. The heat pooling in Blaine’s body ignites in response. He suddenly wants so much, wants everything, to do more than what they did the first time, to take all the time in the world to learn Kurt’s body, to master the art of his pleasure. He wants to map every inch of his skin with his hands, his tongue, to memorize each ridge and crevice that lie hidden, to find the places and motions that make Kurt rock forward like this, that draw sudden gasps and moans from deep in his throat. He needs all of it right now. The scale and shape of that need suddenly overwhelms him. His mouth releases a little noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper.
Kurt’s eyes snap open. Shit. Embarrassment streaks through Blaine’s core, a third degree burn. He’s never made that sound around another person before. It sounds strange to his own ears, a betrayal of control. And in front of Kurt, who’s looking at him now with unblinking, critical eyes and a expression he can’t name. Blaine can only guess it’s bad. The swelling desire from before instantly morphs into something too unshapely and unstable to hold. He yanks his hand out of the shirt slit and nearly runs to lock himself in the bathroom and cry. What the hell is wrong with him?
“Blaine?”
He crosses his arms and keeps his eyes on the navy comforter beneath them.
“Yeah?”
“Why’d you stop?”
“Sorry.”
“Is something wrong?”
He takes a breath. What is he supposed to say?
“I… made a weird sound.”
An awful moment of silence. Then, Kurt laughs softly. It only makes him feel worse. Is Kurt making fun of him? He can’t believe he just did something so pathetic.
“It wasn’t a weird sound.”
Blaine has to look back up to see his face because he needs to know if he means it. Kurt’s smiling, eyes bright. Pupils dilated. Blaine notices the red flush that’s creeping up his neck and when Kurt takes a deep breath as the slit opens and expands to reveal red-speckled skin. Blaine wonders how he made that happen. If he can make it happen again.
So Kurt isn’t making fun of him?
“It sounded weird to me.” He doesn’t know what else to say.
He tries again.
“I didn’t… I don’t…” But his brain isn’t giving him any useful words.
Kurt hums, glances away with a look Blaine recognizes a split second too late as insecurity.
“Look at me with my inflated ego. I thought it meant you liked touching me that way. Sorry, I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”
Guilt makes his stomach drop. He almost slips his fingers back in, wants to make Kurt’s eyes flutter and his body lean forward, relaxed and eager again.
“No, it wasn’t that. I liked it. I really like it. I guess…”
He puts his hands over his face because he isn’t sure what else to do with them now. And the embarrassment’s back, suffocating. He can’t look at Kurt like this or let Kurt see him like this.
“I don’t know. I know I acted like I knew everything about sex and intimacy, but I’m still not really used to it yet. It’s not your fault—you’re amazing, Kurt. You’re like everything I’ve ever dreamed about—”
“Careful now, don’t want to go inflating my ego too much again.”
“—so, I guess I’m kind of self-conscious around you. I want to be everything you dream of.”
Gentle but firm fingers press onto his knuckles. Blaine lets Kurt take his hands in his and pull them away from his face. And there’s Kurt, smiling and a little glassy-eyed.
“You are everything I’ve dreamed of, Blaine. Seriously. And I get self-conscious around you, too. We’re both still figuring this thing out. It’s not like we’re both going to be magically perfect at sex immediately. Unfortunately.”
“You’re pretty great at it though,” Blaine has to counter.
Kurt smirks and squeezes his hand.
“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”
Warmth blooms in his chest at the name. He hopes Kurt will call him that again.
“Now who’s inflating whose ego?”
“I think you needed the boost. You had kind of a rough day, didn’t you?”
He’s surprised that Kurt has read him already. He’s still not used to it, the way Kurt pounces on feelings before Blaine’s even named them for himself.
“I did. How did you know?”
“I was there when you tried to fight Sam.”
“Oh, right. And…”
More embarrassment creeps back over his neck. He’s not sure he should admit to his boyfriend that he got into a little fight with his brother.
“I kind of yelled at Finn.”
“I know.”
“He told you?”
“Yeah. Plus I may have asked him to go talk to you in the first place.”
“Oh.”
Mortification prickles. Why did Kurt ask Finn to talk to him? He’s weirdly disappointed Finn didn’t come talk to him on his own. Did he not even care?
Kurt, as always, notices this. It must show on Blaine’s face.
“Not that he wasn’t going to already. He was worried about you,” Kurt assures.
Blaine frowns, hoping he doesn’t start crying. Exhaustion swarms his body as the day’s events come back to him.
“I’m still getting used to the new school, too. Everything’s so different at McKinley.”
“Can’t hide behind a blazer anymore.”
Blaine can’t help but bristle at the comment, even though he knows it’s sort of true.
“I wasn’t hiding.”
“No, you definitely stood out, Mr. Unofficial Leader.”
“I like to stand out by blending in.”
“I know. But it’s not like that at McKinley, and especially not in Glee club. All of us stand out. And we can’t hide. So we stand out together.”
He’s noticed that. They’re quite the ragtag group. Not a single one of them would be able to blend in in the Dalton uniform. Despite that, Blaine kind of likes it.
“I like that. I want to try that.”
“I want that for you, too. And I’m proud of you for everything you’ve done so far. I know you said you came here for you, but thanks for coming. I seriously don’t know how I’d get through this year without you, what with my class president fiasco and now my NYADA application up in the air…”
Kurt stares off at a random corner, focus fading. Blaine wants to bring the brightness back. He truly doesn’t know what he would do without Kurt this year, either. He’d still be at Dalton, probably, with the same friends, same Glee club, same old version of him. But he wouldn’t be challenged to face his fears at public school again, or by a new group of very different teammates that would hopefully turn out to be friends, or by Kurt. Kurt challenges him in ways no one has before. And Blaine is nothing if not encouraged by a challenge.
“I’m glad I came. I don’t know what I’d do without you this year, either.”
He really doesn’t. Now that he’s focusing on it, he can’t imagine the specifics of a life without Kurt. And he doesn’t want to.
Kurt snaps back to the present at his words, softens again.
“Thanks. And now that I’ve got you in my clutches, I’m never letting you go.”
Kurt launches himself forward, tackling Blaine with a hug. They land back on the bed, Kurt on top of him. He can’t even see, his head trapped between Kurt’s chest and the mattress. It’s bliss. Kurt’s weight over him, around him, pressing him into the bed. This is new. The heat from his body, the solidness of him. The sweet scent of honeycrisp apples. Kurt’s perfect. And Blaine feels heavy and light simultaneously, grounded in the sensation even as he’s floating. He almost starts to cry again, but for a very different feeling than before. It’s too big to put into words. He only knows he never wants to leave it. He wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist and holds tight.
“Perfect.”