some experimental kurtana in the new york apartment just because (PG-13? i think, i'm not good at this)
They were both slightly buzzed, the sting of the alcohol still burning, strangely pleasant, in their throats. Kurt was stretched out on the couch, completely relaxed and extremely relieved that Rachel wouldn't be home until later. He loved her, but she was incredibly wearing on the nerves.
Santana, on the other hand, was leaning against the wall across from Kurt, watching him with a calculating expression.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing," she hummed, shrugging. "I'm just trying to figure out how you managed to go from a prepubescent Pinocchio to vaguely Disney prince-esque in the span of four years."
Kurt blinked, unsure of what to say to that. He did feel pleased with himself, though; he'd noticed the difference between then and now, of course, and he attributed most of it to his skincare regimen.
"It makes me wonder just how experienced you are," Santana continued, and Kurt broke from his own thoughts to frown at her.
"Experienced?"
"Tell me, what kind of things did you and Blaine do?" she asked, smirking when his jaw dropped indignantly. "Did he tie you up?"
"I tied him, actually," Kurt muttered, and Santana looked triumphant. "That was one time, though."
"Interesting. You've never been with a girl, though, right?"
"I dated Britt--"
"Please, like you guys did anything," she said. "She told me you made out, barely. And that was sophomore year."
"What does that have to do with anything?" She raised her eyebrows.
"Can I be blunt?"
"Please do."
"You look about a hundred times more fuckable than you did in sophomore year, sweet cheeks." Kurt swallowed nervously and looked around, but there was no one else available to provide further input.
"I still don't understand where you're going with this, Santana," he said flatly, despite the way his heart was beating faster. "Get to the point."
"The point is, we're drunk--"
"Barely." She waved him off before continuing as if he'd never interrupted.
"--we're alone, and I can see your hard-on from here." Kurt glared at her, fully aware of the issue but refusing to give her the satisfaction of hiding it. So maybe he was a little more prone to getting turned on with alcohol in his system; Kurt isn't going to deny that. "Would you like some help with that?"
"Wh-- No! I can take care of it myself. Alone," he added when Santana smirked even wider.
"Look," she said, somewhat irritated now, "Lady Hobbit won't be home for a while. You can't tell me you've never wanted to experiment." She straightened up and strolled to the couch, leaning over Kurt. "What do you say?"
"I say you're insane," he whispered, breathing in the sharp scent of alcohol. She started to move away, shaking her head, but he reached for her shoulder. "Fuck it," he muttered, pulling her down until their lips crashed together at an awkward angle.
"I knew you'd give in," she said, practically purring as they broke for air. Kurt huffed in response and pulled her back down again. Santana wasted no time in getting on the couch to straddle him, one hand tugging at the buttons of his shirt.
"Just take it off," he said breathlessly, knowing that he was too far gone to even think about protesting anymore. She did so with surprising dexterity, and they broke just long enough for her to pull the shirt completely off.
"Damn Hummel, you've been holding back with all those layers."
"Shut up and kiss me."
She did so, laughing into it until his teeth tugged at her bottom lip, drawing a surprised gasp. Kurt hummed appreciatively and took charge, supporting himself on one elbow as he held a hand to her cheek, tongue searching, tasting. Santana's fingers trailed down his chest, a light, barely-there touch that made his muscles jump involuntarily as she went lower.
Santana slipped her fingers under the waistband of his sweatpants before letting go with a small snap that pulled a sharp moan from Kurt.
"Do you want me to--"
"Touch me," Kurt said, cutting her off. God, he needed this, whatever it was, but he needed more.
"So demanding." But she cupped her hand over his erection without further preamble, rubbing too-slow through the thin fabric. "Did you go commando today?" she asked, sounding distinctly impressed.
"There wasn't a reason not to," Kurt said, letting his head fall back against the armrest. Santana took the opportunity to nip just under his jaw, scraping her teeth lightly across his pulse point. "No marks."
"That's no fun."
"I don't want to explain this to Ada- oh, fuck."
"You were saying?"
"You're an asshole, you know that?"
"Mhm." Santana took her hand away, and Kurt's hips jerked upwards, looking for friction where there was none. But then she was back at the waistband, dipping underneath it and taking hold--
"You guys, I brought cheesecake--" Kurt and Santana froze, Kurt hoping for a miracle that would save them from being discovered by Rachel, who'd apparently finished up with her class early. He heard the door sliding shut, then footsteps coming closer.
"You have the worst timing in the world," Santana commented casually as she climbed off of Kurt.
"How many times have I told you not to bring other girls--" Rachel stopped as she rounded the edge of the couch, finally in full view of Kurt. He stared at her, upside down, and grinned. The things alcohol does to me. "Kurt?"
"No offense, Rach, but I'm not in the right state of mind to talk right now." She nodded, clearly and utterly confused, and headed to her own room. Kurt threw an arm over his eyes once she was gone, groaning in frustration.
"We could still finish," Santana said, and Kurt dropped his arm to look at her, nonchalant yet flushed. "I know you can be quiet because you and Blaine hooked up at Nationals without anyone knowing. Except me, of course."
"What about you?" Kurt asked, letting his buzz take over for a little while longer. She shrugged, examining her nails disinterestedly.
"It'd take more than a handjob to get so much as a peep out of me," she said, an eyebrow raised.
"I'll do my best," Kurt hummed, his voice low and husky and god, why can't she just get over here already?
"Now we're talking," she said, and she moved to straddle him again.
