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"He's been checking you out all day," Blaine announces, the first time that they're left alone in the fitting room.
"You and I have been side by side all day," Kurt answers, turning left, then right, then in a full circle, checking the fit of his suit. It's the third one that they've put on him today. "What makes you think that he isn't checking you out and not me?"
Blaine loves a good suit, and loves the gift of a custom fitting that Kurt's office had given them as an engagement gift, but after six hours of this he is more than ready to go home. They're going to spend literally months arguing over the merits of each choice, anyway; there are so many little details to discuss. He's excited but he's also hungry, cranky, and—
And so fucking turned on by seeing Kurt in the various designs that they've run through that he has had to readjust himself about ten different times in the last few hours. He's suitably terrified each time he does it, as he's covered in sharp pins and suspects that one wrong move may end in him committing an act of self-inflicted acupuncture. Not only would that be incredibly painful and unpleasant, but Kurt will kill him if he gets blood on this fabric.
"His eyes have spent more time taking in your ass than your inseams, Kurt," he replies, glancing at the door.
It's been at least five minutes since the tailor and his two assistants had disappeared to gather more material and get them all a round of coffee.
Blaine walks over to the mirror and edges up to Kurt's side, trailing a hand carefully along the breast panel where there aren't any pins or seams, and smiles into the kiss that he presses against Kurt's jaw.
"Jealous?" Kurt teases, tilting his head.
The arousal that has been ebbing and flowing all day surges forward, making Blaine's pulse stutter.
Kurt is wearing a crisp white dress shirt and tie, a jacket, and slacks. It's all pinned together rather haphazardly, sagging in certain places and too tight in others. The lack of a smooth fit is visually distracting, but this is mostly negated by the spots where his pale skin shines through the pinned lengths of dark fabric. Blaine can see his boxer-briefs through a gap in the front panel of the pants, and the way that the loose tie hangs low on his throat is so slapdash that it makes Blaine's face flush hot.
"Not at all," he answers, finally, inching closer, eyes ticking yet again to the door and back.
He's pretty sure that the door has a lock, but he wants to judge Kurt's mood first. He wraps his fingers around Kurt's tie, nuzzling his face into the hollow of Kurt's jaw. "You look so hot in this suit."
"You have a suit fetish," Kurt replies, smiling coyly at Blaine's reflection. "Do you think this is the one?"
"I have a Kurt Hummel fetish," Blaine answers, grinning and kissing a wet line from Kurt's jaw to the base of his throat. "God, you drive me crazy." He can't help but watch their reflection.
"Blaine," Kurt whines.
"What?"
"They're going to be back any minute."
"Who says?" He traces a solitary fingertip along Kurt's thigh, drawing circles on the expensive fabric. "The door has a lock." He teases Kurt's earlobe with his tongue. "I could go flip it."
Kurt swallows nervously, making his Adam's apple bob against Blaine's questing mouth. "We can't—"
"Want you so bad," Blaine breathes, kissing up the other side of Kurt's neck. The fingertips that had so innocently traced his thigh now dance inward, seeking out Kurt where he's swelling, warm and firm between his legs. Blaine traces the bulge of him through his pinned pants, relishing the shudder and gasp that spills over as a result. "Mm, there you are."
"Blaine," Kurt moans.
"You're hard for me already," Blaine answers, folding his hand around Kurt's thickening cock, giving it an encouraging squeeze. "I've been thinking about this since this morning. I didn't get to wake you up the way I wanted to." Kurt had been grinding up against him in his sleep, and he'd been about to slide underneath the sheets and wrap his mouth around Kurt's morning erection when the alarm had gone off.
"Shit," Kurt breathes, eyelids fluttering. His cheeks are radiating heat and have gone a soft, excited shade of pink. "O-okay."
Blaine shuffles on tip toe to the door, flips the lock, tests it with a quick jerk of the door handle, then returns to Kurt's side. He grins, wrapping Kurt's tie around his hand and using it to pull Kurt down into a deep, rough kiss.
"Don't have much time," Kurt gasps against his mouth. "What do you want to—"
Blaine bites Kurt's bottom lip softly, and they breathe warm and fast against each other's mouths. He keeps his eyes on Kurt's even as he pushes a hand down the front of Kurt's pants.
"Want this," he says, pumping Kurt's thick erection in his fist. "Want to fuck myself on your cock until I come. Can you stay still for me?"
Kurt's face is fever bright, now, and he's breathing heavily. "I didn't bring any—"
"I have lube in my bag," he whispers, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he strokes Kurt.
"Fuck," Kurt hisses, shaking in Blaine's arms. "Fuck, yes, hurry—"
When he returns with the tube in hand Kurt reaches for it, but Blaine pulls away. He sucks a hard kiss into Kurt's throat and breathes out, "Let me. I don't want you to do anything. Just want you inside of me, okay?"
He reaches behind himself to free the pins that are holding the back of his pants together. The material, thready at the edge, goes loose and spills open from his lower back to just underneath his ass. He pushes his underwear down around his thighs inside of the unpinned pants. He turns, bends forward over the decorative couch that sits in the center of the fitting room, and spreads his legs.
Kurt inhales audibly.
Blaine can feel Kurt's eyes on him as he reaches back and pushes a lubricated finger inside of himself.
"Fuck," he exhales, twisting it. It feels so good after a day of ignoring the need, especially with Kurt watching him. He adds another finger, loving the wet, burning slide as he works himself open.
"Blaine, god," Kurt whines, hands twitching at his sides. Despite that he stands obediently still, hands curling into fists; his cock stands stiff and almost vertical out of the front of his briefs, flushed red at the tip.
Blaine's whole body twists up with a fierce longing for that flesh inside of him. He completes a bare minimum of stretching, gets another handful of lube and stares at Kurt hotly over his shoulder, back bent, ass in the air, cheeks gaping open around a slippery, stretched, pink hole.
"Come closer," he breathes.
He loves Kurt like this, so overwhelmed by nerves and arousal that he just does as he's told.
When he's close enough Blaine fists his cock, dragging the bulk of the length between his cheeks. "Oh, fuck, Kurt—"
He does this for a moment or two, rubbing himself like a dog in heat back against Kurt's cock, and then settles the fat, swollen head against his hole, rubbing it around his rim several times before pushing back against it. It pops past the first ring of muscle and he gasps, bending farther over the back of the sofa.
"Fuck. Fuck, baby."
"Blaine, h-hurry—"
Kurt doesn't move or grab, but Blaine can feel the nervous tension in him. Blaine knows that he's waiting to hear the door handle jiggle, waiting to hear the lock keep the tailor out, waiting for voices to come through the door, waiting for them to show up with a key and let themselves in.
And still, with that, Kurt is hard enough to pound nails.
He slicks Kurt's cock with some more lubricant, hissing at the cool glide under his hand. "Stay still, okay?" He sets his feet and slowly drifts back, working his ass side to side, impaling himself on Kurt's cock. "Fuck, baby, feel so good. So fucking hard—"
It's a slow, burning slide, but Blaine doesn't mind; he's been thinking about this all day, and he is more than willing to put up with a little discomfort to have all of that beautiful flesh inside of him right fucking now.
Kurt whimpers, high-pitched and breathless, and then bites down on his lip. "Please—please move, please—need you to move—"
He actually puts his right hand in a pocket to keep it from reaching out, and shoves the other against his mouth, biting down on a knuckle to keep the noises in as Blaine bottoms out around his cock.
"Oh fuck, yes, right there," Blaine hisses, rolling his pelvis up and down, working Kurt inside of him without pulling off. The grind is almost better than thrusting, rough and deep and quick. He breathes out harshly, feeling heat and sweat build up beneath his clothes.
He closes his eyes and bites his lip, listening to the wet slick noise as he moves faster, fucking himself on Kurt's cock. He can feel Kurt panting and shaking, and continues to savor the faint tremor between them as he reaches down and begins rubbing himself through his pants.
The threat of the door being opened at any moment makes them both shake; they're rushing and they both know it, and Blaine's request that Kurt not thrust, not move, not do anything only makes the tension sing higher.
"Want you to come around me," Kurt whispers, voice breaking. "Want you to come in your pants."
"Close," Blaine gasps. He'd like to draw this out, but they don't have much time, and he wants to come so badly. He rubs himself faster, finding the shape of the shaft of his cock and wrapping his hand around it, using the slippery material of his silk underwear for friction against the head.
"God, your ass—your fucking hips, Blaine, Jesus—yeah, fuck me. Fuck my cock. Squeeze it, f-fuck—so good, baby."
So fucking close.
Blaine whines, turning his face into the sleeve of his suit jacket. "Kurt. Shit." He inhales, trying to stifle the noises rising in his throat. He turns, watching Kurt standing there motionless and trembling.
"Wanna come in me?" he rasps out, feeling Kurt's throbbing, bare cock surge inside of him. "Come in my ass, make me wet, make me drip—" Kurt sobs, pelvis jerking helplessly. "—get your come everywhere, yeah, wanna feel you come—"
Kurt cries out just once as he spills, still and frozen up. Blaine turns his face away and his body goes over the edge, propelled by the sight of the twisted up, pleasurable agony written across Kurt's flushed, sweaty features; he comes in his underwear humping his hand, biting a mouthful of fabric to muffle the noise.
"Shit," he breathes. His body is burning and his ears are ringing.
The door to the fitting room jiggles loudly.
"Oh my god," Kurt breathes, as his come trickles out of Blaine's abused hole and down the back of his balls.
Blaine grabs a swatch of soft fabric off of the floor and uses it to clean them both up. He doesn't have time to go for the wet wipes in his bag; he just shoves the lubricant bottle under the couch, readjusts their tacked up suits, and kisses Kurt softly on the lips.
"Love you."
"You're in so much trouble," Kurt replies breathlessly.
"You can punish me when we're married," Blaine says, grinning.