Title: 30 Minutes or Less
Pairings: Kurt and Blaine
Word Count: ~2,800
Summary: Kurt and Blaine enjoy a favorite game of theirs. "The premise is simple: whoever can get the other off first, wins. But they only have until the pizza delivery person shows up."
A/N: This is set in this 'verse, but all you need to know is that Kurt and Blaine are going to school at NYU and share an apartment together.
It’s one of those rare nights where Blaine is home before Kurt. The late May sun is setting and the air blowing in from the open balcony door is still warm. Blaine is standing behind the screen door, looking over the courtyard 12 floors below for any sign of his boyfriend. It’s a Friday night and Blaine was hoping to surprise Kurt, because Blaine is never home early. But when he’d gotten back he’d found a note attached to his guitar (since that’s always the first thing Blaine goes for when he gets home, aside from Kurt) saying that he’d gone to run errands and would be home soon.
Summer is so close Blaine can practically taste it, and the warm scent the breeze carries in through the balcony door isn’t helping. Their hectic schedules still leave little time for anything more than a quick make-out session before class or even a meal between classes on the days they manage to make it back to the apartment at the same time. And on weekends if Blaine doesn’t have rehearsal, Kurt has a presentation; if Kurt doesn’t have a show to go to, Blaine is interning at the improv theatre across the city.
Speaking of tasting… Blaine absent-mindedly licks his lips at the thought of Kurt and scans the courtyard yet again in earnest. The lamps have turned on and throw shadows across the pavement but from his vantage point he can’t see anything other than somebody riding by on a bike.
He sighs, then for some reason panics as to what to do when Kurt does finally get home. For a split second he considers literally ambushing Kurt at the door but reconsiders when he’s reminded of the last time he tried to do that. Kurt had forcefully kneed him in the groin, thinking Blaine was a burglar. Needless to say, that had put a damper on Blaine’s mood after that and the rest of the night was spent with Kurt apologizing repeatedly as Blaine sat on the couch, nursing his injury with a bag of ice on his lap.
Blaine looks around helplessly at the apartment and decides that while he waits he might as well take a shower. As he stands under the warm water, he tries to focus his thoughts on how he and Kurt should spend their extra time tonight. Immediately, he tries in vain to suppress the rush he gets at the images suddenly bombarding him but a particular memory is brought up and he’s lost in it. But just as soon as the idea had come to him, he hears the door slam shut and Blaine promptly hops out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist and another around his neck, he pads into the living room to see Kurt with his back to him, hips swaying slightly as he hums idly to himself and sets his bags on the dining table.
“There you are,” Blaine says, standing in the doorway and rubbing the water out of his hair. Kurt jumps a little at the sound and turns, conspicuously giving Blaine a once-over and arching an eyebrow in the process. Blaine can see a smirk tug at the corner of Kurt’s lips but the boy turns back around to start taking things out of one of the grocery bags he’d brought in.
“You’re dripping water onto the floor,” he says over his shoulder.
Blaine looks at his feet and then back up to grin devilishly at the back of Kurt’s head. He sidles up beside Kurt to see what he’s doing. A drop of water from one of his curls falls on the table and out of the corner of Blaine’s vision he saw Kurt watch it fall. But Blaine focuses his attention on Kurt’s actions and tsks loudly in disappointment when he realizes what is in the bags.
“You bought dinner?” he asks, layering his voice heavily with pathetic disappointment to catch Kurt’s attention.
Kurt stops mid-action, a cucumber in one hand and a container of blueberries in the other, and Blaine pulls a poker face when Kurt looks at him. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you home so early so I thought I’d take the time to make something and have dinner waiting for you.” At the sight of Blaine pouting, he continues, “Not that I’m not happy to see you, I just had a plan.”
Blaine presses himself against Kurt’s back, ignoring his boyfriend’s protests about getting his shirt wet and whispers into his ear, “I was kind of hoping we could order pizza tonight?”
Kurt shivers a little, and it’s not just from the water that has seeped in from Blaine’s chest through his shirt. What would sound like a normal request to an outsider is almost an inside joke between the couple. Except less funny and just much more fun.
When the two had just moved into their apartment last year and were getting into the swing of their schedules they had quickly discovered the lack of time they had. And that is how the game began. It had started out innocently enough, with the couple ordering pizza for what seemed the hundredth time one night but it quickly became more exciting when Blaine had hung up the phone and turned to Kurt with a mischievous smirk, “Want to play a game?”
The premise is simple: whoever can get the other off first, wins. But they only have until the pizza delivery person shows up. Judging from past experiences and one close-call, that leaves them with roughly 25 minutes but as always, the thought that they never really know just heightens the stakes.
Kurt hums lightly in consideration, setting down the food in his hands as they both eye his cell phone on the table. His hips give an almost imperceptible twitch backward into Blaine. “You suggested it, which means you have to call.”
Blaine didn’t realize he had been holding his breath, and he lets it out with a whoosh against the back of Kurt’s neck when he realizes what that means. “But you already have a head start; I’m half naked as it is.”
“Consider it another challenge, then,” Kurt says, reaching over the table and placing his phone in Blaine’s palm, but not before exaggeratedly pushing backward this time and grinding against the towel around Blaine’s waist.
“You’re cheating,” Blaine breathes, stepping back and putting enough distance between the two so Kurt can’t continue to torture him. “The clock hasn’t started yet.”
Kurt shrugs and leans back against the table, throwing his head back in an obvious attempt to flash Blaine as much of his neck as possible. Blaine huffs, and really it’s just a way of trying to hide the way that move always knocks the breath out of him, and hits the speed dial button on the phone, preparing himself for the assault he knows is coming.
As Blaine hears the pizza guy on the other end read off the specials, Kurt is eying him as if he were something to eat. The clock has officially started and it’s become a disadvantage to be the one on the phone. He’s barely listening when the guy asks for their order because suddenly Kurt is right in front of him, his hands splayed over Blaine’s chest, fingers brushing lightly over his nipples. Blaine’s breath hitches in his throat as a thrill shoots down his spine and he nearly forgets that he’s on the phone.
Kurt doesn’t break eye contact and continues to stroke at Blaine’s skin while the shorter boy stammers, “Y-yes. The usual. Ah! Ummm,” he takes an embarrassing sharp intake of breath when Kurt bends down to slide his tongue down over Blaine’s collar bone and takes one of his nipples between his teeth, smiling devilishly as Blaine tries desperately to maintain himself over the phone. “Sorry. Y-yeah, that’s the address.” Blaine coughs loudly to cover the moan he was about to elicit when Kurt’s hand slides underneath the hem of the towel. “Thanks!” Blaine practically shouts into the phone and pulls away just before Kurt can slide his hand all the way up Blaine’s thigh.
“You’re not going to win this time,” he says, attempting to cool himself off and hoping internally that it’s not the same guy that answered the phone as last time because the business is sure to start becoming suspicious after more than one phone call like that.
“I don’t know about that,” Kurt says, striding up to Blaine again and backing him against the back of the couch. “I’ve been on a winning streak.” Kurt practically attacks Blaine’s mouth, his tongue pushing past Blaine’s lips and fighting for dominance.
Blaine takes the opportunity, while Kurt is temporarily distracted, to press his palm against the prominent bulge in Kurt’s tight jeans and rubbing hard into the fabric. He swallows Kurt’s gasp, keeping him close with his other arm wrapped around the boy’s waist and preventing him for squirming out of reach as he continues to stroke the outline of Kurt’s (now almost painful) erection.
“Nnngh,” Kurt manages to finally break free of Blaine’s mouth, having nearly forgotten they were in competition for a moment there. Both of them would like to think that they are the pictures of self-control, but unfortunately when in the hands of each other, they tend to fall apart. Kurt can already feel the heat coiling low in his stomach and all the hairs standing on end on the back of his neck, a place where Blaine’s hand soon finds itself as he pulls Kurt back in for another kiss.
Blaine’s other hand removes itself from Kurt’s crotch and Kurt can’t stop the whimpering noise he makes into Blaine’s mouth. But Blaine is tugging on Kurt’s shirt, eager to get it out of the confines of Kurt’s damned tight jeans. He begins undoing the buttons but is stopped when Kurt forcefully rakes his fingers down his back, and Blaine throws his head back at the sensation.
“How—how long has it been?” Blaine rasps out as Kurt pushes him further against the back of the couch, rolling his hips and causing the towel around his waist to loosen a little.
Kurt lifts his head up from his position at Blaine’s shoulder to squint at the clock on the mantle. “Nine,” he breathes into Blaine’s ear before scraping his teeth along the shell and resuming his ministrations against Blaine’s neck. Wherever Kurt’s body is pressed up against Blaine’s, it feels like he is on fire and Blaine’s mind is battling for dominance in reminding him that this is a competition. Another part of his body is desperately arguing to screw that and just get on with it and Blaine is dangerously close to agreeing.
Somehow he manages to claw at the buttons of Kurt’s jeans without Kurt’s realizing and internally cheers as he tugs them down over Kurt’s thighs. Kurt pulls back from Blaine’s shoulder and for a second they just stare at each other before Kurt is kicking off his pants and unbuttoning his shirt.
“Wha—” Blaine manages to choke out but Kurt cuts him off.
“I’ve been going easy on you until now,” Blaine stares dubiously at Kurt because, really, who is he kidding. “And I thought I’d even the playing field out before I take you down.”
Blaine steps around the side of the couch, not entirely trusting his knees not to give out but not trusting the look in Kurt’s eyes right now, either. The mixture of stubbornness and desire darkens Kurt’s usually bright blue eyes. Before Blaine has time to process it, Kurt’s bare, soft skin is pressed against his and he can feel Kurt against his hip and dear god it might be worth losing again. With a simple tug of Kurt’s finger, Blaine’s towel falls to the floor and he’s left balancing against the arm of the couch, Kurt’s nails digging into his ass and their mouths molded together.
Blaine cups Kurt through his boxer-briefs and Kurt’s hold around him slackens. With just the right amount of pressure he knows Kurt loves, he palms him through the fabric. Kurt’s hips buck into Blaine’s hand and then away, as if unsure about the attention. Blaine licks a straight line up the center of Kurt’s chest and can feel the lean muscles twitch underneath the smooth skin.
“Oh, god,” Kurt moans. Blaine is so pent up with frantic energy that he groans embarrassingly loudly when Kurt grasps his erection, smoothing it over with long, but quick strokes. He falls backward, bracing himself against the arm of the couch as Kurt works him over. Blaine can feel the heat slowly building and the thrilling tingles shooting through his veins. But suddenly Kurt’s lips are on his again and he’s slowed his hand slightly. “About ten minutes left,” he barely whispers against Blaine’s mouth but Blaine can hear the challenge behind it. He hadn’t realized it before, but his eyes had been squeezed shut and now they fly open to find cerulean ones staring intensely back.
Blaine immediately drops to his knees, peppering kisses over the soft skin of Kurt’s inner thighs and hip bones before nearly swallowing Kurt whole. His hands hold Kurt steady, nails digging lightly into the flesh of his ass but he can feel one of Kurt’s knees quake as Blaine swipes his tongue over the head of Kurt’s cock. He feels Kurt’s hands tugging at his hair and for a moment he is distracted by the sensation and how it causes his own cock to practically throb with want. He palms himself a little to relieve the tension, not stopping his attention on Kurt, however, because time is literally of the essence now.
He can taste the familiar flavor of a sweet-salty-bitterness of Kurt’s pre-come and laves at it with his tongue, causing Kurt to shudder underneath his touch. Kurt is dangerously close but never being one to go down without a fight he tugs Blaine up and locks their hips together once again, trying to plaster their heated bodies together. Kurt loves this game because he loves feeling Blaine shift between pliant and defensive constantly as the two compete; he can feel all of Blaine’s muscles tense and contract. Kurt rocks his erection against Blaine’s and the boy whines at the friction.
Nine more minutes have passed and the couple is frantic, now. Their movements are spastic and desperate. Blaine is biting down hard on Kurt’s shoulder as their bodies move together. Kurt can feel the familiar tingle that always stars in his toes and his mind is so foggy from the heat of just Blaine that he has little control in fighting it. While the heat in Blaine’s stomach is building quickly and Kurt just keeps rolling his hips and he just knows he is going to lose. Oh, but losing has never in his life felt so much like winning.
But Kurt’s body tenses and his toes curl just at the same time that Blaine’s back arches, both coming between them and harder than they have in a long time. Blaine collapses backward over the arm of the couch and Kurt practically falls forward onto him. For a moment they take time to catch their breath, before both start laughing. Kurt reaches behind the couch for Blaine’s discarded towel and begins cleaning them up.
“Well, looks like the underdog came through this time,” Blaine says, pulling himself off the couch and pressing a light kiss to Kurt’s shoulder while he continues to clean up.
“I’m sorry? Pretty sure I won there,” but they don’t have time to argue because just then, the doorbell rings and the two stare at each other in their current state of undress.
“Just a minute!” Blaine calls through the door. And then, to Kurt, “Loser gets the door.” He grabs the towel and makes a mad dash for the bedroom, slamming the door shut and Kurt can just make out the click of the lock.
Kurt curses under his breath and hurriedly tugs his pants back on before answering the door. He peeks around the door to find, to his relief, a new pizza delivery girl and feels less awkward about stepping into the doorway shirtless and still a little flushed.
When he’s finished paying and the girl has left (not without a coquettish wink that Kurt could only smile sweetly at) he turns back around to find Blaine on the couch in his pajamas, an innocent smirk plastered on his face.
“Whatever false victory you’re feeling right now is going to be short-lived after I murder you for abandoning me like that,” Kurt says, placing the pizzas on the table.
“Such a sore loser,” Blaine tuts and Kurt glares at him.
“I didn’t lose,” Kurt says shortly, pouting a little. And all Blaine wants to do is suck at that lower lip some more.
“Call it a draw, then?” Blaine asks, getting up from the couch to wrap his arms around Kurt’s waist.
“No, I want to beat you fair and square,” Kurt replies.
“Do you, now?” Blaine arches an eyebrow. “How about a second round after dinner, then?”
Kurt pretends to contemplate this for a moment before nodding, “You’re on.”