Klaine One-Shots

Scandals

Frot in the scandals parking lot

*

"You know, there's a real down side to this plan," Kurt says as they turn into the Scandals parking lot.

"Do tell."

Kurt pulls into an empty space and kills the motor. "Well, if we were at my house, when Finn and Dad and Carole were all worked up and yelling at the TV, we could sneak off and make some noise of our own."

"Intriguing." Blaine leans forward as he unfastens his seatbelt. "But you forget that I would have been all worked up and yelling at the TV, too."

"Perhaps. But then I would have dragged my fingers ever-so-lightly right there," Kurt sneaks his index and middle fingers just under the waist of Blaine's jeans, tracing a little circle at the base of his spine, "and I think that would have served as a sufficient reminder of the more important things in life."

"Fuck, Kurt," Blaine gasps. "Don't do this to me." But he arches into Kurt's fingers all the same.

Kurt leans into Blaine's ear. "I may have changed my policy on intimate relations in the Scandals parking lot."

"Fuck, Kurt. It's not night out. It's the morning."

"You're right. It's too early for a nooner. We'll have to call it 'elevenses.'"

Blaine rolls his eyes, an odd mix of exasperation and arousal.

"We don't have to do anything," Kurt whispers, his lips skimming the fine hairs between Blaine's sideburn and ear. "But the back windows are tinted."

"Fuck me," Blaine mutters, halfway between a curse and a command, and before Kurt knows what's happened, Blaine has him pressed up against the door and is ravishing Kurt's mouth with his tongue.

It's fucking awesome – lust and electricity and want and desperate hunger – and a few months ago Kurt might have thought that such feelings were depersonalizing at best and depraved at worst. But now he understands that they're just part of a language that he'd heard but didn't yet understand. They're like words that can be combined in endless ways, for good or evil, but he tries to use them for good. He strings them together to tell Blaine what he never quite could before – how much he needs Blaine in his life, how much he wants him, how Blaine has become as much a part of him as his skin and lungs and heart, how he wants to be that to Blaine, too.

The thoughts spin Kurt even further into desperation and he has to push Blaine away – and it's almost like someone ripped his heart out – just long enough to gasp, "Backseat. Now."

Blaine nods in understanding, but he's back in Kurt's mouth and he's not stopping and fuck Kurt should really have thought this through and removed the backseats before they left. He just hadn't planned on needing Blaine this way already in the morning – he just didn't know. They haven't seen each other in the morning except maybe once since this – learning this new language – started, unless you count school, and Kurt realizes now he absolutely shouldn't count school, not for its predictive value, because he's so used to turning this part of himself off at school, at putting on his virtual sunglasses so that Blaine's brilliance is not so completely blinding.

He grabs Blaine's lapels and pushes against him with his whole body and wow that feels amazing and it's so efficacious because Blaine is shifting, shifting back between the front seats and now he's squatted on the floor behind them and Kurt can just keep pushing, laying Blaine down in that narrow space between the front seats and the second row. He has to separate from Blaine then, he knows it won't be long but it still makes his heart rebel, scream with longing and fury at the unfairness of the separation as Kurt shifts the front seats as far forward and the second row as far back as they will go.