Title: Welcome Home
Word count: ~1.3k
Warnings/spoilers: finale what finale?
Summary: Cliché as it sounds, Blaine smells like home to Kurt. (A.k.a. accidental grinding in the middle of an airport and blowjobs in the backseat of a car.)
A/N: Written for Dawn, after she had a bad day. ♥ It's a little late because it got away from me, but I hope you still like it.
Kurt likes to press his face into the crook of Blaine's neck, where his shoulder muscles and neck muscles meet. It smells the most like Blaine there--warm and slightly soapy, a hint of cinnamon teasing Kurt's noise. Cliché as it sounded, Blaine smells like home to Kurt. The first night he's in New York by himself, lying in his too-narrow bed and staring at the blotchy ceiling of his and Rachel's tiny apartment, it's not his own room that's he's missing but instead the smell of Blaine. He's not homesick for a place so much as a smell--and not just any smell, but Blaine's. He ends up rolling onto his side and burying his nose in the soft fur of Margaret Thatcher dog, chasing the remnants of scent still lingering on her fur.
It gets better, being away from Blaine. Kurt feels like it shouldn't, like it should hurt more with every passing day, but the truth is that it does get better. Four months in, he no longer lies awake for hours wishing Blaine was with him; he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, exhausted from the combination of school, work in a local coffee shop and the strenuous attempts at making something of a social life. All the same, he can't help but feel an overwhelming surge of pure, unadulterated joy when he hurtles out of the gates at the airport and sees Blaine stood there, bow tie and sweater vest in place and exactly like Kurt had pictured him in his dreams (although maybe with a little more clothing than some of those dreams).
Blaine smells better than Kurt had remembered, if that was even possible; scents of spices and soap assaulting Kurt's nose until he's weak at the knees, clinging onto Blaine's arms with his nose buried in the crook of Blaine's neck and, most embarrassingly, painfully hard in his skintight jeans. Blaine makes a soft little noise of surprise when he shifts and his hip nudges against Kurt's boner. Kurt makes to pull back, blushing, but Blaine grabs onto Kurt's hips and smiles, blindingly bright and beautiful and Kurt's breath catches in his throat and it's all he can do not to kiss Blaine in the middle of an Ohioan airport, surrounded by people who are already giving them slanted looks. But then Blaine shifts slightly and their hips press together and shit they need to get to Blaine's car before something even more embarrassing happens right there.
Kurt licks his lips. "Where are you parked?" he asks, not caring that his voice has dropped into what Blaine had teasingly dubbed his 'sex register' and rasps in his throat.
Blaine's pupils are blown wide, and Kurt can feel him half-hard against his own dick. He blinks at Kurt, as if Kurt had asked him to recite the Greek alphabet backwards, and Kurt is so achingly in love with this boy that his chest hurts. "What?" Blaine says, looking dazed and so very horny.
"We can finish this in your car." Kurt would check his watch to confirm that yes, they do have time before they need to be back in Lima for dinner, but at the moment he can't take his eyes off Blaine because fuck.
"Right," Blaine says, eyes still dark but the blush on his cheeks most likely from the realisation that they were practically grinding up on each other in public. Time has weakened their PDA-control skills, Kurt notes, and has to resist the urge to smile at the thought that they won't be needing those skills once Blaine gets to New York.
Kurt pulls away, his boner diminished enough for him to walk without a huge tent in his pants screaming 'look at us! look at us gays getting it on in the airport!' and picks up the handle of his suitcase again. "You know, I haven't had a blowjob in nearly six months," he says casually as he leads the way. He glances over his shoulder at Blaine's pained groan, smirking when he sees his boyfriend's glazed expression and the way his mouth has dropped open slightly, red and practically begging to be wrapped around Kurt's dick. "Think you can fix that for me?"
Blaine nods so eagerly that Kurt might have laughed, were he not so turned on. "Walk faster, walk faster," Blaine mutters, speeding up and planting a broad hand in the small of Kurt's back in order to propel him through the airport.
Kurt laughs and, when they get to Blaine's car, pulls Blaine up for a long kiss before letting Blaine wriggle down his body and open his pants, his mouth hot and perfect around Kurt's cock. Blaine makes a muffled groan, his body hitching in a way that Kurt recognises to mean that he has a hand in his own pants too. Blaine pulls off momentarily to look up at Kurt, eyes almost black in the darkened interior of the car. "God, you smell so good, you know that?"
Kurt smiles so wide that he thinks he might have torn a muscle. He pets his fingers across the back of Blaine's head, for once not caring about the gel helmet, before guiding Blaine back to his dick and oh god right there. "You can talk," he manages to get out, head thumping back against the car door. "Jesus fuck yes god I love you."
Blaine makes a mumbled reply that may well have been 'I love you too' but then Kurt's coming fast and hard down Blaine's throat, waves of white pleasure surging over him and sending his eyes rolling back in his head. He feels himself jerk and then soften in Blaine's mouth, Blaine pulling back and licking at him with little kitten licks, tongue pink and god if Kurt could get hard again straight away he would be right now. He settles for a groan instead and pulls Blaine up to kiss him, hard and hot and the taste of Kurt's come in both of their mouths. He's just reaching down to wrap his hands around Blaine's cock when Blaine whines, high and desperate at the back of his throat, and spasms against Kurt, gasping into Kurt's mouth.
They're still for a moment, sticky and warm, before Kurt's back decides to start complaining about being shoved awkwardly against a car door. He winces and shifts slightly, the movement pulling Blaine closer against him and he gets a waft of Blaine's scent again. "We can be a few minutes late to dinner, right?"
Blaine looks at him in confusion, eyes returned to their normal honey colour. "I don't think I can--"
"Because the thing is," Kurt cuts him off smoothly, "I also haven't had a cuddle in six months." He smiles at Blaine, seeing understanding dawn in his eyes. "And I could really do with one from my boyfriend right now."
Blaine tilts his head in that way Kurt knows he does when he's getting emotional, his eyes large and soft and his mouth still kiss-red. "Kurt--"
Kurt interrupts him with another kiss, slow and sweet, before pulling Blaine closer against his body and burying his face in the crook of Blaine's neck. "Shut up and let me smell you," he says, knowing that he sounds slightly desperate and unable to find it in himself to care. His boxers are sticky from the splashes of come that Blaine hadn't managed to lick up, his belt buckle digging into his hip in a manner that is sure to leave bruises later, and his back is starting to cramp up from being in a tiny aeroplane seat for several hours and then shoved up against a car door--but Blaine's warm smell is surrounding him, his arms even warmer as they wrap around Kurt's shoulders, and he can feel Blaine's heartbeat thrumming steady and strong against him.
In the backseat of a car in the middle of an airport car-park, Kurt Hummel is home.