awkward firsts: the first time Kurt feels Blaine hard.

The bowl of popcorn is so far away. Kurt eyes it longingly from where he’s propped up against Blaine’s headboard, the blanket thrown over their laps as the glow from Blaine’s TV flickers over them. He keeps glancing from the screen back to the bowl on the nightstand, then the silhouetted profile of Blaine’s face in between. Blaine really is beautiful in any light, Kurt thinks. Much more beautiful—and interesting—than this movie, but it’s Blaine’s house and Kurt’s not going to say no to watching a movie together when no one else is home.

“Kurt,” Blaine huffs, grabbing his hand and startling Kurt would of his thoughts and ways to distract Blaine into abandoning The Social Network and making out until Kurt’s curfew instead, “what are you looking at? You’re distracting me.”

Kurt bites his lip. He doesn’t want to ask Blaine to hand him the bowl, because it’s perfectly in reach. If he just gets up a little, nudges the blankets down and leans over, mindful of Blaine’s body, and if he can place his hand just so on the other side of Blaine’s thigh—

He gets up and tries, the bed creaking under him as he fumbles a little, palm slipping, and lands after a split-second’s horror with an oomph onto Blaine’s lap. His chest is pressed to the warm strength of Blaine’s thighs, and any other time he’d laugh it off, make some joke and get back up before reaching successfully for the bowl, but this time there’s a warm, hard length pressed against the rapid beating of his heart, and his eyes widen before he scrambles up. He stares at Blaine, his lips parting as he registers that he’d just felt Blaine’s dick—Blaine’s dick—against his chest, and holy shit, is Blaine really that big? Kurt’s mouth dries out quickly, and he has to force himself not to stare, has to clench his fingers into a tight fist so he doesn’t reach out and touch.

Blaine looks mortified, his back straight and his eyes staring, unseeing, at the TV. Faintly, whenever the glow flashes particularly white, Kurt can see the red heat blooming across the apples of Blaine’s cheeks. It’s cute, actually, and Kurt likes seeing Blaine blush because god knows he does enough of it for the both of them, especially now, but he just can’t find the right words to say anything. What can he say? Wow, um, so that’s your dick?

Finally he ventures, hesitant as he feels even the back of his neck burn hot with the rapid spread of his blush, “Blaine? Are you…hard?” He tries not to notice how his voice cracks, shifts and goes even higher on that last word.

Slowly, Blaine nods. Kurt feels a dizzying rush of heated want go through him, and he almost gasps at how powerful it is. They’ve been dating for less than a year and anytime they’ve kissed they’ve both made sure to be respectful of boundaries and body contact. They’ve never they explicitly addressed this, though Kurt’s known logically all along that it was going to happen eventually, and he’s been building himself up to it for months.

He just didn’t think that eventually would happen so soon while they were watching a movie, much less something like The Social Network, which shouldn’t be encouraging hard-ons in the first place.

Kurt’s still trying to process feeling his boyfriend hard for the first time when Blaine says, quickly defensive as he shifts his hips, “It’s Armie Hammer, I swear.”

Kurt blinks, not even sure he knows who that is at the moment. He’s still kind of honestly hung up on remembering the feeling of Blaine’s dick pressed against his chest. “Armie Hammer?”

Blaine nods, bobbing his head quickly. He bites his lip and looks down at his lap, pulling the blanket up over the bulge that now seems so obvious in its stark blue-light relief that Kurt is paying attention. “Yeah, like…okay, don’t laugh at me, but he’s so hot and his voice is just…wow. Deep, you know, and sexy. And there’s two of him in this movie, Kurt. Two. Imagine two of him working you over at the same time.”

“Hey,” Kurt says, scandalized and slightly hurt. “You’re fantasizing about other people while I’m sitting next to you.”

“Oh, like you don’t.”

Kurt shakes his head, and though Blaine gives him a skeptical look he doesn’t let that deter him. He really doesn’t think about other guys like that anymore. There’d been Taylor Lautner, sure, but that was before Blaine. Since Blaine Kurt hasn’t really let himself fantasize about other people. He’s still trying to get used to being someone else’s half, and it’s all so new and amazing that Kurt can’t imagine spoiling these new feelings with thoughts of something that wouldn’t ever exist. “I’m a realist, Blaine. I’m not going to ever have sex with Taylor Lautner, and you’re not ever going to have sex with Armie Hammer. Much less two of him.”

Blaine pouts, slouching against his headboard. “You’re such a killjoy.”

Kurt snuggles closes, smiling as he burrows into Blaine’s side and presses his forehead to Blaine’s shoulder. “I’m your killjoy.”

Blaine laughs, soft and sweet, and tugs the blanket up over Kurt’s hip. “You are.”

“And you love me.”

“I do.”

A thrill runs up Kurt’s spine at those words, that he can say them and hear them now. He’s glad that his face is at least partially hidden so that Blaine can’t see the full extent of his grin.

Blaine’s arm wraps around Kurt’s shoulders, and he forces himself to relax, to let the moment pass. Embarrassing situations like this happen all the time in relationships—it’s part of the growth, the stronger bonds.

They’re both silent for awhile as they settle back into the movie, and Kurt’s lulled into a comfortable state between lucidness and complacent drowsiness. He matches his breathing to Blaine’s, buries his face into the smooth curve between Blaine’s neck and shoulder.

He doesn’t expect Blaine’s lips on the top of his head, nor does he expect the words he hears next, low and heated and teasing: “You make me hard, too, you know. Especially when you’re in between me and the Armie Hammers.”

He really hopes his hips are far enough away from Blaine’s thigh.

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