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“They're out of Il Piatto in three minutes flat, walking briskly up Marcy Street, toward the Eldorado Hotel. "I hate that I can't just hail a cab in this town," Kurt says. Blaine has his hand on the small of Kurt's back, and he's not trying to rush him, he really isn't, because they're only a few blocks away, but he does give him a little push. Just a tiny one. And then his hand is somehow on Kurt's ass. Oh God, Kurt's perfect, perfect, perfect ass. He needs it. He needs to see it, and touch it, and taste it and fill it. Kurt groans and then Blaine reaches around and palms Kurt's cock through his jeans while they're walking. "Blaine! Fuck!" Kurt bats Blaine's hand away. "Are you kidding me right now? I am not coming in these jeans in front of all of these tourists!" "Sorry, sorry. I don't... I've never done that before. I don't know what..." "Just keep walking." Blaine knows Kurt is just frustrated with the four blocks between them and their hotel, at their lack of wings, at their inability to teleport directly to Kurt's bed. Or his. Maybe his. No. Kurt's on a lower floor. Closer. They're both rock hard and finding it difficult to walk fast, so Blaine takes Kurt's hand and gives into the stroll. But not a minute later he's sliding his hand up Kurt's arm, down his back, under his shirt, and into the back of his jeans, trying to get at that perfect, perfect, perfect ass. "Jesus, Blaine! Go. Go to the other side of the street," Kurt demands. "What? No." "You're like a fucking animal, Blaine, and I'm good with it. Believe me, I am, but you can't keep your gorgeous hands off my ass or my cock, so we need to be separated. Like unruly children," Kurt says. "Or horny teenagers." "Whatever. Go." Kurt folds his arms and waits until Blaine crosses to the other side of San Francisco Street. Blaine turns to face him, holding his hands out wide and says loud enough for Kurt and several bystanders to hear, "Really, Kurt? Really? This is silly." "Just walk!" They mirror each other as they walk, sneaking glances, trying to keep up with each other. Kurt's hands are in his pockets, and Blaine wonders if Kurt can feel the throbbing of his own cock through his pockets. He wants to be Kurt's hand, his pockets, the boxer briefs he knows Kurt is wearing. Blaine has to stop for a moment and steady himself, and now he's steps from Starbucks where just that morning he had made the decision to give in to this beautiful thing. Across the street Kurt stops and waits, and then when Blaine finally gathers his wits, falls in step with him. Blaine picks up the pace, and Kurt follows. They both stop at parallel curbs, waiting for two lazy cars to slide by, and that's when they both turn to look at each other in the same moment. Their eyes lock, and then they are walking fast, Eldorado in sight, taking their eyes off of each other only long enough to make sure they don't run straight into a pole. Blaine is eyefucking Kurt from across a street and Kurt is giving it right back to him, the energy between them tight. Crackling. Bright. They're almost running when they reach the steps of the hotel, taking two at a time and bursting through the heavy lobby doors like the doors are fake, like they're paper. They don't touch; people know them here. Blaine slows, eyes still on Kurt as they make their way to the main elevators. ”—
LIKE WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN IN MY LIFE?
IT’S NOT OKAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!