barry.

     Barry had always thought of that rainy day as a blessing. He
had his friends who by that point had become like family to him, but there was something entirely different about Blaine,
like the way every room he walked into seemed to get a little
brighter when he did, as did the smile on Barry’s face whenever
he caught sight of him. He must have been just one of those
people, Barry thought, those you only hear about in movies
starring Drew Barrymore. The kind of people that carried that
indescribable quality that had them bring joy and light
everywhere they went, so effortlessly, like they had no idea
they were doing it to begin with. And perhaps that first
impression was in fact correct– but it certainly didn’t explain
why Barry found himself talking about him far more often than
he realized, or why there was a little voice in his head warning
him friends didn’t look at each other like that whenever he got
absentmindedly lost while Blaine was talking, face resting on
his knuckles with a warm smile of awe ghosting over his lips,
most likely resembling the cartoon of a lovestruck forth-grader.

All of that which should have been to the answer to those and so
many other questions Blaine had unknowingly awakened, was
actually the last thing on his mind. Instead, his thoughts were
far more primitive, linked almost exclusively to the way he felt, to the way that felt. The hair on the back of his neck
stood as goosebumps rose all across his skin in response to him
bringing a hand up to his face. Through his veins, blood began
flowing even faster than usual, carrying all the different
chemical reactions that had suddenly been triggered, and he
heard his heart thumping in his ears. It had been a long time
since a kiss had had him feel like that. Intense as the
combination to all of those sensations was, almost overflowing
him, his instinctive response was to want more, a hand rising to
cup the back of Blaine’s neck in an attempt to get him exactly
that. In the process, he felt the tip of his tongue gently brush
against his, and he saw stars.

Describing how every part of his body was focused on this spinning, dizzying, wonderful sensation was impossible.  Not without jumbling thoughts that were currently only tethered to one thing.  One person.  And everything about him was all Blaine wanted to hold onto. Instead? Blaine let go of the instinctual notion he had to piece together some sense in what he was doing before he made a huge error of judgement.  Or pinpoint where in this friendship he started to see Barry as much more but dismissed it repeatedly out of fear of damaging something he now valued.  Why did he have to think about any of that?  All he found himself wanting needing–in what now seemed like a blur of time since maybe they first met–Barry to have more than a tiny taste and for that shift of gravity that seemed to pool in his stomach in the best sort of way? Barry was giving back.  “Barry,” a low and wobbly exhale of his name paused the kiss when Barry cupped his neck and sent a shiver down his spine.  

Tips of tongues reconnected-a bare graze that was the embodiment of restraint–and Blaine forgot what air was. Spreading fingers over Barry’s cheek and explored along his hairline–Blaine captured Barry’s wrist with the other hand, melting back to rest his shoulders against the back of the sofa and nudged Barry to come along.  Could this man be any more beautiful?  He’d never agree to it, but he was.  His caress over Barry’s temple lowered, curling around the edge of his chin from underneath and gently nudged downwards to open his mouth. Holding on tenderly, Blaine peeked at Barry’s lips.  They were wet and open and waiting because he made them that way.   The idea made his heart sing.  Fingertips turned white against the bones of Barry’s wrist. His restrain broke.  His tentative kiss and taste turned much more desperate, deep enough that all of Barry’s mouth was his to explore.  And what he found inside was heaven.  With his pulse a racing, pounding thrum in his throat, chest, ears–Blaine could only groan and shift his touch from his cheek to his waist where trembling fingers balled up the hem of Barry’s shirt for something to cling to.