The Breath Before the Kiss.
( t h r e e )
Burt was very clear to Sam about having Kurt home by curfew (midnight, meaning no after-parties—not that they would’ve gone anyways), which was understood, but is also being pushed as far as possible.
Kurt has four minutes to be inside before Papabear Hummel comes after Sam with a shotgun.
They’re on the porch, just looking at one another while in each other’s arms, faces centimeters apart. Kurt’s hair is slightly mussed (but still appropriate to be seen in public), whereas Sam’s was disheveled.
(For a brief moment, Kurt can’t help but wonder if it would look similar after a few hours under bedsheets.)
“I have a curfew,” Kurt reminds him as the blonde presses his lips on the corner of Kurt’s mouth.
“I know.” His mouth is over Kurt’s, and they savor the few minutes they have left of the wondrous night. Kurt finds that Sam tastes like that fruity-tasting punch, and Sam thoroughly enjoys the minty freshness of Kurt.
Sam feels Kurt smile into the kiss and tightens his hold around the smaller boy, their bodies fitting each other like two jigsaw pieces.
(One minute.)
Kurt unwillingly pulls away. “I had an amazing…no, a spectacular time,” he tells Sam, prying the other’s arms off of him. “Drop by tomorrow,” he says, before he can slip inside, the hands on Sam’s watch both now pointing to twelve.
Sam sighed; disappointed it ended so abruptly, but immensely pleased with the night as a whole, deeming it a success.
As he was about to turn to head to his car, the door opened again. Kurt was blushing madly, a broad smile on his face. He grabs Sam’s face, murmuring, “I forgot something.”
A tender, slow kiss is planted on Sam, who immediately reciprocates. Kurt moves away, happy with the pleasantly surprised look on Sam’s face. “I love you,” he says.
Sam’s smile comes back full-force. “I love you, too.”
Kurt has four minutes to be inside before Papabear Hummel comes after Sam with a shotgun.
They’re on the porch, just looking at one another while in each other’s arms, faces centimeters apart. Kurt’s hair is slightly mussed (but still appropriate to be seen in public), whereas Sam’s was disheveled.
(For a brief moment, Kurt can’t help but wonder if it would look similar after a few hours under bedsheets.)
“I have a curfew,” Kurt reminds him as the blonde presses his lips on the corner of Kurt’s mouth.
“I know.” His mouth is over Kurt’s, and they savor the few minutes they have left of the wondrous night. Kurt finds that Sam tastes like that fruity-tasting punch, and Sam thoroughly enjoys the minty freshness of Kurt.
Sam feels Kurt smile into the kiss and tightens his hold around the smaller boy, their bodies fitting each other like two jigsaw pieces.
(One minute.)
Kurt unwillingly pulls away. “I had an amazing…no, a spectacular time,” he tells Sam, prying the other’s arms off of him. “Drop by tomorrow,” he says, before he can slip inside, the hands on Sam’s watch both now pointing to twelve.
Sam sighed; disappointed it ended so abruptly, but immensely pleased with the night as a whole, deeming it a success.
As he was about to turn to head to his car, the door opened again. Kurt was blushing madly, a broad smile on his face. He grabs Sam’s face, murmuring, “I forgot something.”
A tender, slow kiss is planted on Sam, who immediately reciprocates. Kurt moves away, happy with the pleasantly surprised look on Sam’s face. “I love you,” he says.
Sam’s smile comes back full-force. “I love you, too.”