A/N: So I got army!Blaine feels from Rachel endofadream yesterday and this popped into my head and, yeah, not gonna lie, I cried a bit while writing i
Seven years since he's seen his husband. Seven years with only his hand and his memories. Seven years and a bundle of letters and a pair of dog tags delivered to him with a note.
Never forget how much I love you.
The only mark he allows on his skin, the last words his husband wrote to him before his camp was attacked and he went MIA five years ago. A mass grave was found two years and Blaine is officially listed as deceased.
He traces the words on his wrist nightly, Blaine's handwriting written by another's hand, the words forever branded on his skin and in his heart.
Friends have tried to get him to move on, to go on dates, and meet new men.
He considers a second tattoo, just for him to see, on his left hip. It was Blaine's favorite place to touch, to kiss and lick and nip.
His dad understands, he thinks. He's never pressured Kurt to find someone new or clean out Blaine's side of the closet or take off his wedding band. He held Kurt's hand when he got his tattoo and started crying because he just missed Blaine so fucking much.
Seven years without a touch.
Five years without knowing.
Two years without hope.
He knows, he knows that Blaine is gone, that he'll never see him again, never hold his hand or kiss him good morning or fall asleep curled against him or grow old with him. He knows this.
Part of him screams that it's a lie.
The war ended ten months ago. A lot of people didn't come home and a lot came home broken.
Kurt's not sure which is worse.
He goes through the motions each day. Wake up to a big empty bed. Kiss the framed picture of Blaine in his uniform, tall and proud. Shower. Eat. Go to work. Come home. Eat dinner. Blankly stare at the tv for three hours until its time for his nightly skin care routine. Finally, he lays in bed, grabs the picture from his nightstand, and tells Blaine about his day. It's never anything exciting but he gets to pretend that Blaine's there with him, if only for a moment. He can forget that he's gone and act the way they always talked about they would when they were kids, young and dumb and so, so in love. Then it's time to sleep.
The nightmares are mostly gone now, only cropping up on rare occasions. The clench of his heart every morning he wakes up alone never fades.
It's seven years, three months, and six days since he heard a knock on the door and opened it to reveal an officer in pressed class A's, unsmiling and solemn as he informed Kurt that his husband wasn't coming home.
An apology and dog tags mean nothing when your whole world is shattered.
More than one vacation day has been used up with him doing nothing by lying in bed and crying while his heart breaks all over again.
As he readies himself for work, he thinks about the newest guy Rachel is pushing him towards, Geoffrey. He considers going out with him, with moving on.
He laughs because he knows it will never happen.
Blaine is- was-is his soulmate, his everything, his other half. There's no one that could fill the gaping hole in his chest, so why bother?
He's pulling his boots on when there's a knock on the door. His brow furrowed, he makes his way through their house (because it will always be theirs). There, stark against the dark wood of the floor, is a white piece of paper. Thinking it's a flyer, he picks it up, fully prepared to crumple it up and throw it in the trash, when the hand written words catch his eye.
Two words, written in painfully familiar handwriting that he hasn't seen fresh in five years.
His heart clenches painfully, his stomach twisted as he chokes on a sob. He pinches his arm, hard, because he hates these dreams, hates them more than the nightmares because the give him false hope and it hurts so much to wake up and see the empty space beside him, but the pinch hurts too, this is real, oh god, oh go-
There's another knock on the door and he flings it open and, there, on their front porch, decked out in class A's, is Blaine, looking worn and ragged and so much older than when he left, but he's here.
He is here, isn't he?
Kurt's hand trembles as he reaches out, fingertips brushing the fabric.
"Blaine?" he manages to say, voice watery. Blaine's had comes up to grab his and bring it to his cheek, smooth and warm and- "Blaine-" He chokes on the word, but it doesn't matter because he's throwing himself at him, at his husband, his beautiful, alive, warm, here, oh god, he's real, he's home-
"Please tell me this is real, please tell me you're not a dream, please tell me I didn't go insane and you're not just a figment of my imagination," he babbles into Blaine's neck, breathing deep the scent of Old Spice and cinnamon and coffee.
Blaine's arms are tight around him as he murmurs in his ear, "I'm real, honey, I'm here; I'm home."
The tears are falling freely now but he doesn't care, can't care, can't do anything but cling tighter to the one thing he never thought he would have again.
"I'm never leaving you again, I swear," Blaine swears, peppering kisses everywhere he can reach.
"Good luck getting me to let go long enough for you to," Kurt laughs, wet and happy. He pulls back so that he can look at Blaine's face, absorb the lines that weren't there before, the hazel depths that still hold that same sparkle, the tired smile pulling on his lips.
He leans in, sealing their lips together as he kisses Blaine desperately. His bottom lip is sucked into Blaine's mouth, teeth nibbling, and, oh, he's missed this, missed Blaine, missed being touched and held. He steps backwards, into the house, never letting go, never breaking the kiss.
"Wait, baby, wait," Blaine gasps, his lips brushing Kurt's with every word. "My bag, I need-"
Kurt lets him go, his hand trailing down Blaine's arm and tangling their fingers together. He needs to keep touching Blaine, needs to feel his skin because then he knows it's real, Blaine's not going to disappear. He moves with Blaine as he bends to get his bag, dropping it by front door before cupping Kurt's face with his free hand and kissing him so gently, so sweetly, that Kurt feels fresh tears gather behind his closed eyelids and his breath catches.
"How are you here? I thought I lost you forever," he whimpers between kisses, leading them slowly towards their bedroom.
Work is the furthest thing from his mind. He knows they'll understand.
"It's a long story, and I promise to tell it, but right now, I just want this to be you," he kisses him deeply, tongue caressing, "and me."
Kurt nods, pulling him back in for a kiss and letting out a soft noise of surprise when Blaine cups his ass and picks him up. He doesn't miss a beat, his legs coming up to wrap around Blaine's waist. He might look thinner but he's apparently as strong as ever as he carries Kurt the rest of the way.
Blaine places him down on the bed reverently, kneeling between his legs as he takes his time exploring Kurt's mouth. He forgot nothing in his absence, hips rocking slowly against Kurt's while his teeth find that perfect spot in Kurt's neck to make him gasp and buck up.
"Missed you so much," Blaine pants. "Thought of you every day, hated not seeing you, thought I would never get to touch you again-"
He's babbling down, confessions and admissions and adorations and Kurt just takes it all in. It doesn't take long before they're pushing each other's clothes off, hands relearning curves and muscles and tender spots. Kurt winces when he pulls Blaine's undershirt off to reveal his scars, the marks of a battle hard won. He traces each one delicately, wondering about the story behind them but not wanting to stop where they're heading to. It's been seven years since he's been with anyone in this way and he wants nothing to detract from sharing it with the only man he cares about.
He shakes his head, hands moving up so that he cups the back of his husbands' head, pulling him down for a kiss. His fingers card through the shorn curls, massaging his scalp lightly before they fall, over the broad shoulders, down to his slim waist, palming the round cheeks of his ass. He tugs, wanting Blaine to move faster against him, eager to feel him.
"Need you to be naked, now," Blaine growls, and Kurt's world turns until he's straddling Blaine. He blinks down at him, soaking in the smirk, treasuring the dig of fingers into his hips, holding him steady as he hurriedly strips off his shirt. He leans down so that their bare chests are pressed together, gasping at the sensation he never thought he would feel again.
Blaine's hands move between their bodies, trailing down the smooth span of his abdomen to tug at the button of his pants. It slips from the loop easily and then snick of his zipper sliding down follows. Calloused fingers explore his hips, circling around to get under his briefs and cupping his ass roughly. He gasps against Blaine's lips, head dropping to mouth at his neck as he rocks harder against him. He shifts his legs, allowing Blaine to push his pants down, briefs still inside as the fabric falls to the floor.
And then his world turns again and Blaine is hovering over him, keeping the rough fabric of his uniform pants away from Kurt's bare cock, hard and red and desperate between them. He quickly removes them, along with his briefs, and straddles one of Kurt's thighs, leaning down so that he completely covers him, their legs tangling as they begin to move more desperately.
"Please, Blaine, I need you," Kurt says, blinking back more tears. "Please, please-"
Blaine groans into Kurt's neck, his hips stuttering as his chest heaves. "Fuck, I've missed hearing that." He sits up just enough to look Kurt in the face, peppering kisses everywhere as he asks, "Is there lube?"
"Yes, in my drawer." Kurt makes to move but Blaine stops him with a gentle hand on his cheek.
"No, let me." He kisses Kurt once more before moving over the bed, fumbling a bit with the drawer but coming back victorious, half empty bottle in his hand. He drops it beside them as he covers Kurt's body again, bracing himself on his forearms and just looking down at his husband. "I love you so much." He punctuates each word with a kiss, one on each eyelid, the apples of his cheeks, and ending with one on his lips, slow and sweet that builds into more.
Blaine pulls away, making Kurt whine, but he's quick to tip his head back when Blaine's lips trail over his jaw, down his neck, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses in his wake. He nips at Kurt's collarbone, ignoring the metal of the chain that leads to the dog tags he once wore himself, tongue laving over first one nipple, and then the next, and when Kurt's hands come up to tangle in his hair, the black markings on his wrists catch Blaine's eye. He turns his head and Kurt feels his breath hitch as he reads the words. There are tears gathering in the corner of his eyes as he grasps Kurt's arm, running his fingers over the tattoo before placing a kiss over it. He presses his forehead against it, breathing deeply as a lone tear escapes.
"I never thought I would see you again." His voice is rough, gravelly, and Kurt is quick to brush away the wetness. "God, I missed you so much, Kurt, thought about you every day, you're the only thing that kept me going."
Kurt guides his head back so that he can kiss him, tongues sliding against each other. He sucks Blaine's into his mouth, teasing a little with his teeth until they're moving again. "I knew you were alive, I knew it couldn't be true," he murmurs. "I felt it in my heart; you never said goodbye and so you couldn't be gone."
"Never again, never leaving you, never going to say goodbye." Blaine pulls away, staring down at him, eyes watery, but his pupils blown black with lust. "I wanted to take my time, explore every inch of skin that I missed, but-" he breaks off with a chuckle, "-but I don't think I'll last that long."
"God, don't torture me," Kurt says, laughing too. His hand searches for a moment before coming back, lube bottle in hand. "Please, just make love to me."
"For the rest of our lives," Blaine agrees, taking the bottle and moving down Kurt's body, kissing here and there until he's settled between his spread thighs. Kurt immediately bends his legs and lifts his hips as Blaine slides a pillow underneath them. "Do you want me to get a towel?"
Kurt glares down at him playfully. "Do you think I give a damn about the pillowcase at a time like this?"
Blaine laughs and shakes his head, popping open the cap of the lube and pouring some on his fingers. He hesitates for only a moment, looking back up at Kurt. "Have- have you been wi-"
He's shaking his head before Blaine can even finish speaking. "No, it's only ever been you. I-" He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I couldn't bear the thought of anyone touching me like that."
Something hot and possessive uncurls in Blaine's chest and he surges up to kiss him, biting his lip as he presses one finger into Kurt's tight hole. Kurt gasps, clenching around him, and Blaine takes the opportunity to tease Kurt's tongue into his mouth.
Despite the length of time it's been since Kurt's been touched, it doesn't take long before he's begging for more, fucking himself down on Blaine's finger and whining when he adds a second one. He opens easily for Blaine, hips undulating as Blaine adds a third, and then a fourth, for good measure. It's only when he's fucking into him easily, his ass tight and hot around the digits, that Blaine is finally ready. He ignores Kurt's whimper when he eases his fingers out, pouring more lube into his palm and rubbing it on his aching cock.
Kurt doesn't even say anything when he wipes his hand on the bed, just lifts his hips, his hole shiny and gaping and Blaine is quick to line up his cock. Kurt gasps as the blunt head teases his rim for a moment before it's pushing in. He bears down on it, accepting it easily as Blaine fucks into him slowly, easing inch by inch inside until his hips are flush against Kurt's ass. He drops down, forearms bracketing Kurt's head and making him gasp at the change of angle. The kiss is slow and sweet as Blaine begins moving, thrusting lightly, both of them getting used to the feeling all over again.
"You're so beautiful," Blaine whispers, thumb caressing Kurt's cheek. "Please don't cry, my love, you'll make me cry."
Kurt's hand comes up automatically, swiping at the wetness as he lets out a snort of laughter. "I'm sorry."
"Sh, I know, I know." Blaine leans back in, kissing him softly, even as his hips pick up speed. It's not long before Blaine's reaching down, hand circling Kurt's cock and stroking as he fucks him faster and faster. "I'm so close, been too long, fuck, you're so tight," he gasps.
"Me too," Kurt says, his nails digging into Blaine's shoulders, his head tilted back, eyes still locked on Blaine's, peering at him through his eyelashes. "You feel so good in me, Blaine." He moans when Blaine's thumb swipes over his leaking slit.
"I want to see you come," Blaine grunts, hooking Kurt's legs over his shoulders and leaning back, changing the angle until he finds Kurt's prostate. He chokes, his eyes growing wide, and it only takes a few more strokes before he comes, panting and moaning, and that's all it takes for Blaine to follow him, slamming deep inside and coming as his fingers tighten on Kurt's thighs, sure to bruise from his grip.
He falls forward, panting as Kurt holds him close. Their heartbeats slow as they catch their breath and move so they're lying next to each other. Kurt clings to Blaine, arm around his torso and leg hooked over his thighs. It takes Blaine a moment to realize that his shaking isn't from aftershocks or cold, but that Kurt is quietly sobbing into his chest.
"Kurt, baby, what's wrong?" He tries to tip his chin up, but Kurt resists.
"I don't want to wake up, please don't make me," he cries, clinging tighter still. "This is the best dream and I don't want to leave, please."
Blaine's heart breaks and he forces Kurt to look at him. His blue eyes are so clear, so bright with tears. "Kurt, this isn't a dream. I'm here, I'm real, and I'm never leaving again. I've spent too long without you."
Kurt sobs harder, kissing him sloppily. "I love you so much, Blaine."
"I love you too."
Their dog tags clink as they hold each other tighter, neither one anxious to be apart.