Chapter Text
"So," Sam said slowly, "you think I should just go ahead and do Bio II and Chemistry?"
For about the fifth time that afternoon, Kurt found that his train of thought had completely derailed.
"Say that again?" he prompted, blinking.
"Uh." Sam laughed at him, not unkindly. "My science credits."
"Right. They're all jumbled. Sorry. I swear, I don't know what's wrong with me today," said Kurt, trying to focus.
He was really flattered that Sam had come to him for advice, especially as he was of the opinion that everyone could benefit from a little of his advice. Granted, Kurt was just kind of right there, but still. He had become very aware of just how important a good transcript was and was more than happy to help Sam pad his. If he couldn't get into NYADA, he could at least help Sam get into Lima Junior College.
He realized he was still holding Sam's new schedule card and handed it back to him.
"If you think you can keep up with two science classes in one year, I say go with God. Or science. Or whatever you want."
Sam smiled, red lips tucking.
A wave of dizziness swept over Kurt, and again, he found he couldn't think straight.
It was strange to have Sam in his bedroom, strange to see him in his plaid shirt looking so – fresh out of Kentucky. It was strange to know that someone who had made money taking their Village People clothes off for middle-aged ladies was sitting on his tidy bed, looking like a good ol' boy. That was all off.
But something else was off, too. Kurt felt weird. It was a headache, or a stomachache. The flu was going around at McKinley just like every winter.
All at once it swept over him like a heatwave. The feeling burned up in his skin straight from the bone. He'd been sitting with one knee crossed over the other, perched on the edge of his bed and watching Sam lean against his headboard and shuffle around his paltry amount of school stuff, but suddenly, he had to slump back, pushing himself up against the headboard next to Sam and sagging.
"I think I can do all the science," Sam was saying. "It's my favorite subject. But English is really gonna screw me. I didn't read any of the books the rest of the class read already this year and there's gonna be questions about them on the midterm… uh, hey, are you okay?"
"I'm sorry," Kurt mumbled stupidly, pulling at the collar of his shirt. His shoulder was crammed into Sam's. "I think I'm – getting sick—"
Even as he said it, he could feel a heavy flush spreading down his chest, making his nipples perk insistently against the cotton. This was insane. He was going insane, he thought wildly. Or maybe it was a fever – or food poisoning? He couldn't even remember what he had for lunch, but it wouldn't be the first time he could blame a personal crisis on the McKinley High food service staff.
"It's okay," Sam said reassuringly. Strangely, he was the only thing that didn't look blurry; Kurt could make out every detail of his face, from that long, angular nose to the generous bow of his lips.
For some reason he didn't seem even slightly fazed by Kurt having a four-alarm meltdown in front of him – his eyes were sharp, focused, but there was something sympathetic about the tilt of his mouth.
God, his face.
Trying to smother the knee-jerk interest he felt every time Sam entered the room was practically a full-time job, especially now that Sam lived in his house, but it was something he'd grown used to – a hazard of being a teenage boy with too many hormones and too little opportunity for release, since he'd only gotten handsy with his boyfriend a grand total of one and a half times. He knew how to distract himself, how to avoid staring or getting too close or letting his mind wander in any direction that might make him accidentally start blushing at the wrong moment.
He'd already been that gay guy with Finn, and he was never going to do it again.
But it seemed impossible to control with Sam, now more than ever. The fever, or whatever it was, made his brain cling to Sam like he was the only still point in the jumbled, confusing mess that was reality. It had apparently eaten through all his tightly-laced layers of propriety and boundaries, because all he wanted to do was bury his face in Sam's hair and smell it, and – touch him. He really wanted to touch him.
"I'm sorry," he blurted out again, even though Sam obviously didn't have a clue about the perverted direction his thoughts were taking.
It took all of Kurt's strength to lurch up off the bed, but he slumped against the nightstand immediately, grabbing it so quickly the lamp shook and nearly fell to the floor.
"Whoa! Take it easy." Kurt was only marginally aware of Sam getting up, but suddenly he was right there at his side, putting warm, solid hands on his shoulders and steering him back to the bed. "It's okay, dude, just sit down."
"Maybe – I need water," Kurt managed, letting himself slump back on the mattress.
It was getting even harder to think with Sam up in his personal space like that, smelling like some kind of delicious Abercrombie cologne and pink erasers and that particular scent of football players – the grass from the field and sweat and deodorant. It smelled amazing, boyish and fresh and sweet.
"You don't need water," said Sam, seeming a little amused. He eased down next to Kurt, knees apart in a thoughtless sprawl, and looked at him closely. "Do you really… not get what's happening?"
His voice sounded more serious, with a genuine note of confusion in it. For a moment Kurt just blinked at him, wondering when that bored monotone started conveying so much complexity.
"What?" Kurt shook his head, fingers fumbling to open the top button of his shirt. "I think I'm – I've got a fever. I'm not… thinking clearly at all, and God, is it five hundred degrees in here?"
For no discernible reason, Sam lifted a hand and brushed the back of his knuckles against Kurt's cheek.
It could almost pass for a normal let-me-see-if-you're-running-a-fever touch, but it was a little too… lingering and affectionate for that. And it had the instant effect of making Kurt's dick flush half-hard in his pants.
"Oh my God," Kurt said, bewildered and horrified.
Sam smiled again, that guiling, knowing little smile that made his eyebrows perk and his eyes twinkle.
"That's good, right?" he prompted, sounding oddly triumphant. "You want me to keep touching you?"
Kurt was hallucinating. That was the only explanation for this – any of this. He opened his mouth to say as much, but all that came out was a stressed, embarrassed whimper.
Suddenly Sam was all over him at once – a hand wrapped around his hip and pulled him over like he weighed nothing, bringing their bodies together until he was tucked right up against Sam's side. His hand came to rest on Sam's chest automatically, his breaths hitching when Sam leaned in and brushed their faces close together.
It felt so good it almost hurt.
It did hurt, a little – somewhere deep inside Kurt's chest, something that he'd buried ages ago and tried to not think about ever since burned with how badly he wanted this. He wanted to touch back – throw caution to the wind and pull Sam right on top of him. Every instinct in him was screaming to do it, take it, touch that skin that was so close.
"I knew it," Sam murmured, and then – then he tilted his head, tucked his nose just under Kurt's jaw, and smelled him.
"Wh – what?" Kurt puffed out, unable to stop his head from tilting to give Sam better access, or his dick from flushing even harder in his jeans. It was already way beyond any kind of explainable, understandable third period stiffy you mask with your Chem book – he was hard.
"I knew it," Sam repeated happily, nosing his way back to Kurt's hair and pulling in another long, slow breath. "I knew you were like me. It freaked me out at first, how fast you found me – but I guess we're just made to do that, you know?"
"Not even a little." Kurt's fingers fisted in Sam's shirt for a moment and then slid upwards, his arm winding around Sam's neck before he could even think about what he was doing.
Apparently that was the wrong thing to do, because Sam pulled back suddenly, studying his face intently. A fresh blush crept up Kurt's cheeks.
He was so lost. And turned on. He was really turned on.
"You don't know," Sam said. "You really don't, do you? I thought – but—"
He pressed his generous, ridiculously pretty lips together, gaze sliding to the side.
"Oh my God, Sam," Kurt finally burst, the force of his breath making the words come out in a huff. "Just tell me what you're talking about. What's – happening right now?"
Sam looked back at him again, green eyes wide and sensitive.
"You're in heat," he said slowly, dragging his hand up Kurt's back. "I guess for the first time?"
"I – heat?" Kurt echoed vaguely, distracted by the pressure of Sam's fingers through his shirt.
"You're super horny right now, right?" Sam asked, sounding bizarrely matter-of-fact about it. "Like everything is turning you on, and you just can't stop it? And you can't keep all these sexy thoughts out of your head, and you feel like you're gonna just blow in your pants any minute?"
As much as Kurt's brain was shorting out, he could tell that Sam had just given him an unfairly accurate description of what was going on. He blinked a few times, trying to scrape together enough sense to use words.
"Yeah, that's – putting it mildly."
Sam smiled again, pulling Kurt's gaze back down to his mouth.
"You're totally in heat," he said, somehow managing to pull Kurt in even closer. It was dizzying, being able to smell him and feel that brawny, muscular chest pressing right up against his own. Kurt's nipples ached where they were trapped against the cotton of his shirt, throbbing with that pathetic amount of sensation. He could feel the rumble of Sam's voice in his body before he even heard it. "Come on, this can't be the first time you've noticed there was something different about you. It's feline, gotta be. You probably have crazy good night vision, right? You can see stuff in the dark without turning on a light? And you're all… bendy. I've seen it during dance rehearsal. You can probably jump really high."
"I was a… Cheerio last year," Kurt offered dazedly, not really following.
It was true; he had a pretty uncanny ability to navigate through dark rooms. He could just kind of sense where things were, sixth sense style. And he was limber, sure. Coach Sylvester had him doing high kick jumps off the tops of pyramids at the All-National Cheerleading Invitationals. But none of that was connected – it was just stuff about him.
Feline. Sam used the word feline.
"Are you saying I'm—" Kurt couldn't even get the words out. This was a fever; this had to be a fever. He was going to wake up soon and chug some Day-Quil and marvel over this insane dream. "Some kind of…"
"Cat," Sam said simply. "I mean, not, like, totally. Obviously. It's just in your genes. I can't believe your parents didn't talk to you about it… I guess your mom passed away when you were little, right?"
"Seven," Kurt said distractedly, dropping his forehead against Sam's shoulder. None of this was making any sense.
"She must've been the one, then. It can be passed on with just one parent who's – you know, different. God." Sam was smelling him again, Kurt realized with a tummy-clenching surge of arousal. He could feel Sam's face sliding up against his hair, the pointy jut of his nose pressing in under the feathered, sprayed-up layers. His lips ended up right next to Kurt's ear, so his breaths tickled in a warm little whisper. "I've been scenting you since the day I got back. Your… pheromones." The word sounded awkward in Sam's mouth, but for some reason even that was hot. "I knew it was coming. 'S been driving me crazy. I can barely deal when you're walking down the hall, but when we're in the same room…" He let out a gusty little sigh that made the hair on Kurt's arms stand up. "You're all I can think about. I gotta sit with my arms over my lap in glee club just to hide what's going on in my jeans."
His voice lilted with amusement on that last bit, and it was so sexy Kurt gave another involuntary little moan. It took a second before he could bring himself to speak, his fingers wrapping around the back of Sam's neck for support.
"So you – you're… feline, too?" he finally said, the words sounding so much more ridiculous when he said them.
"Nope. Canine. That's why I can smell you so well. I knew what you were as soon as we met. I thought you knew what I was, too… It can happen, though. People like us just being drawn to each other without knowing why."
"I just thought you were ridiculously hot," Kurt muttered. "And gay."
Sam busted out a laugh and tipped him back on the bed, the bedroom becoming a wild blur of cool neutrals until Kurt was on his back, staring up at Sam dizzily.
"Maybe you just thought that was why," Sam suggested, nuzzling in against his neck again. He groaned, the noise much deeper and more dignified than Kurt's own high, breathy ones.
"You can really… smell me?"
It was an awkward movement, but Sam managed to nod without pulling back His voice came out muffled, lips moving right against Kurt's throat. "It's so good. It's even better like this, up close. Without anything else in the way. I can smell… your hair stuff, and your skin, and – how much you like this."
"Really?"
Somehow, in the midst of all of this, Kurt could apparently still managed to feel embarrassed.
"Mm," Sam hummed. "It's coming off of you even stronger now. God, I can smell this—"
The hand at Kurt's side slid over suddenly, Sam's long fingers fumbling over his fly and gripping at the outline of his dick, shaping it through the denim.
Kurt's hips jerked up involuntarily as a crazy, overwhelming rush of heat swept through his body. It was a clumsy, desperate grope, but it set his nerves ablaze, like his entire body was suddenly one big erogenous zone – everywhere they touched felt good, from Sam's chin against his collarbone all the way down to the knee butting up against his thigh.
"Oh my – God," he whimpered when Sam's hand finally eased away, both disappointed and relieved at the sudden reprieve. Sam's hand grazed up his stomach, which still felt oddly, overwhelmingly tingly.
"So hot," Sam mumbled, sounding a little awestruck. "Already getting wet…"
It took Kurt's overheated brain a second to piece together that Sam was referring to the precome slicking his boxer-briefs. It took another second for him to grasp what that meant.
"You can – smell that?" he demanded, voice straining so high it was up in the stratosphere.
"I can smell it all over you at school… when you jerk off in the morning," Sam sighed. "When your come gets on your hands, and… here."
He rubbed at a low spot on Kurt's stomach, almost covetously.
Kurt's dick gave another desperate throb in his jeans, his hips straining up until he was just shamelessly trying to rub himself against Sam, arching all the way off the bed. It was possibly the most embarrassing thing he'd ever heard – and there was some stiff competition for that title – but it was hot, too. His body didn't even know how to process those two feelings, both of them burning under his skin and making it flush heavily.
"Oh my God," he repeated, barely aware of the way his body was squirming under Sam's, seeking out more friction. "Oh my God, Sam."
Sam lifted his head then, almost like he was responding to hearing his name. His face was flushed when it came swimming back into view, his wide, round eyes looking a little glassy.
"Do you – do you wanna do this?" he said, shifting his weight to his hands. It made the muscles in his shoulders flex under Kurt's hands in a way that was a little swoon-inducing. His face was serious, though, like he was struggling to get the words out. "I don't wanna, like. Pressure you, or – take advantage of the fact you're – you know—"
"In heat?" Kurt supplied. It still sounded ridiculous, but the more Sam touched him, the more it seemed like the only applicable term.
"Yeah." Sam let out a sigh that seemed full of pent-up frustration. "I mean, you can't really make… decisions…"
"What would happen to me if we didn't?" Kurt managed, his hips still trying to thrust up against Sam's. "Because it feels – like I'm going to explode—"
Sam gave another little laugh, although that weirdly intense look didn't leave his eyes. "You wouldn't. You'd probably just jerk off more than you ever did in junior high, and be sorta… out of it for a day or so."
"God, why are you even asking me?" Kurt slumped back against the bed, fingers flexing against Sam's arms. It was rising in him like a tide, now that he'd had a little taste of what he wanted: a crazy rush of lust that was steam-rolling his usual, ever-present self-consciousness right out of existence. "I want it – I want you, I've wanted this since – last year."
For some reason that made a pleased little smile steal over Sam's face, complementing the flush in his cheeks nicely.
"Really?"
"Yes." Kurt was full-on panting now, his dick straining so hard against his fly it was starting to ache. Blaine seemed like a distant childhood memory or a daydream Kurt had during class and then mostly forgotten. "Don't you…? I mean, are you really just going to – to smell me and leave?"
"No, I just—" Sam moved suddenly, pushing himself into a kind of sitting position on his knees. When Kurt tipped his chin to look at him, he could suddenly see the bulge of Sam's dick against his own zipper. It looked obscenely huge, totally obvious where it was tucked up against his hip.
"What is it?" Kurt said desperately. "Is it the gay thing?"
"No." Sam pressed his lips together again and looked away. The more Kurt stared at him, the more he could see the tension in his posture; he was barely holding himself together, like it was paining him to not just… oh. He really wanted it, too. Sam shut his eyes after a second, seeming to force the words out. "I can't just, like, jerk off with you. I mean, I'll leave, if you want me to, but – the more I touch you and, yeah, smell you, the more this is going to get really hard for me. Uh, literally. It's bad enough when I just get a whiff of you, but I'm so fucking turned on right now, and I just want to fuck you—"
Kurt's vision was beginning to swim again; he would barely have been able to put his finger on it, but suddenly hearing that made it so obvious. That – that was what he wanted. Just thinking about it was making his dick throb out another pulse of precome.
Bizarrely, he could tell that Sam knew it – he could see it on his face, the hazy flicker of arousal that slackened his features before he seemed to forcibly pull himself back together.
"It's okay," Kurt said, reaching to tug at the front of Sam's t-shirt. "I want it, too. I mean, I've never – but that sounds so good – I want everything."
"If we do it, it'll be… different," Sam said uncertainly. "It's gonna last a while. Like, an hour or so."
Kurt couldn't help it; his hands scrabbled down between them, fingers desperately tugging open the button of his jeans. He let out a little sob of relief when his dick finally had more room, because the very idea of Sam fucking him for an hour straight was making it flush even harder.
"Stop giving the pitch when you've already made the sale," he panted, reaching for the front of Sam's jeans. "I want it – so badly—"
Sam's hand caught Kurt's, his eyes still shut and his face frozen in that strange mixture of arousal and tension.
"It's a – dog thing," he said, almost apologetically. "Just… don't freak out?"
"Sam," Kurt groaned, feeling like he might actually burst into tears of pure frustration. "Just touch me. I feel like I'm dying. There is literally nothing – nothing – about you that would make me want to stop. I want you, just you, and I need you right now."
Sam's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and then his resolve seemed to shatter all at once. He released Kurt's hand and leaned in abruptly, looking at him for a second and then covering his mouth in a cushy, desperate kiss.
It was… possibly the single most blissful thing Kurt had experienced. Ever. In a distant, foggy way he thought he might understand what Sam meant about smell, because the second their tongues brushed together he could taste him. Not in that weird, slightly gross way he'd experienced with Brittany, just noticing the last flavors that had been in someone else's mouth, but – he could really taste Sam, pulling him in through that sense just as strongly and obviously as if he were looking at him. Colors and smells exploded in his head, giving him blurry but technicolor impressions of the shower – football gear – summer tans. It was like a disconnect between the way Sam looked and the way he smelled joined up and became a solid, heady realization of just who he was in Kurt's mind. His tongue felt senstive, eager.
Kurt lapped at Sam's tongue and gave another soft, high-pitched groan, tugging Sam's jeans open with hands that were starting to shake.
"Have you done this before?" he said, his voice coming out in a whisper.
Sam shook his head, sending his shaggy hair flopping artlessly over his forehead.
"I've never known anyone who would get it. This – what we do together, it's not just, uh, sex. It's mating."
Mating.
The word hit him all at once, making his breath catch with how right it felt. He wanted that. He wanted to mate. With Sam. Sam. It didn't seem real, and yet it was also the most real and visceral truth he'd ever comprehended.
"Oh," he managed. "Does that mean we're…?"
"Mates," Sam said softly, the words a warm puff against Kurt's cheek. "I mean, not… forever. I don't know how long it lasts, but it kind of connects us, I guess. For a while."
The idea of that pulled at something inside of him he didn't understand. He liked Sam, obviously – they were friends, what was happening right there on Kurt's bed and Sam's apparent love for plastic cups notwithstanding – but for some reason that idea felt overwhelmingly good.
"How?"
Sam let out a slow breath, shaking his head a little, gaze still looking glassy.
"Like, sensing each other? Picking up each other's scents, although… I don't know how I could pick up on yours more than I already am. And I guess there's just kind of, you know, something emotional about it."
Kurt's face throbbed with heat. "Oh?"
"I mean, like, on a sort of… animal instinct level? Uh." Sam's face tucked in against Kurt's neck again, and his cheek felt hot. "Not to, like, freak you out, but I think that's why I Hulked out on Karofsky that one time. I just sorta… zeroed in on you in that way, so I couldn't help it. Some part of my brain just… picked you."
"To be your mate," Kurt said dizzily. "You picked me to… be your mate."
"Is that okay?" Sam said, actually sounding nervous. "I didn't mean to, like, claim you, or something. It just happened."
Kurt shook his head and let out another ragged little whimper, arching his body up under Sam's. "It's… incredibly romantic, in a really bizarre way."
Sam huffed; Kurt didn't know whether he was amused or if the push of his body had made him respond like that.
"I think so too," he mumbled, lips rubbing in an achingly soft slide against Kurt's throat and prickling every hair on his body. "God, Kurt, I just – I don't wanna scare you, but – I'm trying so hard not to just—"
"Please, Sam. Oh, God, please." Kurt's voice broke, his whimper hit so high. "I need you to fuck me!"
Sam groaned inarticulately, sharp and pained as if Kurt had kneed him in the stomach.
"Please," Kurt begged, sensing that Sam was finally close to letting go of the restraint Kurt had no idea how he was showing. His spine was bending under Sam in a needy squirm. He felt like he was losing his mind. "Oh, please, please. Sam. There's lube in my drawer. I want you to – fuck me, like you said—"
God, he was going to come just thinking about it; he felt like his dick was sopping in his underwear, drooling hot slippery blurts of precome incessantly for Sam. For his mate.
Sam fumbled between them, and excitement shot through Kurt's veins as he realized Sam was unbuckling his belt in a rush. He lifted his head and the entire world seemed to narrow to the sight of Sam's fingers trembling on the metal of his buckle and the huge tent pitched in his jeans. It made Kurt feel like he was going to pass out just seeing the press of it against denim. He couldn't believe he was going to get to see it – that it was so big and hard. He'd jerked Blaine off, but it was nothing compared to this, somehow. Kurt couldn't remember it through the fever.
He practically shook there on the mattress as Sam abandoned his open fly, revealing a gape of white, stretched-out briefs, and breathed, "Touch it?"
Kurt reached for it instantly.
For a second it was just utterly incomprehensible, the heat and stiff curve of it against Kurt's palm, but then something unexplainable clicked in him and Kurt had to moan, because it felt so right, so good, somehow so familiar. It was Sam. It was Sam just as much as those full pink lips, that bottle-blond hair, the smell of his skin and cologne was. His brain seemed to suddenly have fully-formed knowledge of just how it should feel to touch him. It was like sliding into some place he should have been all along. He gave an earnest squeeze and Sam groaned back at him, which just made Kurt's dick and body both strain in desperation.
"Do you feel it?"
"God, it's huge," Kurt breathed, stroking his fingers hungrily.
Sam exhaled responsively.
"I'm – knotting up pretty big already. It's just, I want… I want to mate with you so bad, I can't help it," he said, as if ashamed. Kurt, partially glazed and pretty sure he was a hair away from just shooting his wad without ever even getting to see Sam's bare dick, blinked several times. All he could hear there for a hot moment was that Sam wanted to mate with him.
Then it seemed to snap into his brain like another neural pathway had blazed to life, illuminating something for him so fully that he would never be able to unsee or unknow it.
Canine, Sam had said. It's a dog thing.
Kurt's senses, already on hyper-overdrive, lit up all at once and jammed almost violently into one another.
"Oh my God," he uttered blankly. "You can't be serious."
He groped into Sam's open fly and, even though he already knew it was true, just feeling through the cotton the blatant bulge of Sam's knot suddenly flaring roundly at the end of his dick slammed shut the door of possibility of anything other than this, the two of them, this way. Sam was going to shove this thing in him. His body already knew what it was begging for; it was only now that Kurt's brain knew it.
"Please," Kurt whispered, tugging at the swollen-feeling bulge clumsily. His vision was quickly going completely blurry. "Please, Sam."
"We'll be stuck together," Sam groaned.
"Fuck, I wanna be stuck on your dick," Kurt managed. "I want it so bad, all of this, in me—"
"God, Kurt." Now Sam was shoving at his jeans, pushing them down his hips, underwear snagging in his fingers until the knot that Kurt was clinging to, rubbing, popped out, firm at the base of a gorgeous red shaft. For a hot second he let Kurt stare, then he urged, "Pull your pants down."
Shuddering, Kurt wrangled his pants and wriggled them down to his knees, baring his wet hipbones and thighs and hard dick. He wasn't as big as Sam anyway, but particularly with the knot visibly round there at the end of Sam's cock, the difference seemed so extreme to him that he whimpered just thinking about it. He was wet, too, sticky, his dick leaking clear fluid in short, excited pulses along with his heartbeat.
Sam planted a hand on his chest, leaning in and taking a jerking breath.
"Can you smell—?" Kurt asked, knowing full well Sam could smell everything from the blood heating his skin red to the precome his belly was covered in.
"I'm gonna knot you," Sam responded, low and heated and certain.
Kurt convulsed.
"Roll over."
Sam's heat eased up behind him as Kurt tipped himself onto his side, quickly making up for the odd feeling of not being able to see him by putting his body snugly up against Kurt's and making him feel sledgehammered enough with sheer arousal to cry out. Everywhere he could feel the strength of Sam's muscles, the poke of knees and hipbones, the heat of his skin. Sam's cock was touching his bare ass cheek, leaning hot and heavy against it, and he could feel Sam's knot sitting there. It was overwhelming and Sam wasn't even fucking him yet.
After a moment, something wet touched his ass, and he could feel Sam bending to smell the middle of his back through his shirt.
"You should be ready," Sam commented off-handedly. Kurt wanted to just die already. He was beyond ready. He'd been ready all this time, and all these years, for someone who understood him and wanted him, for his mate. For Sam. He'd had no idea until mere minutes ago, but it had always, always been Sam.
When Sam opened him up with one slicked-up finger it was only a shock because it felt good, and he wanted it, and yet it wasn't enough.
"Sam!" he whimpered.
"Does that hurt?" Sam wanted to know. He was so warm, and pumping his slick finger in Kurt effortlessly.
"No," squeaked Kurt. The truth of Sam's finger in him was a twofold feeling of unfamiliar strangeness and pure frustration. It felt wrong in some minor way, but much more right than wrong. More than anything, he just needed it. His body was crying out at him in waves of heat for something bigger, thicker. "No, it feels good – but I want more."
"You're ready," Sam groaned in his ear.
"Yes," Kurt hissed, seizing on the idea. He could feel it as Sam's hips bucked against him gently, and Kurt squirmed back. "Please!"
"You're ready for me," Sam seemed to repeat, sounding dizzily taken with the idea. "You wanna be my mate."
Kurt felt sucker-punched and flattened and shot into the stratosphere. His cock twitched, letting off a wild spurt of precome over his own bedsheets. It was the best thing he'd ever heard. Mate! Sam wanted to be his mate, wanted him to be his mate. For such a new idea, one he would have found weird that morning, it now seemed to be the one all-consuming thing that mattered to him and everything else was distant, unimportant, just nothing compared to the idea of finally knowing what he was going to be.
"God, Sam!" he whispered desperately. "God, please!"
Sam took his finger back. Kurt couldn't spare even a split-second of thought towards dignity. He gasped and his body arched wildly all on its own as Sam pressed his dick in, opening him up around it with a slow insistent stretch of his muscles. It only distantly hurt. Sam was right. His body seemed not only completely prepared for the intrusion but hungry for it. Gripping him by the hip, Sam slid in smooth, slick with lube, and paused only when the threat of his knot was there against Kurt's aching hole.
Kurt blew out a huge breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. It felt so good he couldn't believe it, but – still, incomplete.
"Don't stop," he pleaded in an amazed whisper.
"What?"
"Your… your knot," Kurt gasped. He felt a dim flush of embarrassment just saying it out loud, which, at this point, just seemed unnecessary. But it was ridiculous and he still couldn't believe it. The fact that he was in heat was easy to buy; he could feel it, he was living it. He was either in heat or absolutely insane or dying, literally an hour away from just expiring from the burn and need.
But Sam had a knot. Like a dog. And Kurt wanted it in him.
"Don't worry, you're gonna get it," Sam said, managing to sound reassuring and sexy at the same time. He swiveled his hips clumsily, cock dragging wetly through the grip of Kurt's ass and then pushing back in, and Kurt forgot how to speak or even move or do anything other than feel Sam fucking him, finally fucking him. For a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, punctuated solely by the feel of Sam sliding in him right to the teasing swell of his knot, Kurt hung in a blind edge.
Then he exploded.
He came so hard he almost arched right off Sam's dick again, and Sam caught him with quick reflexes, one hand on Kurt's hip and the other grasping the back of his neck. Come shot out of him like a geyser, in almost painful pulses like he'd never felt before. Each one was orgasmic relief but barely scratched the itch. And it didn't stop after three or four jerks of his balls and belly. It didn't let off. He couldn't seem to help it or stop coming at all.
He just sobbed, and Sam breathed, "Yeah, you need it – yeah, Kurt, come on, come on my dick. God, I can smell it coming out of you," and Kurt almost yowled.
As fast as it hit him, it stopped, leaving Kurt's cock red and twitching, flinging droplets of come onto the already thoroughly spattered sheets and onto his own belly. But it was like just getting a hit of something. Kurt could feel down to the bones that he wasn't done. Not even close.
"Oh my God," he gasped, trembling. For a long moment he was barely even aware of Sam curled around him, lost in a confusing haze of drawn-out arousal while still huffing through the lingering sensation of all that pleasure.
Gradually, he realized Sam's fingers were still gripping his hip tightly, holding him in place. The bulge of his knot was right there at his hole, thick and hot. He couldn't help squirming a little, the loud, insistent urge to get it inside of him still totally overwhelming.
"Is it even bigger?" he managed, both incredulous and impressed.
"Yeah," Sam said with a little laugh. "It's gonna get bigger than this, too, so I need to get it in you. But you should be relaxed enough to take it now. Just try to calm down a little – you're, like, tensing up every time you move."
"I can't." Calm was about the last state of mind on Kurt's horizon. Already, those white-hot sparks of pleasure were starting to lick through him again, making his balls ache with the urge to blow another load. "I just need it, you don't – understand, I have to get it – we have to do this—"
"Shh," Sam murmured, rocking his hips again. It was a shallower thrust than before, more of a grind there against Kurt's ass. It made his breath hitch, and Sam muffled a throaty groan against Kurt's shoulder. "I'm right here, okay, Kurt? I'm gonna give you what you need. Just take a deep breath."
Kurt did, the sound of his name in Sam's big clumsy mouth giving his mind something else to concentrate on, but the moment Sam began to press in deeper, he knew it was pointless. His body was so ready for this, ready to open wide and give it all up to this boy. It knew it in a way he was only starting to grasp, and before he could blow that breath back out, his ass was stretching wide around the thick swell of Sam's knot.
"Aw, yeah," Sam groaned mindlessly, lips damp and warm against Kurt's shoulder.
He was moving slowly, but it only took a second for it pop right through the ring of Kurt's hole, the slickness of the lube snapping wetly. And then they were just – connected.
The sense of relief that hit Kurt was overwhelming, almost as good as coming again. He was finally full, totally full of Sam's cock. Taking all of it. Being knotted.
"Oh my God," he whispered again, face throbbing with a flush that just wouldn't quit. "Sam, we're—"
"Tied," he said lowly, still rocking his hips against Kurt's ass in short, gentle little strokes. His knot kept him from pulling out, but Kurt could feel it rocking inside of him with the movement, the head of Sam's dick nudging in deep.
It was getting bigger, he realized – it seemed to swell a little more each time Sam ground against him. It was probably already too big to come out.
"Are you – you know?" Kurt breathed, voice sounding high and needy to his own ears. "Coming?"
"Y—yeah," Sam huffed shakily, tipping his face in closer to Kurt's neck, forehead resting on his jaw.
His cock gave a little jerk where it was settled snugly in Kurt's ass, the knot throbbing gently, and Kurt's breath hitched as he realized he was actually feeling it. It happened again after a few seconds, picking up a rhythm of its own; Sam's cock was throbbing out bursts of jizz deep inside of him, over and over.
"Do you just keep doing that?" he marveled. "The whole time?"
Sam lifted his face, dragging the tip of nose up over Kurt's cheek. That oddly knowing, teasing note of amusement crept back into his voice, but it was shot with the force of his breaths. "That's the idea. We only untie when it stops."
The very idea made a wild, feral thrill roil in Kurt's stomach. It was so fucking weird – he wasn't past recognizing that – but it was hot, too, the idea that they were stuck together. Tied. Sam was just going to keep him here like this, hot and horny and sticky with come, until their bodies decided they were done mating.
"Wow," he said blankly.
"Is it okay?" Sam slid his hand up under Kurt's shirt, his warm palm resting low on his stomach. "God, you feel so good."
"It's exactly what I wanted," Kurt said honestly, shifting his hips to rub back against Sam, feeling that knot move inside him again. It made Sam suck in a sharp breath, and his own dick throbbed again, still hard. "I want you to give me all of it. I want to take – everything, all of you."
Sam moaned, short and low; Kurt could feel the moan right up against his spine, and shuddered.
"You do? You want all this come I got for you?"
"Oh my God," Kurt whispered, a wince of abject arousal making his hole flex of its own accord – or at least, it tried to, but Sam's knot had stretched him wide around it inside and all he did was make Sam rock into him harder. He really was stuck. He really was getting knotted. Sam was letting off continuous loads in him, every heartbeat pulsing out more. Could he even take this?
It was a stupid question. His body was already taking this. And his mind… it was stretching to fit, too, because the knowledge that Sam was going to keep him tied and taking it – for like, an hour – was perfect somehow.
He sighed deeply, and Sam rubbed his stomach, sighing back and smearing Kurt's own come into his skin. Arousal crawled up through Kurt endlessly and he whimpered for almost no reason. Just the slightest stroke of Sam's hand was enough to make his dick jump, let alone the way he could feel Sam unloading in him without pause, getting his insides sloppy with come.
"Please," he whispered pointlessly.
"What, Kurt?" Sam asked. His nose attentively brushed Kurt's cheek and his breath was warm in Kurt's ear; Kurt could practically taste Sam in his mouth, his breath and lips were so close.
"I want it," Kurt answered, eyes fluttering shut. "I want it so bad. All your come. All of it. In me."
"You need me to breed you good, huh?" Sam asked knowingly.
A mild shock raced through Kurt's skin.
"Breed," he repeated, half confused and half morbidly sure that he was not supposed to like the sound of that. "You can't… breed me, Sam, I'm not…"
Sam just moaned and clutched at him in a proprietary way.
"You're my mate," he whispered, and with another small choke of pleasure, he sniffed at Kurt's hair. "I smell it. I smell that heat. I smell my come in you, making you my mate. Anybody like me would be able to smell it coming off you thirty feet away. They'd smell you'd been taken care of and smell you're mated and you belong to me…"
"Sam," Kurt gaped, startled by the sheer power of everything Sam was saying. He fumbled stupidly for his dick, catching it wet and hard and hot and jerking at it desperately.
"Are you gonna come again?" Sam asked, sounding surprised somehow.
Kurt bit his lip, arm working in hard little tugs; he didn't know if the fact that his dick wasn't going down was normal or not, and maybe, as much as he knew about heat and all this crazy mating stuff, Sam didn't know either…
"I can't help it!" he wound up crying out.
"Come," Sam panted shortly. The directness of it hit Kurt right in the heart. "Come while I'm knotting your ass."
This time Sam's arm tightened and held him perfectly in place on his knot, hip-to-hip, while a scream tore in Kurt's throat and he came again, all over his own hand and Sam's arm and the puddle of jizz he'd already left right in front of him on his bed. He could vaguely hear the wet smacking of his own dick in his fingers and could feel his meat pulsing around each load in a weird tandem to the way Sam was slowly letting off inside him.
He came so much that he knew it had to be abnormal, because he'd never come so hard or copiously as he'd come since, uh, this whole heat thing had kicked in, but it was somehow only right.
Kurt's body shuddered then seemed to calm again, dick dripping a final slobbering dribble of come, and Sam said fiercely, "Yes."
"I… still feel weird, I don't think it's stopping," Kurt whimpered, feeling half-hysterical with the flare of heat that simply leapt back to life in him, unstoppable, unquenchable.
"Yeah," Sam agreed throatily.
"You're knotting me," Kurt uttered. His brain was starting to slip apart in his skull.
"Yeah, I am. Just coming inside you so much," Sam breathed. "Do you like it?"
"Yes. I love it," Kurt managed. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, his one tie to reality Sam. And they were literally tied. And he had never, never felt anything even remotely comparable. He babbled, "You're making me so full of you – you're making me smell like you – I want to come just thinking about it…"
"God, yeah," Sam said, his breath hitching. "You think you can? Again?"
"I know I'm going to – I know it," he admitted, somehow mortified even under the layer of heavy heat that was smothering him still, alive and keeping his dick at constant attention.
"I want you to," Sam said. "God, you don't know…"
Understatement. What didn't Kurt know? He panted, "Tell me… tell me, I can take it."
"You don't know how this feels for me," Sam sighed, breath warm and intimate in Kurt's ear. "Feeling you take this gigantic freakin' knot… I knew you could, but actually feeling it, it's huge in you now, and you just came with it in you… I didn't know if, like, maybe it would just hurt you – but now you're saying you're gonna come again with it in you. I just didn't know it would be like this. It's so —" He choked again. "So intense."
Kurt's mind buzzed. It was intense for Sam too? It seemed like it couldn't possibly be; Kurt was the one going off like fireworks, delirious, like he might not come out on the other side of this sane. Sam seemed so calm and together. But Sam was coming in him… tied to him, still, mating with him in a drawn-out way that held them both captive to it.
"I know," he said, voice small. He was dizzy from the pounding of blood in his body, pinkening his skin and keeping his dick stubbornly hard. His senses, which had already seemed sharper than usual lately, seemed completely tuned in to Sam – the smell of his sweat, the low, throaty rumble of his voice, the way they were touching everywhere. Even inside. "I don't understand – any of this, but you—" He broke off, momentarily unsure of what he was even saying. "You make me feel like it's all okay."
"It is," Sam said simply, holding him tighter. He rocked them a little, making Kurt overwhelmingly aware of how wet he was getting and how deep Sam's cock was. "We're okay now, 'cause we found each other. I was here when it happened… like I was supposed to be."
Kurt had no idea if that was just Sam painting it in romantic terms, or if that was the reality of the situation – they found each other, this was how it was supposed to be – but it made a sharp swell of emotion cut through the haze of physical arousal.
"You're my mate," he muttered, tipping his face back to rub clumsily at Sam's. "We're really – I mean, after this is over, we'll still be—"
"Yeah." Sam tilted his face a little, a lock of that shaggy, dyed hair falling across one eye. The flush in his cheeks made them seem bright, even greener than usual. "You feel that, right?"
It shocked him to realize that he did feel it, somewhere in that complicated tangle. The idea of doing this with someone else – knot or no – made his mind recoil. It was just unthinkable when he was this wrapped up in Sam, held by one strong arm, moving with the rise and fall of Sam's breaths, feeling Sam's dick throb steadily in his ass, claiming him with those loads of come.
Somewhere on the heels of that was another, even more unsettling thought.
"You can't," he blurted, eyes going wide as he grabbed at Sam's forearm with a hand still sticky from his own come. "You can't do this with someone else, Sam – not like this. I don't know how I could – I couldn't mate with anyone else after all of this with you—"
It was insane to care so much, when he and Sam weren't even dating. They weren't anything to each other but occasional study buddies and fellow glee club members, up until fifteen minutes ago. But it made something in him ache to even think about Sam claiming someone else like this. Or letting someone else claim him, because it felt like surely Kurt was doing that in some way.
He could feel more than hear a low rumble in Sam's chest, vibrating against his spine. It was audible after a moment, but barely. Just a deep, throaty hum, like—
"Are you growling?" he huffed in disbelief.
Sam's eyes – as much as Kurt could see of them – narrowed, and his lips twisted to the side in a scowl.
"I'm not mating with anyone else," he said thickly, a funny flicker of tension going through his body. Kurt could feel it everywhere, from the inside out. "And neither are you. There isn't anyone else for either of us. We're connected now. I'm yours and you're mine, we're a – pair, even if we can't really breed. That's how it works. It's – science, like, the way our bodies work. We're mated, so if I did knock you up, we'd stay together."
"Oh," Kurt said dizzily. He wasn't sure what part of that was hitting him the hardest: the fact they were really and truly connected now, or that odd, inapplicable comment about him getting knocked up. Even though it was absurd – hello, he was still a guy, freaky cat DNA notwithstanding – it still tugged fiercely at the part of him that instinctively believed what Sam said about heat and instinctively knew it needed that knot the moment he saw it. He saw it clearly in a split-second, no matter how odd it was. Mating, breeding – this was all about making babies, starting a family. Christ, Sam was part dog. He probably had it in him to breed a whole shaggy, tow-headed Evans pack. "Good. That's – what I want. That's all I want. Just getting… bred by you."
Saying it out loud made his dick throb, and he reached for it again blindly. He wasn't going to have any jizz left in him by the end of this hour, he thought wildly, giving a high-pitched little groan as he fisted it.
Before he could give it more than a couple of strokes, Sam's hand groped down to bat his out of the way – and then suddenly his big, long-fingered hand was curling around Kurt's achy dick.
Kurt turned his face against the blanket, sucking in a wet, shuddery breath. That single touch was almost too much. It might have made him come close to losing it even if he were the same normal teenage boy he'd been a week ago.
"You like that, huh?" Sam said. He didn't sound fierce, like he did before, but more like he was slowly putting something together in his mind. "Me breeding you? Even though you're a boy?"
He couldn't help his frantic, embarrassed nod or the gush of precome (if it could even still be called that) that gushed from his slit, feeling a little like his body was betraying him.
"I can't help it," he said in a tortured little whimper. "I want that. Every part of me wants it, Sam. Just hearing you say it – idea of you – knocking me up—"
Just like that, he lost it again, the muscles of his stomach flexing sorely with the intensity of it. This time his load spattered all over Sam's hand, which wrung it out of him mercilessly, like he knew exactly how Kurt wanted to be touched.
"Yeah, come, come just thinking about it – me knocking you up. You want me to mate you till you're knocked up more than anything, don't you," Sam murmured tightly in his ear, and was rewarded with a weak needy gasp and an extra pulse of come that dripped down over his hand and onto the mattress wetly. Everything just smelled thicky like come and body heat and sweat and ass and something primal that Kurt knew was their smells twisting up into one.
For a hazy second Kurt's brain fuzzed over into some vague hope. If Sam could have a knot and Kurt could be in heat, couldn't they… couldn't Sam…
"Oh, Sam," he hitched, aching and reeling and beyond caring about something as unimportant as what his dad or stepmom or anyone would say if Sam did knock him up. The idea was too powerful, too pleasurable, like if Sam got him pregnant right then he really might never, ever stop coming. His vision was about to go totally dark, but he didn't even care. All he cared about was Sam and being Sam's mate. "Please. Please. Breed me. Please."
Sam exhaled sharply, urging his hips forward gently and pushing his knot in slow, insistent, making Kurt feel it open him up and throb in him.
"I am," he said, voice thick, and Kurt knew he wanted it, too, wanted it more than anything. "I'm breeding you right now—"
He cut off when his breath jerked, but his fist began to roll, slick with come, up Kurt's shaft, jerking him wetly and gently.
"Say it," Kurt heard himself beg in a whisper.
"I'm breeding you," Sam responded indulgently, making Kurt whimper all over again. "Getting my knot in you so deep, tying you to me till you're all knocked up for me. Breeding you so hard, there's no way you're not gonna be this year's Quinn Fabray…"
"Oh," Kurt got out, suckerpunched, entire body flexing with the stark mental picture of increasingly loose-fitting clothes, a gently-curved belly. Kicked off the squad. Shunned. Scandal. Everyone knowing she'd done it and who had done it to her. It was too easy to imagine himself for a split-second in those shoes, standing at his locker with his favorite gray sweater stretched over the swell of what Sam Evans had done to him, kids in the hallway catching a glimpse of it and elbowing each other.
He was coming again in the absolute haze of it all, clenching, spurting off without being able to help it. It obviously wasn't what he wanted and yet it was everything, the ultimate, what he and Sam were made to to together.
"God, it smells so good when you come, Kurt," Sam whispered.
Kurt was only floating, pathetic, like someone half-drowned on a beach where the waves kept beating him and carrying him right back into the current. He could feel himself dripping and his breaths heaving; he heard himself utter in one tiny breath, "Can't stop…"
"You don't have to. I'm not done yet, either," sighed Sam. He breathed in round-mouthed, extended breaths, so calm and grounded there next to Kurt, but he was coming as much as Kurt was, just in steady little hot pulses that seemed to be keeping him in the same kind of state of perpetual edging. The idea that he was making Sam – his mate – come for so long was so intensely gratifying that Kurt moaned out of nowhere.
Sam's big hand, slick with Kurt's load, drifted to touch his shaking belly, and Kurt unthinkingly pressed his head back, mouth seeking and finding Sam's. Flavor lit up in his mouth, the taste of Sam alive and hot and so good on his lips that it made him lap for more with his tongue. Sam gave him a little moan in return.
He was a good kisser, smooth even though his lips were so clumsy and dominating – but it was only then that Kurt realized just how much kissing him flooded his senses with extra jags of information. He just tasted so good, so complex. Right then tasting him was like suddenly tasting in high-definition, 3-D Blu-Ray or something. He reached up an arm, grabbing inarticulately for Sam's head, grasping at his hair to keep him there in the kiss, utterly lost in the taste of Sam, the flavors of him pink and hot and intimate.
Between Kurt's thighs, Sam's knee edged in and locked them together even more effectively than they were already tied. Their pants were in tangles around their calves.
He moaned in disappointment when Sam pulled back and whispered, "I think I'm done."
"What?" Kurt asked, uncomprehending. His senses were all muddled, confused, beaten and swollen. He still felt like he was feverish to the point of delusion, but at least when he opened his eyes he was seeing blurry colors again, and not just grey.
"Shot my wad. I finished, like… I dunno how long it's been. We just made out for like… half an hour or something," said Sam, and actually chuckled sheepishly. "But I can slip out now. Without hurting you."
"Oh."
"Feel any better?" Sam asked, not moving, bust instead looking at Kurt with attentive, searching eyes.
Kurt shifted weakly. His cock was still hard in Sam's hand, and though it didn't hurt exactly, it still felt raw, ripe, sensitive. His stomach muscles ached like he'd just done a ton of crunches. He did feel somewhat better, even though he felt like he could go on all day… all night… and not get enough of Sam's knot. It was like he'd hit the calm in the middle of a storm, maybe.
"Are you gonna hate me if I say I'm still… in heat? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I'm still in heat."
"Of course not," said Sam firmly. "You're my mate. And you should be in heat for a couple of days, at least, I think."
"Oh, God," Kurt moaned, slightly in complaint but mostly just in that some throe of insane-feeling dizziness. He wanted Sam to say it again and again: my mate.
"Are you ready for me to pull out?"
"Will it hurt?"
"It might, it just depends on your body… but you took it so easy, it shouldn't be too bad. I'm not as hard. I'll try and be really gentle, okay?"
"Thanks, Sam," murmured Kurt. He knew how gay sex worked, and all, but this was just different enough that he had to depend on Sam to know what he was doing, know how much Kurt could take. Sam had the definite advantage here. Sam kissed him for a moment, electrifying his senses up again and making him feel whole and safe and loved – or at least, cared for.
They parted, Kurt tasting Sam on his tongue just inhaling the air between them afterwards, then Sam rolled him onto his belly in one easy push. Kurt grunted, feeling himself squish into the coprious, sticky puddle of his own lukewarm come with Sam's weight on him. It got all over his shirt. He was, admittedly, beyond caring right then, but some part of him knew he'd be humiliated just thinking about all this later.
Sam laid there on him for a second, nuzzling his neck. Kurt recognized the way he breathed out in that round but growly way and knew he felt good, and it made him feel good, too, a bloom of warmth filling his chest that had less to do with heat and more to do with the pleasure Sam was feeling. The sensations got kind of muddled, anyway.
Then, as easily as doing a push-up, Sam peeled his chest from Kurt's back and drew his hips back slow. Kurt, red-faced, just blinked hazily, half his face in the bed, feeling his body give generously around Sam's knot. It was much smaller than it had been in him, and might go away entirely, he thought, if that was how it worked. Clearly nobody on the football team had noticed some abnormality about Sam's dick. Sam pulled the rest of the way out slickly, sloppy with his own come and the lube he'd fingered into Kurt.
Kurt felt wide-open and wet beyond belief. He could tell he was gaping, muscles rounded out where Sam's knot had popped him open, and even though he felt indescribably empty now that Sam wasn't tied to him, he still felt full in a way. Full of Sam's come.
He groaned inarticulately into the bed. Even that made his muscles flex just enough to push a wet, warm dribble of come down his balls.
Sam inhaled deeply, then let out another satisfyingly low hum that made him sound like he was growling.
"You're my mate now," he said. "Too bad about your boyfriend. If he was like us, he'd have scented you. But you were meant for me."