A/N: Kind of a sequel to my other Kurt/Dave one-shot, In Case I Want It All but you can read this one without reading the other; just know that they've slept together once before. I was inspired to write this after seeing a picture of Kurt sucking on a microphone, sorry not sorry.
“Here we are, three fine young men from Seattle!” Krist shouts into the microphone sarcastically to kick off the next in a seemingly endless line of pointless concerts. Kurt figured that being the lead singer-slash-guitarist of a world famous, record-breaking rock band would give them some freedom, but they’re busier than ever and even less in control. He feels like he’s being held at gunpoint to play in all of the shoddy concert halls throughout redneck America. At least they can fuck around with the audience and they’re usually too dumb to know better.
“Let’s give a warm welcome to Kurt Cobain and the two other guys,” Dave calls from behind a drumset larger than he is. The drumsticks he’s holding have more meat on their bones than he does, Kurt thinks, and he would feel bad about Dave’s comment highlighting the disproportional spotlight put on himself in comparison to Krist and Dave, but the smiles on their faces let him know they can appreciate the humor in it. He’s thinking too quickly now and not quickly enough; concerts only seem to make him jumpy nowadays which is why he drank two beers and smoked a joint beforehand, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much to get him soft and softened, and then Krist nods and the bassline for Come As You Are begins.
Kurt clears his voice, drops the stubbed cigarette between his fingers to the ground and crushes it beneath his foot, and lets his instincts take over. Singing, strumming and smashing his guitar - it’s what he knows best, what he does to let go. Soon enough, the shirtless hicks and macho football players standing below him are just faceless blurs, drowned out by the blinding lights and raw sound of music.
A lot of the times, Kurt’s realized, when you’re doing something important, you can zone out and think about other things, everything, while still doing the important thing really well. It’s like that for him now, and his mine begins to drift away from the second chorus of Breed and towards what had happened just a couple weeks earlier - Dave. They haven’t talked about it much, and neither has Krist, but Kurt’s not surprised. It isn’t easy to bring up the fact that he and Dave slept together and got caught by a very confused Krist, who hasn’t mentioned anything about seeing the two of them in bed the morning after. It’s not that he’s ashamed, because he’s not. It’s not that he regrets it, because he doesn’t. It’s just…weird.
Their tour began last week and Dave hasn’t taken a single girl back to the van for a quick fuck. Neither has Kurt, but he never really did to begin with. Dave didn’t say anything about it, but Kurt’s sure he must’ve noticed the look of relief on his face when he realized Dave might still want this, want him. He had expected Dave to get with a girl from each city they stopped in, to see the night with Kurt as a one-time thing. And the fact that he didn’t was nice, to say the least.
But it’s not just girls Dave’s been deprived of. He and Kurt haven’t had a chance to do much of anything lately, what with Nirvana’s newfound fame ensuring that they’re constantly surrounded by fans, guitar techs, roadies, managers, and everything in between. Kurt doesn’t want to put Krist in the awkward position of sleeping two feet away from where his two best friends are going at it, isn’t gonna be that kid in high school who makes his pal the third wheel. Which is why he’s finding himself horny and longing for Dave just in time to sing a very fitting line from Lithium.
Kurt remembers everything about that night together, as lame as it makes him feel. He never fit the stereotypical - albeit sexist - portrayal of the girl in relationships who over-thought and remembered every-fucking-thing about a relationship. Sometimes he was the kid in relationships, sometimes he was the asshole, but never the girl. He supposes that there’s a first time for everything. Like getting fucked by Dave. That was a first he’d like to give a second to, if fate could just grant them fifteen minutes of privacy. He figures he could make out with Dave onstage if he really wanted; Nirvana sticks it to the man in a lot of ways, that’s who they are - but he doesn’t want the world to know what goes on in his personal life just to make a statement against homophobia and release pent-up sexual frustration.
God, he just wants this concert to be over - there’s gotta be a private bathroom somewhere…
Finally, there’s a sharp increase in the amount and volume of primitive, vulgar shouts of applause, and the lights dim, and Krist yells something along the lines of, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” and they’re walking offstage, finally.
Backstage is complete chaos, and somewhere in the flurry of equipment and paperwork and security guards and clothes, Kurt spots Dave guzzling down a beer and grabs him, dragging him down a narrow, dark hallway and ignoring his inquiries of what the hell they’re doing until he sees a door and kicks it open. It’s not quite a bathroom, more of a supply closet, but beggars can’t be choosers, here. He slams the door behind them and grazes his hand across the dirty walls of the cramped room until he feels a light switch. He flicks it on and there’s hardly a change in brightness, but he can see Dave clearly now, up close, and it’s like a feast laid out before a starving man - or in something more relatable to Kurt, a frozen pizza.
“Kurt, what the fuck is going on?” Dave asks, mouth curved into a sly grin, like he knows exactly what’s going on. He’s shirtless, always is for concerts like these, and his hair brushes his chest now, and sweat is shining on him even in the dim light, and shadows exacerbate the circles under his eyes and beneath his cheekbones, and he’s beautiful.
“Just…long time, no see, you know?” Kurt says, mentally kicking himself immediately after for saying something so dumb and clingy and now he’s sure Dave’ll walk away from him and go find a nice blonde girl with big tits-
Except that Dave chooses that exact moment to close the space between the two of them, shoving Kurt up against the wall and licking at his lips and tongue in a way that lets him know he was just as desperate for this contact as Kurt was.
Kurt inadvertently moans as Dave slides his hands down to grab at his ass and pull him in closer, rocking his hips forward to get friction on his quickly stiffening dick. “Just gonna rub up against me, huh? Dry hump like a fuckin’ teenager?” Kurt murmurs breathlessly against Dave’s neck.
“Unless you wanna do something different,” Dave replies without missing a beat, pupils dilated longingly.
Kurt raises his eyebrows and pushes Dave away before dropping to his knees and making quick work of the zipper on Dave’s dirty jeans. He isn’t thinking, can’t think, can only feel - the throbbing in his jeans, the fluttering heat in the pit of his stomach that isn’t aching for once, the need he feels for the person standing before him - and before he knows it, he’s pulling down Dave’s boxers and breathes hotly on the leaking head of Dave’s dick, holding it gently in his hands. He’s never done this before, but he’s too turned on too be nervous - no teeth, no teeth, he reminds himself as Dave shudders in anticipation.
Kurt seals his lips around the first few inches of Dave’s dick and swirls his tongue around slowly, relishing the sounds that escape from him as he fucks into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt hollows out his cheeks, takes it even deeper until he’s sure he looks ridiculous and his eyes are watering, and he wraps his hand around the base and jacks Dave off quick and hard.
“Fuck, Kurt - so good, shit,” Dave hisses, his moans punctuated by slurs of Kurt’s name and swear words. Kurt slowly slides his mouth towards the end of Dave’s dick with one last trace of his tongue against the underside, and that’s all it takes - Dave’s coming into his mouth, nearly shouting Kurt’s name on repeat. Kurt swallows down the liquid heat, not really minding the bitter taste - it’s just Dave, pure Dave. “You fucking swallow?” Dave asks him incredulously, running his fingers through Kurt’s stringy blond hair. “Shit, why weren’t we doing this the whole time?”
Kurt hopes Dave can’t see him blush in the dark.
“No need to be embarrassed, Kurt, you’re the most famous one in the room,” Dave says jokingly, pulling him up off the ground and stroking his face with his thumbs.
“Fucker,” Kurt replies with a laugh.
“Didn’t know it was in the contract that I’d get sucked off by the most famous guy in the world,” Dave adds, this time getting a punch in the arm. “Now it’s my turn to get you off,” he continues, moving his hand to clutch at the tent in Kurt’s jeans. “I always play fair.”
Dave lowers himself onto his knees and Kurt whimpers.