This could alternatively be titled "Where all my kinks come out to play" just because. This is basically just raw smut and is not suitable for baby klainers. It was posted on tumblr a few months ago, but I'm going through an updating all my fics on here :)
Warnings: Smut. Rimming, bondage, breathplay, slight orgasm denial, corsets, pole dancing etc.
A/N: The title comes from Touch Me from Spring Awakening, and yes, the song Kurt dances to is most definitely S&M.
Of course in the end, it always came down to Santana. Santana and her ridiculous powers of observation coupled with a whole lot of dumb luck.
Blaine wouldn't say that he was an uptight or particularly judgemental man. Of course, he admitted that he lived quietly and simply, tidying his own life around Santana's constant whirlwind of mess and noise.
He would go to work, he would come home and eat and she would dance and laugh and make fun of his hair. He would mark papers and plan lessons and fall asleep at a reasonable hour, the heavy beat of her music through the walls fading into a lullaby.
But Blaine never complained; never let it bother him because she was his friend and his life was fine, and maybe it wasn't the extravagant affair that some people hoped for. Maybe Blaine wasn't existing quite how he wanted to, and there was always going to be that tiny itch in the back of his mind.
Just the feeling that there was something wrong, a feeling that Blaine barely noticed any more.
But of course, Santana knew.
And Blaine was stupid if he thought she wouldn't do anything about it.
When she asked him for a ride home after her late shift, he hadn't expected to arrive outside a door boasting a coat of arms of two crossed whips under the blinking sign that dubbed the building with the name Wild Things. A blonde in torn fishnets exhaled a stream of smoke and raised a pierced eyebrow as he squeezed past her and through.
Because, of course San had neglected to mention that the club she had worked in for the last four months was run by a guy with electric blue hair and heeled boots that must have been at least eight inches high, and eyes that raked unabashedly over Blaine's form until he felt a hot flush on the back of his neck.
And it wasn't that Blaine particularly minded what others did in their spare time, nor did it really bother him that Santana chose to work at a place a little on the worse side of questionable.
It was that Blaine was tired and cold, and had to be up in six hours, which Santana knew and still insisted on him picking her up from work because that's what good roommates did.
Blaine shifted uncomfortably, all too aware that next to the leather and fishnet clad bodies pressing around him, his suit and tie combination had him sticking out like a sore thumb, until he was nodded inside, into the darkness.
Inside the strobes lit up the room in staccato bursts, bouncing between the dancing bodies and the grimy tables, the constant twist of waitresses between the moving figures. Blaine felt his shirt damp against his back with sweat as a wave of heat washed over his face, the soles of his feet stuck to the floor with each step as he picked his way across the room. A familiar pink-haired girl smirked at him from across the room, raising her chin in greeting.
Blaine fought his way through the teaming mass of people, feeling much like a fish out of water and slid onto a stool at the bar as Quinn poured him something deep gold and slid it across the counter.
"What are you doing here B? This really doesn't strike me as your scene."
"Trust me Q, it's not. San asked me to pick her up without warning me that she worked at a strip joint."
Quinn frowned, leaning in closer to talk over the music.
"It's not a strip joint, Anderson. It's a cabaret club."
Blaine raised an eyebrow and she shrugged.
"Fine. It's a cabaret club for those of us who like to enjoy things a little different to what society considers the norm. I hardly think you're in the position to judge."
Blaine tugged at the knot of his tie where it was sticking to his throat and took a gulp of his drink. His eyes were prickling with lethargy and he was mentally berating the beacon of morality that blasted through his mind when he considered ignoring Santana's plea for a ride home.
"Q, just because I'm gay doesn't mean I experiment in every fetish under the sun on my nights out."
Maybe the words came out a little harder than he meant, and maybe there was more than a little shock blatant on his face as Blaine surveyed the room. Quinn arched an eyebrow and fixed him with a stony glare that would send most men running for cover, leaning closer until they were almost nose to nose.
"First of all, Anderson, don't knock it until you've tried it. Secondly, San tells me you've been a whiney bitch recently and we suspect it's something to do with your utter lack of a sex life that is anything other than vanilla. So maybe trying something different would help to dislodge that stick stuck up your ass."
Blaine blinked, his throat dry and felt his face redden. He dropped his gaze to the surface of the bar and her reflection scowled back.
Maybe Santana had a point. He'd been more stressed than usual recently, snapping at students and falling asleep grading papers every night, but Blaine somehow doubted than being tied up and whipped was the best way to relieve the tension burning between his shoulder blades.
Quinn was still glaring at him, wiping a glass clean with a cloth over and over.
"How…how's Rachel?" Blaine managed to choke out, trying to dislodge the sudden flare of shame he felt creeping up his cheeks.
Quinn scoffed and slammed the glass down hard, ignoring him completely until –
"San doesn't get off until three. You've got over an hour to wait, so get comfortable and hope you don't have a run-in with a horny fiend who'll take you back to his dungeon and –"
"Thank you, Quinn!" Blaine cut her off with a forced smile, "I'll just wait here. Quietly. And I certainly won't mention that she told me she finished at two, because I most definitely don't have to be up tomorrow morning for work, because some of us still keep respectable business hours."
She frowned at him and made to turn away before something seemed to occur to her.
"She told you to come and get her at two?"
"Yes."
"And take her home. With you. To the flat where you both live?"
"Yes."
"Even though she asked me earlier if she could stay at my place tonight?"
"Ye – What?"
Something flickered across Quinn's face, a hint of excitement touching her eyes as she glanced at her watch.
"Five minutes. Jesus, she could have told me this was the plan. Get up Anderson," she ducked from behind the counter and seized his upper arm with frightening strength, dragging him down the length of the bar to a table set for one. Blaine recognised Santana's spikey writing declaring the seat "Reserved, bitches!"
"Um…Q? It's –"
"It's reserved for you, idiot. Here," she pushed him down and pressed another icy drink into his hand, "You're going to need it."
She was gone before Blaine could speak and the lights were dimming to a pitch black as the room fell quiet around him. Something was hanging heavy in the air like an electric feel, sending prickles up Blaine's spine and he noticed what he'd earlier missed; the raised platforms that scattered the floor and formed a rough stage in front of him.
The lights tapered to a single point on the platform, until a halo of light was all Blaine could see in the darkness. The music had dropped to a heavy thudding beat that reverberated through Blaine's entire body, as his attention was drawn inexplicably to a slim figure gracing the centre of the stage, completely still.
He turned as the music picked up, stalking down the stage like a catwalk, feet hitting the ground with every beat and it wasn't until his hands closed around a thin metal pole jutting from the stage not ten feet in front of Blaine that he realised who it was.
Kurt Hummel.
The Kurt Hummel.
The Kurt Hummel Blaine hadn't spoken to for nearly seven years, the boy who had been his best friend until he'd left for New York and they'd lost contact. The boy who cried the day Blaine met him, all huge blue eyes and sharp cheekbones was suddenly the same boy swinging himself around a pole.
And that's not all.
Kurt's torso was wrapped in dark leather, gleaming black under the pulsing lights. It curved and twisted as he rolled his hips, inches of pale skin flashing through the bindings that lace up the back. His legs gleamed as he hooked one around the silver pole, and Blaine can see every shift of muscles beneath the fabric as though Kurt's entire body was dipped in black paint.
He turns and Blaine sees the stretch of skin up his leg, crossed with black where the two halves are tied.
All the way up, unbroken.
Fuck.
Blaine could feel himself getting harder, his suit pants tightening and he shifted in his chair. His damp palm slipped on the table and he grasped at his glass, barely noticing the ice-cold burn.
Kurt dropped his head to dip forwards, hips pressed against the metal as he arched up and flung his head back. He's so close that Blaine could see the throb of his neck as he swallowed, the dark smears of make up around his eyes and the glitter that shone down the length of his neck.
One leg was around the pole, thigh pressed tight as Kurt rocked his hips in time, fingers smoothing slowly up the metal, caressing and clutching before he bent double, twisting his way back up until his spine was rubbing flat along the pole.
The crowd was going wild, but Kurt didn't seem to notice. His eyes had fallen closed as he writhed to the beat, rolling his arms and hips, curving his body around before snapping backwards.
Blaine's hand clenched tight, fingernails dug deep into the skin of his palm. There was an itch tingling in his fingers, his fingers twitching where they lay on his knees.
And then Kurt turned, spinning and stopping with one hand clutched around the pole, looking down until his eyes met Blaine's, staring Blaine right in the face and holding his gaze.
His hands grasped one ankle and suddenly Kurt's leg was stretched taught, raised over his head and up flat against the pole with his forehead just brushing his calf.
And then, Kurt Hummel winked at him.
Blaine felt his wrist give way, hand slipping from the table and his glass crashing to the floor and he didn't think he'd ever been this turned on before.
He was going to kill Santana.
Kurt knew, of course he knew.
He'd known the moment Santana had cornered him on his first day, with that look in her eyes that had him sighing.
"Blaine?"
"What else?" She'd replied, rolling her eyes and linking their arms together to draw him away from the others.
And then Kurt had seen him, the same even after seven years. His hair was still perfect, his suit still impeccable, his eyes still far too expressive for their own good.
Kurt had seen him stiffen and bite his lip, seen the smash of the glass and the way Blaine's fingers dug into his own hand as he'd watched Kurt dance.
And Kurt had seen that response on men before, hundreds of them.
But this was Blaine.
This was Blaine Anderson, his best friend for two years before that goodbye at the departures gate. That linking of fingers and that hug that was shorter every time Kurt remembered it and this was seven years later Blaine still looked the same and held his glass in the same way. He still tapped the index finger of his left hand against the nearest surface when he was nervous.
"Hummel. I didn't ask you to do this to have you stand and watch him all night."
Kurt rolled his eyes and pulled the door closed, obscuring the bar completely.
"Santana, I'm –"
"Look!" she held up a hand to cut him off, "This isn't about you, okay. I worry about him a lot. He needs…something. And I just think that maybe you're the one who can give it to him. So please can you just spend the night doing what you do best, and save your own emotional breakdown for the morning after."
"I'm not a prostitute Santana."
"I'm not paying you Hummel. You're getting something better out of this.
He raised an eyebrow.
"What exactly would that be?"
Santana turned to leave, glancing back over her shoulder with that infuriating smirk as she reached the door.
"Closure."
"Raven! So nice of you to join us," Quinn sang as Kurt settled himself onto the barstool beside Blaine, who jumped slightly. His eyes met Kurt's for a second, before he turned back to his empty glass. Kurt could see the blush burning up the back of his neck, creeping down under his shirt collar.
"Raven?" Blaine mumbled, staring determinedly at the bottom of the glass.
"Stage name," Kurt said airily, ignoring the heavy pounding of his heart and taking the water Quinn offered him, "It looks better on the adverts."
"Oh."
Blaine fell silent and Kurt looked at him for a long moment.
He opened his mouth to speak, but then Blaine was cutting him off.
"Do you want to get out of here? Are you hungry?"
Kurt smiled, "I could eat."
Blaine nodded and pushed his glass towards Quinn who was wiping down the bar top and looking resolutely in the opposite direction.
"Let's go."
They make it to Blaine's car, but as soon as Kurt's slammed his door shut Blaine let his head fall onto the steering wheel.
"I'm not stupid," he muttered into the plastic, "I know San set this up."
Kurt stared at his knees, flushing.
"Yeah."
Blaine let out a laugh, "What was her plan then? Anderson hasn't got laid in a while and his…Kurt is back in town. Let's have them hook up for one night, because that'll be fun for everybody."
Blaine's words are bitter and angry, and he's spitting them out until Kurt is flinching and digging his nails into his thighs.
"Blaine," Kurt let his fingers brush the warm wool of Blaine's coat, pressing harder into his shoulder when Blaine didn't move away, "We don't have to…you know. Do…anything. Not if you don't want to."
"Fuck, Kurt. Of course I want to. I just…I don't know what I'm doing."
Kurt let his hand move higher, touching the loose curls at the base of Blaine's neck and twisting his fingers into them lightly.
"Blaine, do you trust me?"
Maybe seven years ago that question wouldn't have set Kurt's heart pounding, because the answer would have been an unequivocal and resounding yes.
But this is now, and this is different.
Blaine was silent for a long moment and the car was filled with their synchronised breaths until he turned his head to the side and met Kurt's eyes.
"Yes."
"Then drive."
Every step up to Blaine's apartment had his heart pounding in his ears, and every breath hitching with nerves because this was Kurt. This was Kurt Hummel taking the stairs with him, brushing their fingers so gently it could have been an accident if it wasn't for the shy smile Kurt threw over his shoulder.
Blaine nearly dropped his key as they reached his door, fingers fumbling sweaty on the warm metal and a flush spread up the back of his neck as he heard Kurt chuckle softly behind him.
"Here."
His hands were cool as they hooked around Blaine's steadying the key and turning it with a soft click as the door swung open. The room beyond was dark and warm and washed over Blaine's skin like a blanket, welcome after the cool air of the stairwell. There was a gentle thrumming under Blaine's skin as he entered the room, something he suspected had nothing to do with the cold but he was so damn nervous and just turning to glance at Kurt left Blaine's words forgotten and stuck in his throat.
"I…"
And then Kurt was right there, and Blaine didn't remember closing the door but they were suddenly in shadowy darkness and Blaine's back was pushed against the wood as Kurt moved in painfully close.
"Shhh," he breathed, tracing his nose down the column of Blaine's throat and whispering the words into his skin, "Let me take care of you."
A whimper slipped from Blaine's lips as his head connected with the wood behind him. Kurt wasn't kissing him, wasn't doing anything more than dragging his bottom lip down Blaine's throat but it left a trail that tickled in the most delicious way.
"I've wanted to do this since I was seventeen."
Kurt's mouth was by Blaine's ear, and he could feel Kurt's smile damp and hot against his skin.
"Do you remember when we were Warblers," Kurt laughed faintly, his fingers creeping up to brush against Blaine's hips, "All that time when we were so young. All those duets and fuck," his voice dropped until it was little more than a whisper, "Those blazers."
Blaine tried to talk, to moan or make a sound but there was only one word he could think and it caught in his throat.
"Ku-urt…"
Kurt stiffened slightly and pulled back until their eyes met.
"Are you okay? We can stop if you're not –"
"No!" Blaine managed, remembering how to move his arms quick enough to clutch at Kurt's waist as he shifted backwards, "No, fuck. Please just…it's fine. Just carry on."
"Don't worry," Kurt whispered, "I'll be gentle."
Blaine swallowed hard, and his next words were so quiet that Kurt nearly missed them.
"What if I don't want you to be?"
"What do you want me to do, Blaine?" Kurt dropped his voice and shifted closer until their every inch was pressed together. He slipped one thigh between Blaine's legs and fuck, Blaine had been hard since Kurt first touched that pole and his legs trembled slightly as Kurt moved softly against him.
"Tell me what you want."
Blaine swallowed hard and forced his eyes open to focus on Kurt in front of him, eyes dark and smudged with makeup, staring deep and waiting for Blaine to tell him what to do.
"I want you to kiss me."
There was fragile moment and a flicker in Kurt eyes, but he was leaning forwards to brush his tongue across Blaine's closed lips, touching once and then twice until Blaine let his mouth fall open with a gasp and something within Kurt snapped. His fingers dug down to hoist Blaine's thighs up and around his waist, and he was pushing Blaine backwards harder and harder until he was slotted between Kurt's warm body and the cool wood with no space to breathe or think until it didn't matter.
Kurt smashed their mouths together, holding them frozen still for just a moment before he pressed his tongue against Blaine's lips. His mouth was burning hot and twisted wet against Blaine's pushing deeper and deeper until every thrust of his tongue was mirrored by the push of his hips against Blaine's, the grasp of his hands tight against Blaine's thighs as he rocked them hard.
Blaine's head was spinning, his legs tense and screaming as they locked around Kurt and his hands groped for rough purchase on the door behind him, slipping from the handle and sliding down the wood until he gave up and fisted them hard into Kurt's hair. He couldn't breathe but it didn't matter because Kurt was kissing him better than he'd ever been kissed before, and Blaine could feel his toes curling and something tingling at the base of his spine. He clutched Kurt tighter, trying to rock against him in feeble desperation but nothing was enough.
Kurt pulled back very slightly, enough to let Blaine gasp for air without their lips parting too much and they panted into each other's mouths until every breath inhaled was Kurt's.
"Shall we –"
"Yes. God, yes."
"Where –"
"Third…fuck. Third door…down."
And then Kurt was moving, clutching Blaine against him as he stumbled and tripped across the dark floor as Blaine tugged his face closer, burying his mouth against Kurt's neck and bracing his thighs tighter until they screamed with the pressure of holding his body up. The hands locked around Kurt's arms could feel the firm swell of muscle, the clench of the strength that was carrying Blaine to his room, and a dark shudder rippled through Blaine's body because this was Kurt holding him closer and kicking Blaine's bedroom door open. This was Kurt dropping him hard onto his bed and moving backwards only to slam the door closed before he turned to face Blaine.
Blaine made to sit up but Kurt raised a hand to stop him, his chin set in slight defiance as he pulled the hem of his t-shirt up and over his head.
Blaine's mouth ran dry.
"You kept the corset on."
"Is that a problem?"
Maybe to the Blaine of two weeks ago, maybe even of two hours ago. Maybe to the Blaine who didn't ever expect Kurt Hummel to tear back into his life like a whirlwind would have had something to say about it.
But this Blaine, the Blaine watching Kurt Hummel stand in front of him, chin raised and one hand propped on his hip, could do nothing but stare.
The dark leather of the corset was wrapped tightly around the swell of Kurt's muscles, shining white and stark against the black. It curved around his body to tighten around the waist and left a thin strip of skin just visible above the tops of his jeans. With his eyes thick and dark with make-up and hair messed in every direction, Kurt looked so fucking flawless that Blaine didn't realise he was staring until Kurt smiled.
"See something you like?" His tongue touched lightly at his bottom lip.
"I…yes. Fuck, Kurt just…come here."
Kurt moved forwards, rolling his hips with each step until he could crawl up the bed over Blaine, hovering and slotting one leg either side of Blaine's waist.
Blaine's breath hitched, they were so close but not close enough and he could feel the heat of Kurt's body filling every inch of space between them. His hands were cold as they ran beneath the collar of Blaine's shirt, fisting into the cotton and wrenching Blaine up to his face and tearing down until buttons showered the floor.
Blaine made a muffled noise but Kurt grazed his teeth over his ear until Blaine shuddered beneath him, letting one hand slide flat down his chest and rest over his stomach.
"Lie back," he whispered and Blaine complied, lowering himself down until he was spread beneath Kurt, watching him through his eyelashes.
Kurt trailed his fingers back up Blaine's ribcage and down his arms, watching the soft tremble of his skin even at the lightest touch. He touched lightly across Blaine's pulse point, letting his fingers hook around his wrists for just a moment and press.
Blaine's hips jerked upwards, a shocked gasp escaping his lips.
"Oh," he breathed.
Kurt stilled his hands, letting them linger over Blaine's wrists just enough for him to remember, and leaned down until their lips brushed ever so slightly.
Blaine kissed him back soft and tentative, letting his tongue just touch against Kurt's lips before drawing away, gasping in a deep breath. Kurt could feel the gentle tremble of his skin beneath his hands, the warm shudders that racked Blaine's form. Kurt twisted his head, letting his lips fall open that little bit wider, kissing that little bit harder and letting his fingers tighten, holding Blaine's arms down into the bed sheets.
Blaine was rocking his hips upwards, pressing his erection against Kurt's own with every movement, and Kurt was meeting him with every thrust, kissing him wetter and dirtier until Blaine turned his face to the side to gasp for air.
"Fuck."
And Kurt was jerked back to his senses.
"Don't move," he choked against Blaine's cheek, "Just…stay."
"Is there something wrong?"
Blaine's body followed Kurt's as he sat up; curling against him and Blaine was pulling his hands free to cup Kurt's face.
"Kurt?"
He shook his head hard.
"No. Just give me a moment."
Blaine bit his lip and nodded once, shakily, letting Kurt slide from his lap.
He crossed the room, slamming the bathroom door behind him and pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror.
"Fuck."
Because Kurt needed to stop and slow down. This was about Blaine, it was all about Blaine, but he'd looked so gorgeous and been so needy and desperate that Kurt almost couldn't help himself.
But it had to be perfect.
For Blaine.
Kurt let one hand reach down to press between his legs, palming himself over the denim of his jeans until he was rocking into his own hand. Kurt one hand braced on the wall, fumbling inside his pants with the other to jerk himself hard and fast and with a rough burning friction, and Blaine was inches away, lying on his own bed, hard and wanting and waiting.
Waiting for Kurt.
Kurt muffled a moan, pressing his mouth to his arm and Blaine was filling his mind, spread out and begging on his bed. Moaning and screaming Kurt's name, pressing two fingers deep into himself while one hand worked his cock.
Kurt came hard, spilling over his own fingers and arm and into Blaine's sink and he was panting against the glass and fogging up his own reflection.
His face was flushed a deep pink and there were streaks of eyeliner down Kurt's cheeks as he surveyed himself. He tightened the corset strings until they were just comfortable and pressed handfuls of water to his cheeks and neck until the blush died down.
Blaine.
Blaine was in his room half naked, and that was enough to make Kurt's oversensitive cock ache, but it was too much too soon and that was perfect.
Because now Kurt could make it about Blaine, without the lust clouding his already fractured judgement.
Kurt paused when he opened the door, letting his eyes run slowly up Blaine's stretched form before his presence was noticed and Blaine smiled.
One hand was teasing around the erection straining his pants, brushing up the length with a tantalising softness and Blaine's eyes fluttered closed as he skimmed over the tip.
Kurt crossed the room, stooping to fish in the pocket of his coat for a moment and reaching the bed as Blaine reopened his eyes. He smiled as Kurt swung his legs over and straddled his waist.
"Hi."
Kurt laughed.
"Hi," he said, and ran his tongue along the curve of Blaine's lips, pressing between them to skim the roof of his mouth and lick behind his teeth. He kissed hard enough, pulling away and pushing back hard enough to draw Blaine's attention away from his hands as they closed around Blaine's wrists and drew them over his head.
A sharp click echoed through the room as Kurt pressed the handcuffs closed.
Blaine stilled, mouth open and gasping against Kurt's until he squeezed the metal even tighter, just enough.
"Still okay?"
"Yes, god yes."
Kurt let his lips drift over the hollow of Blaine's throat, dipping and breathing but not touching. Blaine ached, strained upwards to seek any kind of friction currently being denied to him, but Kurt just chuckled softly against his ear.
Kurt was slotted where Blaine couldn't reach him, not even if he arched his hips as far as they would go, and he just let his mouth trail lower to suck a hard mark into Blaine's collarbone before moving backwards.
And Kurt sat back on his heels, cupping his hands around Blaine's cheek and running a thumb across his cheekbone.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he said, his voice cracking slightly.
Blaine said nothing but held Kurt's gaze, his eyes burning.
Kurt moved down, pulling Blaine's pants to his knees and over his feet, dragging his boxers with them until he was stretched naked and perfect across his bed, hands clenched and bound with bright metal to the headboard and his cock bobbing heavy on his stomach.
Kurt raised one of Blaine's legs, hooking it over his shoulder and touching his lips lightly to his ankle. He kissed down, down, down the dark hair that laced Blaine's calves and sucking a wet mark into the damp skin behind his knees. His tongue trailed down, over the softer skin of Blaine's thighs until Kurt's cheek was level with his cock, nose pressing the crease of his thigh.
Blaine was breathing a little harder, his lips parted just slightly until Kurt let his teeth scrape over a hipbone, digging just enough for Blaine's hips to jolt upwards. He sucked a purple mark into the skin, letting one hand rest against Blaine's stomach, holding him down as he trembled, the head of his cock trailing pre-come over Kurt's fingers.
Kurt moved to brush his cheek along Blaine's other leg, closing his eyes and breathing the scent of his skin, letting the slightly coarse hairs scrape his face until they faded into the smooth of his thigh. His hands clasped Blaine's ankles, drawing his legs up and apart enough for Kurt to draw his lips between them, tongue pressing down the hot skin.
Blaine's breath hitched slightly, his hips twitching upwards and Kurt smiled into his skin, stroking his tongue down a little further, pressing against Blaine's hole.
"Kurt!"
It's came out a broken gasp, spurring Kurt on, and he flicked his tongue harder, pressing over and dipping just inside the tight ring of muscle to draw back out. Blaine thrusts his hips, aching upwards for some kind of friction and pressing down against the open warmth of Kurt's mouth until his tongue is sliding fast over spit-slicked skin.
Blaine moved faster, each noise a cracked whimper that shoots straight down Kurt's spine until his fingers curled into the skin of Blaine's thighs, cutting half-moon shapes deep into his skin. He stretched Blaine's legs open wider, sucking a trail down his thigh and breathing hard against the damp trail, letting the tip of his tongue tease goosebumps along the surface of Blaine's skin.
Kurt let go with one hand, stretching for the lube on the bedside table and spilling it over his fingers until they're dripping and wet and it splashes onto Blaine's legs. One finger brushed over the skin after his tongue, sliding easily into Blaine as he licked around it, easing his finger slowly.
"Holy…fuck, Kurt. You…fuck!"
Kurt wondered if the Kurt Hummel of seven years ago would believe this story; would believe that one day he would Blaine Anderson tied up and begging, cursing and writhing with Kurt's fingers inside him.
Kurt pulled his hand away for a moment, stroking over the sticky skin before adding a second finger, twisting and crooking them upwards, pressing and stroking until Blaine's back arched high and a choked moan escaped his lips. Kurt's hand found the base of his spine, pressing him close and resting his head against Blaine's thigh as he worked his fingers harder.
"Ku…Kurt…I need…"
Blaine's feet were curling into the duvet, hips thrusting the empty air and Kurt dropped a kiss to his hip, easing a third finger inside him.
"It's not…Kurt…more…fuck I need, so much…it's too…"
His voice was broken, half sobbing as his arms wrenched against the restraints.
"I need more, Kurt…please. Fuck…please."
"No you don't," Kurt whispered, stroking his fingertips across that tiny bundle of nerves one more time, "Just feel, Blaine."
"I want…I want you to touch me, oh god…please."
"Not yet."
Kurt moved away, pulling his fingers from Blaine who fell back to the bed with a sob. His jeans were discarded on the floor, tangled in their own laces and he peeled the corset from his sticky skin, dropping it to the side. Kurt found a condom and tore it open, sliding it down his own length until it was slippery with lube.
Blaine's eyes were wild, his lip bitten raw and his body gravitating towards where Kurt sat, pulled back by the silver at his wrists.
"Please."
It was barely a whisper, but Kurt moved over him and pushed Blaine's sweaty hair back from his forehead.
"Do you still trust me?"
There was a fraction of a pause, but Blaine nodded, closing his eyes under the soft brush of Kurt's fingers.
"Always," he said.
Kurt gripped Blaine's thighs, holding them open as he shifted to press the head of his cock against Blaine's entrance. He hooked one leg over his shoulder, pressing Blaine's thigh against his collarbone. One hand clasped into the sheets beside Blaine's head, clutching tighter as Kurt pushed forwards. He moved achingly slow, almost stopping until Blaine whined and clawed his nails into the wooden headboard. He clenched around Kurt, encasing him in slippery heat until Kurt was panting, leaning forwards to touch their foreheads together.
Kurt stilled his movements altogether, his hips pressing into Blaine's thighs and one hand moved to cup his jaw, fingers pressing against his pulse.
Blaine whimpered.
Kurt let his fingers dig harder, thumb sliding down the length of Blaine's neck to press into the hollow of his throat. Blaine's eyes widened and he gasped out a breath, the ridges of his throat rolling under Kurt's fingers.
Kurt touched their lips briefly, once then twice, pulling away to let Blaine gasp for air before kissing him deep and fast. Blaine's neck craned upwards, pushing harder into Kurt's hand and mouth, biting Kurt's lips closer. His mouth fell open with a pant against Kurt's, chasing his lips as Kurt made to move away. Kurt ran his thumb along the ridge of Blaine's throat, loosening enough to let him catch half a breath before closing tighter. Blaine's teeth sunk into Kurt's lips, forcing their mouths together.
Blaine's leg came up to wrap around Kurt's waist, heel digging into Kurt's ass and rolling his hips ever so slightly, whining into his mouth for movement.
Kurt shifted backwards, breaking the kiss and Blaine gasped for air beneath his fingers as he pulled out. His thumb hooked behind Blaine's knee, rubbing tiny circles into the warm skin as he rocked his hips forwards.
It was slow. Achingly slow, and Kurt would move his fingers up to brush Blaine's cheek, to push his hair back and press a kiss to his forehead. His fingers would slide the length of his neck and press up below his chin until Blaine was gasping into his mouth. Kurt could feel sweat trickling down his back, sticking between where their limbs were tangled together.
Somewhere between the kisses and the touches and the slow grind of hips, sunlight danced off Blaine's eyelashes, shining over his skin.
Kurt let his pace increase as the sun shone brighter through the windows, pushing his fingers into Blaine's skin hard enough to bruise and rocking them both fast until they were sweaty and sliding. Blaine's voice ripped from his throat, wrecked and groaning with every thrust and his mouth fell open, red and shiny and kiss-swollen.
"Kurt, Kurt…fuck, harder…"
Kurt's mind was spinning on the edge, the teasing grip of oblivion burning in every nerve, and he wanted to hang there forever. To bury himself deep within Blaine and never move or leave, but he was rocking harder, pressing his face to Blaine's collarbone and the bed was bumping the wall with every movement.
"Come on, Kurt. I need more…I need you, I need…"
Blaine's words were stringing together, broken with gasps and he was pleading and whining, sobbing with every movement.
And when Kurt lowered his hand, closing it tight around Blaine's erection he choked one word in a scream, heels digging into Kurt's thighs to clutch him closer and rock into Kurt's fist.
It was rough friction, but it was what Blaine needed and seconds later he was crying out, spilling over Kurt's fingers and up his own chest, clenching around Kurt so hot and tight and gasping his name over and over until Kurt's mind was spinning and his mouth fell against Blaine's shoulder with a moan.
Blaine was lying still, his chest heaving with stilted breaths and when Kurt unclicked the handcuffs and dropped them to the floor he curled into Kurt's chest, looping his arms tight around his waist.
Kurt let his fingers toy with Blaine' damp curls, rubbing his hands between the plain of his shoulder blades until his breathing slowed.
When he looked up, Blaine's eyes were damp and he didn't move his mouth from Kurt's skin as he spoke.
"Thank you."
Kurt smiled, tugging his fingers through a stubborn knot of hair.
"Believe me, it was my pleasure."
They were silent for a long time, and Kurt wondered if Blaine had fallen asleep, body hooked around his. He wondered if this was it; if he should leave and they would return to their normal lives.
Their lives without each other.
But then…
"Next time," Blaine's voice was thick with sleep, still muffled into Kurt's chest but just loud enough to hear, "Can I wear the corset?"