DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy.
Warnings are: masturbation, hints at sex, videotaping sexual acts, toy usage, slight dirtytalk.
This is based off a kink meme prompt that goes a little something like this:
"Blaine and Kurt have another discussion about sex/porn and for some reason Blaine gets it into his head that Kurt would be more comfortable with a homemade porn tape.
A couple days later he gives a home-burnt DVD to Kurt, and it's video of a very embarrassed, but very turned on Blaine: masturbating, fingering himself, fellating a dildo.
Kurt wonders what he said that made Blaine think this was a good idea. Embarrassed, he watches it anyway. And then wonders why the HELL he thought it WASN'T a good idea, because it was the hottest thing he's ever seen. (Maybe with some added masturbating!Kurt?)"
Reviewers: you are the light at the long end of the tunnel. I love everyone who sticks around no matter what dumb story I've posted next.
TUMBLR IS THAT WAY
endofadream [.] tumblr [.] com
xxxxXxxxx
First thing in the morning, McKinley's hallways are always nearly deafeningly loud. The packs of kids who walk by swirl in nauseating clouds of perfume and cologne and body spray. Students talk, yell, laugh. Lockers slam and someone always, always drops something.
Kurt fiddles with his notebooks, pushing them around inside his locker as he waits for Blaine to arrive. A quick check at the hallway clock reveals that it's ten after eight, exactly ten minutes later than when Blaine usually arrives. Frustrated, Kurt checks his phone again for a missed text but sees only a semi-blurry photo of the two of them smiling at the camera behind his iPhone's locked screen. It's not like Blaine to be a little late if at all, and it's definitely not like him to not text like this.
Just as Kurt's slamming his locker door closed and preparing to head off to first period resource management alone, Blaine appears at the end of the hallway, looking slightly flustered but as cute as ever. His bag is haphazardly slung over his shoulder, bouncing against his side as he half-jogs down the crowded hallway. In his hand is a cup of coffee and what looks to be a CD in a plain white sleeve.
"Hey, beautiful," Blaine says breathlessly when he comes to a halt in front of Kurt. A few curls have worked loose and brush stiffly against Blaine's forehead as he catches his breath. Kurt wants to sweep them back up into the cage of hair gel that retains the rest of Blaine's hair but decides against it. The curls look rebellious and surprisingly really hot. Blaine holds out the coffee and CD to Kurt. "These are for you."
Kurt takes the coffee gratefully and eyes the CD skeptically. It's in a paper sleeve and, except for the logo of the brand, is otherwise plain silver and unmarked. This close Kurt can see that it's also a DVD, not a CD. "Thanks, Blaine. What's this?"
Blaine colors and looks slightly guilty, refusing to meet Kurt's eyes. Immediately Kurt's on edge. Blaine never looks guilty unless he's got a pretty huge reason to. "Blaine?" he prompts, voice a little harder. He narrows his eyes for effect, ducking his head slightly to stare at Blaine's face and Blaine instantly caves.
"Look, don't kill me," Blaine says, still holding the DVD in his hand. "But you remember our discussion from last night?"
"Kurt," Blaine says. His voice is serious, steady and calm. "How often do you jerk off?"
Kurt chokes on his next inhale and twists his fingers together on his lap. "Blaine, I don't really want to talk about this—"
"I just came inside you the other night," Blaine deadpans. "Well, the condom, but you catch my drift."
"You're crude," Kurt replies, but he caves in and says, "Not very often."
He doesn't miss the way Blaine's eyes widen in surprise. "Why?"
"I don't see the point?" Kurt says, blinking once like Blaine's the one not making sense. "Before you I didn't have a lot of sexual frustration. And I don't really see the need, I guess. I have you."
Blaine sucks in a breath and nods, slowly. "Okay."
Now it's Kurt's turn to color. Of course he does. He'd have to be insane to forget an awkward conversation about porn and masturbation with the boy who'd just recently taken his virginity. He understands the hype about sex now, but why watch porn when he has a perfectly willing boyfriend who makes the hottest faces when he's about to come? He'd already made his reluctance about internet porn clear in April.
"Blaine," Kurt hisses, looking around quickly to make sure no one's listening, "just because we had sex once doesn't mean I have to start watching… those movies."
"This leans more toward the other part of our conversation," Blaine supplies, blushing harder. His voice goes a little higher and he clutches the strap of his bag in a white-knuckled grip, practically shaking the disc in Kurt's face in his haste to transfer it. "Can you please just take the DVD?"
Kurt takes it and quickly slips it inside his notebook. He takes a sip from his rapidly-cooling coffee and begins to walk down the hallway, hoping that maybe his abrupt motion would be enough to change the direction of the conversation. As usual, he's completely wrong and Blaine's as persistent as ever. Blaine matches his step with Kurt and continues to speak. "You said you were going to be alone tonight, right?"
Kurt raises an eyebrow and looks at him out of the corner of his eye, turning slightly to avoid a run-in with a girl rushing the opposite direction. "So eager for round two?" he asks dryly.
Blaine chokes out a strained laugh and tugs at his black bowtie, a nervous habit that Kurt had quickly picked out. "Not tonight, sorry, though the idea is tempting. After all, we didn't get to… switch things up."
Kurt's blush returns full-force and he gulps coffee to keep from making an embarrassing noise. He hates and loves how quickly and easily Blaine can go from embarrassed teen to experienced man even though their levels of experience are exactly the same at the moment. "Anyway," Blaine says, "what I meant was, Carole still has the late shift."
Kurt nods.
"And Burt is going out to some bar with his friends."
Kurt nods again.
"And Finn is working at the garage until nine."
Blaine doesn't wait for an answer before he's saying, "When you have the house to yourself, watch the DVD. For me. Please."
Before Kurt can answer Blaine's kissing him quickly on the cheek and veering off for his Spanish class. Kurt's left more confused than ever and doesn't even notice how no one in the hallway reacted to their minimal display of PDA.
xxxxXxxxx
True to his word, the moment after the door shuts behind Burt has Kurt climbing the stairs quickly, curiosity nibbling away at his insides as he pushes open his bedroom door. The notebook that the DVD is hidden in is on his desk and Kurt flips it open, sliding the disc out of the case. He examines it, squinting and flipping it over and over in his fingers like that will tell him of its secret contents. Finally, with a sigh of resolution, he sits at his desk.
"I don't know why I'm doing this," Kurt grumbles as he feeds the disc to the side of his iMac. But he does know why. He's doing it for Blaine because he loves him. Kurt trusts him more than he's ever trusted anybody and this DVD can't possibly be that bad. Knowing Blaine, which Kurt likes to think that he does since they've been dating for over half a year and have known each other longer still, it's probably something music-related and he'd just been embarrassed that he'd actually recorded it and given it to his boyfriend.
QuickTime shows up and Kurt drags the cursor to make the screen a little bigger. The video isn't very long, hovering around a half-hour or so. The screen comes into focus slowly and Kurt is only half-surprised to see that it's a tight shot of Blaine's bedroom—more specifically, his bed and his tastefully boyish sheets and comforter. Maybe he had been working on a secret love song medley for Kurt and that was why he'd been so embarrassed. Kurt doesn't try to stop the stupidly sappy grin that overtakes his face; if there's one thing he loves besides the actual human himself, it's Blaine's voice.
He's also really trying not to think about the last time that he had been on those sheets because if Blaine's serenading him with romantic songs he doesn't need to be thinking about what comes after the wooing.
Of course the resolution is in HD: for Christmas last year Blaine's dad had gotten him an HD camcorder even though Blaine would have no use for it except to record the Warblers doing various stupid and dangerous stunts a la low-rent Jackass. Well, Kurt thinks as he stares at Blaine's bedroom on his computer monitor, looks like you found a better use for it than injuring yourselves beyond repair.
After a few tinny sounds of shuffling and movement Blaine appears in front of his bed. He's shirtless, hair dripping and loose like he's just gotten out of the shower. And god, Kurt had missed that chest with its subtle but still mouthwatering muscle definition and smooth, olive skin.
But, shirtless. And a video camera. Blaine's blushing and stuttering and insistence at school earlier in the day suddenly make a hell of a lot more sense than they did back then. It clicks in Kurt's brain that this is definitely not Blaine singing love song after sappy love song and that maybe he'd been right to think dirty thoughts about that bed.
"Blaine Anderson, you conniving bastard," Kurt hisses, but he doesn't deny the stirrings low in his abdomen. He can't go back now even if he wanted to.
"Hi, Kurt," camera-Blaine says sheepishly. "Don't kill me for making this—I might kill myself for making this—but I just want you to know that there's absolutely nothing wrong with porn." He laughs a little and rubs the back of his neck as he looks at the wall, floor, anywhere but the blinking red camera light.
Kurt rolls his eyes and clutches harder at his mouse. Blaine continues, his voice slightly distorted where it filters through Kurt's speakers. "Every healthy relationship utilizes mutual masturbation," Blaine says, hands going to the button of his jeans. Kurt stops breathing and has to pause the video because oh fuck. This is really happening. His boyfriend had really used his nice, expensive video camera to film himself jerking off.
Kurt will be the first to admit that, yes, he's extremely inexperienced when it comes to sex. The decision to go all the way with Blaine had been mainly his, that much was true, but it didn't mean that he wasn't nervous. Laying on the very same bed that's in the paused video right now, down to only a skimpy pair of briefs that left very little to the imagination, Kurt had never been more terrified. But he'd breathed and then Blaine had been there, boxers tented out, looking just as hard as Kurt felt and with a shy smile on his lips as he'd straddled Kurt's hips and leaned down to kiss him, just to ground them both to the reality that this was happening.
Kurt un-pauses the video and camera-Blaine drops his jeans to his feet. Kurt can barely make out the outline of Blaine's cock in his classically black briefs and like a switch, he's left wanting more because he knows what that cock looks like naked and hard and suddenly this really, really isn't enough.
"We still have a lot of firsts to cross off our lists," Blaine says as he fingers the waistband of his underwear, nearly parroting Kurt's words back at him. Kurt smiles and shifts slightly in his chair, the familiar feeling of warm love blossoming in his chest and lowering to mingle with the hot, tense coil of anticipated arousal. "And I know you won't mention anything sex-related unless I do first. So, here it goes: I want you to know what I look like when I—when I jerk off. And don't for one second think I'm not as embarrassed as you are." He laughs again and it is a little more strained than before. Blaine's eyes are wide, owlish in their intensity, the way he gets when he's nervous yet excited.
Blaine turns and stoops over to rummage in his bedside drawer. Kurt takes this time to collect his thoughts and readjust himself in his jeans with a blush forming high on his cheekbones and snaking down the pale skin of his neck. He should not be getting off to this. It doesn't matter if it's his boyfriend—something about this feels wrong, like he's intruding on the personal things that should be kept personal.
Shutting the drawer and climbing onto his bed, Blaine kneels and faces the camera, cheeks stained red and eyes darting around his room like he'll find something more interesting there to stare at. When he'd turned Kurt had seen how hard he'd gotten since this video had started, and he wishes for an insane moment that Blaine's briefs were any color but black so that he could see the small soaked portion of the fabric where the head of Blaine's cock would be.
Screw personal things that should be kept personal: his boyfriend had made a sex tape. And damn, if that wasn't the best thing that's ever happened to him.
Blaine takes a deep breath and slides his underwear off his hips, down his lean thighs. He lifts up a leg at a time to get them past his knees and then they're on the ground, discarded, and he's naked. He's hard, cock flushed dark red, the slit leaking pre-come already. Kurt audibly gulps. The last time he'd seen Blaine naked the lighting had been dimmer, recessed. They could barely make out each other in the darkness. But now he can see everything and he's overcome with emotions he's never felt before, lust and love and the pulsing need to touch and mark and have.
When Blaine wraps a hand around his cock the moan he lets out is long and low and comes through Kurt's speakers as the sweetest sound he's ever heard. "I don't want to freak you out," Blaine says as he strokes up the length of his cock once, palming the head for good measure and bringing his hips up into the friction slightly, "but I think about you. A lot."
It shouldn't come as a surprise that Blaine jerks off to him, but it still sort of does because Kurt isn't used to this kind of attention. Until last November he'd nearly given up on love and romance and had begun to settle for just scraping by until he graduated and moved to New York where there would be every kind of gay man imaginable for him to try out.
"I really want you to fuck me." Blaine's words snap Kurt out of his open-mouthed thoughts and it's like his heart had stopped. Blaine wants that? Sure, Kurt had imagined fucking and being fucked like the majority of gay teen males, but with his feminine qualities that even he had to admit to he'd always sort of expected to be the bottom even though it was never what he really wanted. Blaine continues and Kurt very nearly misses what he says next. "I know you're probably surprised, Kurt, but don't be. You're such a powerful, strong person and I think that it's just something that people around here don't realize."
Blaine jerks himself a little faster, using his free hand to reach up to rub at a nipple, and he whimpers. Kurt lets out a groan he's not aware of even making and palms himself through his jeans, watching with rapt attention as the muscles in Blaine's shoulder and arm flex, the way the shiny red head of his cock appears and disappears in the tight circle of his fist. He's aching with want and need, brain fuzzy with arousal and unyielding desire to go to Blaine's house and fuck him senseless. He wonders if that's exactly what Blaine's thinking about right now, if he's envisioning Kurt pinning him down into the sheets and fucking him hard and rough until he can't speak and can't concentrate.
"I've imagined your fingers in me for awhile," Blaine says. His voice has dropped and holds a scratchy, wrecked quality Kurt's never heard before. "You know, opening me up for your long, thick cock."
"Me too," Kurt whispers, and he can't even be bothered that he's speaking to someone who can't even hear him. He has, but he'd been too afraid to bring it up with Blaine when they had their heart-to-heart, too afraid he wouldn't want it or that he'd think that Kurt wasn't ready or that he'd only ever want to be the one to hold that kind of power. It's dumb, Kurt knows that, but underneath it all he's insecure and unused to the devotion and affection Blaine shows toward him. Kurt finally pops the button on his jeans and lifts his hips off the chair to slide them down to mid-thigh, leaving his briefs on for now.
Blaine reaches for something on the bed that Kurt can't quite make out and then there's some awkward shuffling, Blaine's lower lip trapped between his teeth as he shifts and oh. He's dropped to his hands and knees, ass facing the camera and legs spread wide. Thanks to the near-perfect quality and just enough lighting from the various lamps Blaine has spaced throughout his room Kurt can clearly see Blaine's cock and balls hanging heavy and full between his legs. His back is bowed towards the bed and he brings a hand back to his ass. Lube glistens on his fingers in the semi-dim light of his room.
Kurt tries to control his breathing as Blaine slips his index finger in and crooks it with a soft moan. He's panting by the time he adds another finger, hips jerking down towards the bed as he slips his index and middle fingers in to the last knuckle. Kurt's heart is pounding, head spinning as he fidgets restlessly in his chair, aching to touch but too ashamed to do so as he remembers just what those fingers had felt like inside him, searching and so long. He should really stop this video now and call Blaine, demanding that he come over so that they can do this in person so that he doesn't feel like a weird perv who'd just stumbled upon a video recorded from a hole cut in a wall.
But he doesn't and he knows he never would. Blaine had done this for him because he knows how much Kurt hates talking about sex and porn and any intimacy that isn't PG-13; this is his way of opening them both up more, metaphorically. And maybe they are perfect for each other and maybe they do balance each other out like any good couple should be able to do.
Maybe Kurt's just so in love he's physically in pain sometimes and he'd have it no other way.
Blaine's up to three fingers know, twisting and spreading in a steady rhythm that has his hips stuttering and the bed creaking slightly. He's moaning almost obscenely and if Kurt listens carefully he thinks he can hear his name in there somewhere, vowels stretched and long and reedy with Blaine's want.
"Fuck," Kurt hisses, finally giving in, pushing down his briefs and grasping his cock in his hand, feeling it twitch, hot and heavy and aching. "Blaine."
His strokes are desperate, his eyes glued to the screen as Blaine flips over onto his back and draws his legs up, knees bent, spread open and wide. His hole is stretched just enough to be noticeable, his cock lying hard against his abdomen. Blaine gropes for something on the bed next to his pillow, and when he finally grabs it and brings it down between his legs Kurt squeezes his cock a little too hard. It's a dildo. Blaine has a dildo and the head of it is pressing against his hole before he apparently thinks better and pauses. Blaine has probably used it before, oh god, used it and thought of Kurt, maybe of anonymous guys before they met and started dating. It's been inside Blaine, been in that tight heat that Kurt wants to feel around his own cock.
Blaine lifts himself up, resting on his elbows, and he locks eyes with the camera for the briefest of moments before he's opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the toy, oh fuckfuckfuck, and sliding it into his mouth, lips a tight suction around the replicated shaft.
Watching his boyfriend fellate a sex toy could be the thing that ends everything, Kurt decides. Seeing Blaine bob his head, hollow his cheeks and make slurping noises that shouldn't go straight to Kurt's cock but do is almost enough to end things right here. Blaine pulls back, swirls his tongue around the head and Kurt keens, bucking up into his fist and feeling sweat prickle at his skin. He feels too tight under his shirt, inside his own skin as his boyfriend sucks off an inanimate object that isn't him and it so isn't fair.
When Blaine brings the toy between his legs a second time, he meets the camera's lens again and winks. "Whenever I use this," Blaine says, voice a little hoarse now the way it is when he's close, Kurt's come to realize, "I do that and I think of you." Kurt lets out a strangled groan-gasp-growl hybrid. Images of Blaine face down, ass up, hand working the toy at a dizzying pace, of him on his back like he is now, spread out and wanton, moaning freely without the restriction of parents or siblings, these all flash through Kurt's mind rapidly.
They're having a talk, it's official. Blaine's never mentioned any of this and Kurt had never known that he wanted any of this as badly as he does now. He's jittery, shaking like his body doesn't know what emotion to act on. He thumbs the head of his cock and draws the pre-come around, twisting his wrist as he slides down and back up.
Blaine presses in with a steady hand, going slowly. He moans, the noise tapering off at the end to something in the back of his throat, something Kurt wants to replay again and again. When his fingers meet his flesh he stills before sliding out to the tip and pushing his hips up to bring the toy back in. Blaine's getting louder now, his noises so shameless and frequent that Kurt has to actually turn down his volume slightly even though he's the only one home. Blaine fucks up into the toy, body bent nearly double as he twists on his elbow to watch it disappear inside of him in a blur of lubed silicon, his cock bouncing, untouched, against his abdomen. His mouth is open, sweat barely shining on his brow. Eyebrows furrowed, crease set in his forehead as he concentrates on bringing himself off.
"Fuck," Blaine whimpers, tossing his head back as his hips fuck up quicker, the muscles in his arms flexing as his thighs twitch, legs spreading impossibly wider. "Oh, Kurt, shit. Fuck me, please. Harder." He's whining, now, moans mingling in when he changes angles and must hit his prostate.
And hearing Blaine, strong, dapper Blaine who had been so restrained and tender last time, lose it like this, beg for Kurt and thrust his hips with an abandon Kurt has never seen before, is what tips him over the edge. He barely has time to push away from his desk before he's coming in hot splashes over his hand and the plain t-shirt he has on, Blaine's name frozen on his lips as he tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling.
He looks back at the screen just as Blaine's coming, wrist moving so fast his hand and the toy are nearly blurs. He can see the faint splashes of white paint across Blaine's torso as he moans deep in his throat, his chest, back arching and hand finally stilling as he catches his breath and splays out on the bed. Kurt ejects the disc and gives himself a moment to collect his thoughts. He just watched his boyfriend fuck himself on a dildo. He'd watched him jerk off and come on video. Kurt doesn't know if he could love Blaine more than he does at this moment.
After cleaning up and changing into an old black tank top, Kurt grabs his iPhone from where it had been resting on the bed and drafts a message to Blaine, hesitating before finally sending it.
Next time we're alone together, I'm going to fuck you senseless, Blaine Anderson.
Because he has a boyfriend, right? And that's what boyfriends who love each other do, right?
At least those who have boyfriends who make "educational" videos do.