Wow, okay, so this somehow spawned into a whole 'verse (and it's now entitled "Aubergine Dreams"!) All titles come from Panic! At The Disco's A Fever You Can't Sweat Out inset
Warnings are: facials, breathplay, genderplay, a whole hell of a lot of dirty talk, possessivness. Once again, Blaine's outfit is on my Tumblr if you want to have a visual.
Reviewers (and rebloggers on Tumblr), oh my god I'm so happy you all love this. It means so much, especially since I was apprehensive about posting the first chapter in the first place.
TUMBLR IS THAT WAY
endofadream [.] tumblr [.] com
xxxxXxxxx
When Blaine had said a lot more, he had meant it.
Kurt wonders when his life had begun to revolve around nightly fantasies of his boyfriend modeling in a Victoria's Secret show, but he supposes that it has something to do with Blaine's once-secret stash of fine, expensive lingerie, ranging from silks to meshes to laces and frills, bows and straps and ties, to thigh-high stockings in blacks and pinks and sheers, all decorated with bows and attachable garters and lace, sometimes ruffles and sometimes fishnets.
They're upstairs in Blaine's room, door locked (in case Cooper, who's visiting for a week, decides to unexpectedly drop in) and the drawers of his vanity opened. Kurt's eyes had widened at first at the sight of row upon row of silky, brightly-colored fabrics and again he wonders why Blaine has waited so long to tell him.
Either way, he's glad Blaine is now and that he feels comfortable enough to show Kurt everything all at once.
"When did you even buy all this?" Kurt asks curiously, fingering a pair of plain pink silk panties. Paired underneath them are ribbed pink stockings with garters and bows on the bands. He imagines Blaine buying this all online, trying it on when it arrives, and he sucks in a breath through his teeth, closing his eyes briefly to calm himself.
When he opens then again Blaine is still looking through the drawers, running his fingers along the ruffles of a particularly adorable (sexy) pair of turquoise-and-gray panties. He doesn't answer right away, seemingly off in his own world, and Kurt wonders if it's a new thing or if Blaine's known nearly as long as he's known that he's gay.
"About two years ago?" Blaine finally says, then shrugs, like it's no big deal. "Before I went to Dalton. I don't buy very often, though. Just if I'm…feeling the need."
Kurt's abdomen floods with heat at the thought of Blaine having all this back before they even knew each other, back during their unfortunate "friends" phase, but it's counteracted by the obvious sadness in Blaine's voice, at the despondent way he picks up a plain back garter belt and puts it back halfheartedly.
Kurt places his hand on top of Blaine's. Blaine looks up and Kurt gives him a smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand. "You can tell me," he says softly, stepping a little closer to place his other palm on Blaine's cheek. Blaine unconsciously leans into the touch and lets out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering closed, and Kurt loves that Blaine looks his most serene when Kurt's hands are on him or Kurt's inside him one way or another.
"I feel sexy when I'm doing this," Blaine whispers, looking like he wants to roll his eyes at himself and how silly he's being. "It's hard to feel sexy when people are throwing insults at you on a day-to-day basis and spray-painting horrible words on your locker."
"You're beautiful," Kurt replies instantly. "You always have been, always will be. All of this"—he gestures toward the drawer—"just enhances that."
Blaine rolls his eyes this time but smiles anyway, gratefully squeezing Kurt's hand. "You're such a sap sometimes," he says fondly. "But I love you."
"Mm and I love you, too," Kurt replies, ducking his head to give Blaine a quick peck. "Now what do you say we go downstairs and have some coffee instead of going out?"
xxxxXxxxx
Since school's started back up they've had less and less time to spend together. There have been tests and graduation plans and apartment-browsing with Rachel to avoid dealing with dorms, and Blaine's been looking at college apps for next year. Kurt's been nervous about his NYADA auditions for months despite Blaine's constant reassurances that you're the best Lima has to offer, baby, don't even sweat it.
(Kurt knows he's good; he's not blind. But he's Ohio good, not New York good, and he doesn't have the heart to tell Blaine that, nor does he have the patience to suffer through every single one of Blaine's motivational speeches he has memorized for occasions like these.)
It's a blessing to have this day alone, even if it's only for a few hours, and making a pot of coffee with Blaine makes Kurt itch for the next year to fly by so that Blaine can join him in New York and they can find creative ways to kick Rachel out for extended periods of time.
Kurt slides Blaine's mug over to him after putting in the last drip of hazelnut creamer, and Blaine beams his thanks, wrapping his fingers around the handle and lifting the mug to his lips. He blows softly and closes his eyes as he takes a sip. Kurt's immediately struck at how beautiful Blaine looks in this moment, how peaceful and worry-free for once with no lines furrowing his forehead and mouth. There is no looming graduation, no memories of bullies and backstabbing friends. There's just them, learning each other and existing in their own world.
Kurt picks up his mug and they take their coffee to the huge oak table in the dining room, pulling back chairs across from each other and sitting down. They drink in silence, communicating only with eyes and soft touches. It's still two hours before Blaine's dad his due home and he tends to run late most nights, anyway.
Finally, when Kurt's down to the very dregs of his mug Blaine clears his throat and looks up, gnawing on his lower lip. Kurt tilts his head in confusion, crinkling his nose as Blaine continues to stare. "What?"
Blaine swallows. "What would you say if I had something a little different than just panties and stockings?"
Kurt raises an eyebrow but doesn't express anything else. "I'd ask what it is."
Blaine laughs and bobs his head in a nod, looking at the large seasonal floral centerpiece on the table. "You wouldn't judge me?"
"Blaine, my god," Kurt sighs. "How long have we been dating?"
"Right. Uh. I, um…" Blaine coughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have something a little more…full-bodied, but I had to get rid of the underwear."
Kurt raises his eyebrow but only wraps his hand around his coffee mug, not saying anything. It's amazing that Blaine is still shy about all of this even though they've been using the lingerie for a few weeks now and Kurt has not been shy about his appreciation of the view of Blaine's ass clad in thin silk or cotton. Blaine refuses to look at him and instead stares down into the contents of his own mug like it will somehow blurt out the reason for him instead.
Finally Kurt sighs and rolls his eyes, leaning across the table to take Blaine's hand. "Blaine, honey," he says gently, "you know you can tell me anything. We went into this together and I love it, you know that. You look more beautiful with every new thing you put on, and I'm so glad you trust me enough with all of this because I do want to share it with you."
"It was a g-string," Blaine blurts out suddenly, face reddening further. He takes a gulp of his coffee and Kurt winces for him, stroking his thumb idly along the back of Blaine's hand and wordlessly telling him to calm down. So, this mysterious full-bodied outfit had come with a thong. There was nothing wrong with that. "And…I would have kept it," Blaine says, continuing, "but this one, unlike the others, wasn't made for…men."
Kurt inhales. So that's why. Things made for women were naturally more provocative, sure, since they had more assets—for lack of a better word—to work with, and though Blaine was tiny and fairly trim for a guy, a woman's size in panties would most definitely not work.
"So you got another pair." It's a statement, not a query.
"I got another pair," Blaine says, finally meeting Kurt's eyes. There's a darkened tint to them that Kurt's pleased to see has finally made its comeback. "They're the same style, just tailored for, uh, men."
"And what does this mysterious outfit look like?"
Blaine smirks, then, licks his lips and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. Kurt unconsciously mirrors his movement, still keeping his hand on Blaine's, and squirms slightly in his seat at the sudden roughness of Blaine's voice. "Well," he drawls, rolling the word around in his mouth and drawing it out like silly putty, "it's black with bandage-style straps and sheer in the middle—front only—but cut out on the sides. There's a halter neckline and a garter that attaches to the matching stockings."
Kurt swallows, his mouth dry and cock beginning to press uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans. "And the underwear?" he croaks out, tightening his grip slightly on Blaine's hand.
Blaine continues to smile and leans closer until he and Kurt are inches apart, their faces beginning to blur. All Kurt can see is wide hazel and pink lips pulled upward. All he can hear is Blaine's soft breathing and the harsh pounding his heart.
"And the underwear," Blaine whispers, "is not the pair that came with the outfit, but it is a matching replica." He works his hand out from under Kurt's, leans forward to rest his palms on the table until his mouth is level with Kurt's ear. "It's a sexy black g-string that I would love for you to push aside before you fuck me senseless."
Kurt inhales, swallowing his gasp at the image. Blaine's description is vague at best, but Kurt's mind is helpful enough to try and fill in the blanks, to piece together Blaine's description with his body, to help him imagine Blaine bent over the bed, pressed against the wall, on all fours, on top of him…and he finally loses it, seizing the collar of Blaine's shirt to tug him forward and mash their lips together, incapable for a few seconds of doing nothing but taking in the feeling of Blaine's soft lips under his; then he's parting his own lips, licking along the seam of Blaine's mouth until he opens like a box who's found its key. He tastes, comes across coffee and cinnamon and hazelnut. He moans.
"Please tell me you can show me now," he asks quietly. "Please, Blaine."
Blaine's breathing just as hard, chest heaving. He nods and then Kurt's standing up, leaving his half-full mug on the table and crossing over to Blaine's side to grab his hand and tug him away and up the stairs to his bedroom.
At the middle of the steps Kurt slams Blaine against the wall, slotting a leg between Blaine's thighs to press upward, and Blaine groans into his mouth, fingers digging into Kurt's hips. He's steadily losing control, Kurt knows it, but he can't find it in himself to care, not with the promises hanging over his head.
"God, I want to fuck you so bad," he whispers against Blaine's neck, taking his time to gently bite and suck, feeling Blaine shudder underneath him, his neck craning to the side as his hands come to rest in Kurt's hair. "I don't care how, but I need you."
"Need you, too," Blaine whimpers, grinding against Kurt's thigh. He sounds just as wrecked, if not more so. "Oh—Jesus—Kurt."
They finally stumble up to Blaine's door, Kurt's hand firmly on Blaine's ass and Blaine's hand pushed up under Kurt's shirt. "I—I have to change," Blaine gasps when Kurt takes his lower lip between his teeth and tugs gently. "W-wait out here."
Kurt whines and pouts but pulls back, running his tongue over his swollen lips. Blaine looks wrecked already, hair mussed and sticking up, lips just as red and slick and swollen. "Hurry up," he begs, pushing Blaine through the open door.
Blaine gives a jerky nod and steps in, hand closing around the handle to shut the door, but before he can Kurt puts his foot out, stopping it. Blaine looks at him, confused, and Kurt half-lids his eyes, channels his voice into what he hopes is a smoky purr, and says, "Remember, I want the whole package. Underwear and all."
Blaine blushes and closes the door.
xxxxXxxxx
Blaine's in his en suite bathroom when Kurt steps into the room. He stands in the middle of the floor, fidgeting, as he waits for the door to open, for Blaine to step out and show him.
And he's not disappointed when it happens.
He hears the turn of the knob and the creak of the hinges first and immediately snaps his head toward the direction of the bathroom. He holds his breath, unaware that he's doing it, as Blaine steps out.
"Oh my god." Kurt closes his eyes and groans, feeling the sudden spark in his chest travel down to his groin. "Blaine, Jesus fuck."
Blaine's leaning on the doorframe, hip popped, and the outfit is even better than how he described it. The bandage-style black strips of fabric start at the middle of his chest, over his nipples, and continue down to close to mid-thigh. The mesh is there, dark in the front, and the halter top is the same black fabric wrapped in a tight circle around Blaine's neck and connected to the body with two strips of black. The underwear is the smallest piece of fabric Kurt's ever seen and does nothing to hide the outline Blaine's straining half-hard cock.
The stockings are different (and god how many does he own), just a plain black attached to the chemise with thin black garters, and everything is so tight, molding to Blaine's every curve and muscle. If Kurt didn't know better, he'd think that this outfit had been made for a man, not a woman. How Blaine wears everything so well he'll never know, but he does know that he'll never complain.
"Turn around," Kurt says, willing his voice to stop shaking. Blaine beams at him and steps forward, turning gracefully on the spot. The chemise's straps continue in the same pattern down his back but without the mesh; instead of the usual full-butt underwear Kurt is rewarded with a thin black strip above the rounded cheeks of Blaine's ass that disappears into the cleft.
"You weren't kidding," he near-whispers, stepping forward to run his finger along one of the strips. Blaine keeps his back to Kurt but he turns his head and Kurt can see the faint rise of an eyebrow.
"I wouldn't kid about that," he says, reaching around to take Kurt's hand. He slowly turns his body to meet Kurt's eyes, to press up against Kurt's chest. "I do this all for you."
Kurt lets a soft noise that he can't even place escape his mouth. His eyes flicker from Blaine's eyes, down to his neck, the length of his body and the straining weight of his cock against his underwear, and he raises an eyebrow. "You do it for yourself, too."
Blaine laughs and leans up to press his lips softly against Kurt's, working his fingers between Kurt's in the hand he's still holding. When he settles back on the flat of his feet Kurt's eyes flutter open, heart racing already, and hooks his index finger underneath the fabric wrapped around Blaine's neck, drawing it away from the skin and pulling slightly. Blaine lets out a small gasp, his own eyes closing again, and tilts his head back, away from Kurt to increase the pressure.
Kurt lets his free hand slide down Blaine's side, letting his palm bump along the slight resistance of the straps, and curves around until he's cupping one of Blaine's cheeks in his palm. He squeezes and Blaine moans, pushing back and reaching behind himself to grab Kurt's hand and slide it over to the divide between his cheeks. There's the faintest feel of silky fabric there and Kurt draws in a shuddery breath, moving his other hand from Blaine's neck down to Blaine's other cheek, squeezing tightly again before drawing him open.
Blaine groans, murmuring "Kurt" and drawing it out, taking his time on the R. Kurt hooks his chin over Blaine's shoulder to look down his back, watch as he draws Blaine's cheeks apart to expose the thin black string leading down to where it finally connects with the underwear just behind Blaine's balls. He keeps Blaine open the best he can with one hand and moves the other to hook a finger around the strap at the top of his ass, drawing it away and between his fingers before letting it snap back down. Blaine moans loudly and jerks forward.
"God, Blaine," he whispers, turning his head to press sloppy kisses against the side of Blaine's neck, feeling the moan continue under his lips. "The things you do to me."
He turns his head, pulls back, and then they're kissing deep and wet and dirty, Blaine's tongue slipping between his lips to trace along his teeth and the soft inside of his cheek. A hint of dark desperation plays at the edges like a looming fog. He clenches his hands in Blaine's hair, tugs and pulls until Blaine's pressed tight against him, moaning into his mouth. He drops his hand to run his palm down the mesh front of the chemise, down further and under the hem to cup Blaine's cock and rub along the outline, feel the heat seep into his palm.
Blaine whines and pulls away with saliva-slicked lips, pushing his ass back further before into Kurt's touch, his body bowing into Kurt's chest. "Please," he begs. "Kurt, just…do something. Anything, god." He presses their mouths together again, kissing sloppy and desperate, and fists his hands into Kurt's hair.
"The things I plan on doing to you," Kurt whispers back, sliding a leg between Blaine's thighs and feeling the resistance brought on by the garters as he presses up. "I want to do so much to you, Blaine. I—bend over."
Blaine blinks at him, obviously confused, and Kurt feels his face heat with embarrassment at his sudden apparent lack of a filter. "You want me to bend over?" Blaine asks hoarsely, cheeks tinged a light red, and it's obvious that Kurt's words have had an effect. That's something that still makes Kurt swell with pride—the knowledge that he can do this to Blaine so easily, that all he has to do is say a few words and Blaine's collected demeanor crumbles immediately.
"Yes," Kurt says, running his hand down Blaine's side to rest at his hip, squeezing. His face is still red but most of the embarrassment has dissipated to be replaced with the familiar want. His cock is digging painfully into his zipper, skin feeling too-tight under his too-many layers. "Against the bed."
Blaine kisses him, a quick peck, and then he's stepping back, walking toward his bed. He glances back at Kurt once more before bracing his hands on the edge of his bed and spreading his legs, jutting his ass up.
Kurt sucks in a breath and squeezes his cock at the sudden surge of arousal. This position stretches the chemise slightly, the hem riding up to rest just at the crease where ass becomes thigh. It digs in and rucks the stockings up slightly, stretching perfectly over the curve of Blaine's ass. The spread of Blaine's cheeks allows more of the thong to show—a dark, promising shadow—and Kurt's steps up to stand behind Blaine, running his palms over Blaine's ass, over the straps of the chemise and down to the stockings.
"Beautiful," he breathes, stroking gentle fingers down tanned skin made slightly scratchy by fine dark hairs. He can feel the muscles working under his touch, everything flexing as Blaine stands, immobile under Kurt's careful scrutiny.
Blaine squirms, either from the touch or the anticipation of what Kurt could do next, and shifts on his feet. "Well?" he finally asks, shaking his ass enticingly, his voice holding that playful, flirty tilt that Kurt loves. Kurt whimpers at the sight, digs his fingers into the ample flesh of Blaine's cheeks, and that tilt of Blaine's voice deepens and drags into sex as he pushes back slightly, brushing against the front of Kurt's jeans.
Kurt reaches around the front of Blaine's thighs, fumbling blindly for the garters and unhooking them when he finds them. When the chemise is no longer restricted he pushes it up further until Blaine's ass is bared.
"I should fuck you like this," Kurt muses, pulling the string of Blaine's thong aside to thumb drily over his asshole. "Just you against the bed with nowhere to go other than back on my cock."
Blaine moans, high and clear and reedy, and practically sobs out Kurt's name as he grinds back against his thumb. "Please, please," he gasps. His self-control is quickly beginning to unravel like a cheap wool sweater, everything dropping and coiling at his feet to leave him open and bare and vulnerable in the most delicious of ways. It's intoxicating, the way he begs, the way he looks when he's like this.
It's the side of Blaine no one, not even the Warblers, got to see. It's the Blaine who's not as sure about himself as it would seem; it's the Blaine who's been bullied, beaten up, stabbed by friends and yelled at by friends and forgotten by friends. This is Kurt's Blaine, no one else's. And Kurt cherishes this Blaine just as much as he cherishes the public one.
Kurt leans down, draping himself over Blaine's back, and cups Blaine's cock through the thin material of the fabric, feeling where it's soaked with pre-come. "Do you like that?" he whispers into Blaine's ear, slipping Blaine's cock out and feeling it pulse, hot and hard and slick already, in his hand. "Does this make you feel sexy?"
"Yes!" Blaine's voice climbs higher as he arches against Kurt's chest. Kurt traces his tongue along the shell of Blaine's ear, buries his nose in dark curls that still retain the faint smell of strong-hold gel. "God, yes, Kurt. So sexy with you like this."
"Do you want me to fuck you like this?" Kurt asks, lips still pressed against Blaine's ear. He palms over the head of Blaine's cock to slick his movements the best he can before stroking tight up-down once, leaving Blaine rocking against him and moaning low in his throat. "Just like this, fast and slick and rough, with your chemise still on and your sexy little panties pushed aside?"
Blaine only moans, squeezing his eyes shut. "Tell me," Kurt whispers into Blaine's ear, tightening his grip and twisting his wrist at the head, the way that makes Blaine's toes curl without fail every single time. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you. You know that."
"Oh my god," Blaine gasps again. "Oh my god." He turns his head, seeking out Kurt, and presses their mouths hard together when he finds him, their lips sliding wetly, sloppily, as Kurt works over Blaine's cock. "Fuck me," he says against Kurt's lips, his voice shaking and his shoulders quivering. His arms tremble where he holds himself up and he looks wild, hair sticking up, eyes huge and blown black-hazel like the hide of a bumblebee. "Fuck me just like you said. I want it, god, yes. I need it."
Kurt kisses him once more and draws away. He lightly pats one of Blaine's cheeks fondly and Blaine startles slightly at the touch, sucking in a breath through his teeth. "Good boy," Kurt murmurs, stroking over flesh, running his fingers along the chemise to feel where it's stretched taut against Blaine's side. "My perfect, pretty little boy."
Blaine whines, his cock jumping in Kurt's hand, and Kurt would be more surprised at what he's saying if it didn't have such an obvious, wanted effect on Blaine. Where this all is coming from he doesn't know—by nature he's not usually that much of a possessive person, but hearing mine roll off his tongue the way it did, seeing Blaine's back shiver and ripple at the simple word, feeling his cock jump in his grasp, this all awakens something new, something thrilling and exciting and perfect.
"Be back in a second," he murmurs against Blaine's shoulder, giving him a parting kiss. "Need to get the lube."
He sheds clothes as he goes, dropping layer after layer onto the floor until he's in nothing but boxer-briefs. He rummages around in Blaine's nightstand, pushing papers and CDs and pens aside until he finds the bottle. He shuts the drawer and looks up at the end of the bed where Blaine is still bent, where he's looking at Kurt with darkened hazel eyes and swollen red lips. Kurt can just barely see Blaine's cock hanging heavy between his legs; he's more entranced with the way the halter of the chemise is wrapped around Blaine's throat, how amazingly beautiful it looks against his tanned skin.
He thinks back to how he'd pulled on that collar-like strap before, how Blaine had gasped and pulled further away to increase the pressure against his windpipe. Breathplay hasn't ever been something he's really thought about because of risks and the sheer fact that it wasn't something that he himself found particularly arousing. In his opinion it's dangerous and foolish.
But maybe, with Blaine, it wouldn't be.
"Miss me?" he teases once he takes his place behind Blaine again. He presses soft kisses starting between Blaine's shoulder blades that move down along the dips and ridges of his spine between the thick straps. He stops at mid-back, leaning up and bending forward again to cup Blaine's face and press their lips together.
"Mm, always," Blaine replies, breathless.
Kurt smiles softly and pops open the cap with his thumbnail, straightening up and pouring some lube onto his fingers. He warms it up before he pushes aside the strap of Blaine's thong and rubs the slick pad of his index finger over Blaine's hole. Without waiting for anything other than Blaine's shaky exhale he pushes in, rubbing along the side of Blaine's hip to help him relax.
Blaine moans softly, wordlessly, and rocks back onto Kurt's finger. He tilts his ass up a little higher, spaces his legs a little further apart, and Kurt would be laughing at his silent way of begging for more if he wasn't so damn turned on right now.
Swiveling his finger slightly, he pulls out to the tip and crosses his middle finger over his index and then pushes back in, groaning under his breath at the way Blaine clenches around him, the way he gasps and moans.
"You feel so good," he murmurs. "So tight. It feels good opening up for me, doesn't it, sweetheart?"
"Yes," Blaine replies instantly, rocking back onto the balls of his feet. He circles his hips, reaches back to stroke shaking fingers along the delicate bones of Kurt's wrist. "Yes, oh, shit." He swallows and ducks his head, hand falling down to fist his cock. "More, baby."
Kurt obliges, pulling his fingers out completely to re-slick three of them, crossing them before teasing the rim of Blaine's hole, stroking along the slowly-stretching flesh and the smooth, dark skin surrounding it. When he pushes three in Blaine's back bows and his moan is sudden, loud, like it's almost ripped out of him, cracking in the middle and fraying in the end to a ragged pant.
He crooks his fingers, working slowly in and out until Blaine jolts forward, letting out a choked sound. Kurt smirks and presses against that spot again, rubbing gently and purposefully until Blaine's almost sobbing. "So good for me," Kurt whispers, draping himself over Blaine's back again to kiss him. Blaine whines into his mouth when Kurt stretches his fingers as far as he's allowed, tracing along the stretched rim with the pad of his thumb.
"You look so filthy like this," he whispers, twisting his fingers and shooing Blaine's hand away from his cock. He thumbs over the head and says, "So ready for me, aren't you. So willing to be fucked until you're crying from how good it is."
Without waiting for an answer Kurt slides his fingers out and picks up the lube from where he'd dropped it onto the bed. Blaine twists to look back at him, mouth swollen and eyes wide, dark and hooded and waiting, a bright, sparking pinprick like lightning flashing when his eyes meet Kurt's. Kurt holds this gaze as he pours some lube onto his palm and slicks up his cock with twisting strokes, rubbing the extra around Blaine's hole.
He presses close and grasps his cock to rub the slick head along the cleft of Blaine's ass, over his lube-slick stretched hole and the thin strap of his underwear. Blaine clenches his fists in the comforter and groans, pressing his forehead against a tangled mess of browns and reds. He pushes back, unwilling to remove his hands from the bed. "You're so slow, oh my god," he complains, voice slightly muffled by the sheets.
Kurt laughs and playfully swats at Blaine's ass, letting the quiet sound of skin-on-skin and Blaine's surprised gasp ring out. "I'm just enjoying the view. Now shush."
Blaine falls silent and the chemise is pushed up slightly, the hem resting at the swell of Blaine's ass with the garters dangling free in the front. The black silk stockings are pushed slightly down to just above Blaine's knees and Kurt takes his time in pulling them up, letting the bands snap loudly against Blaine's skin.
"Kurt," Blaine whines, shuffling backward to grind against Kurt's slick, hard cock, letting out a pleased, breathy noise when it slides wetly between his cheeks. "C'mon."
"All right, all right." Kurt draws Blaine's underwear away and takes his cock in his other hand, lining up and pushing slowly in. Blaine stiffens before gradually forcing himself to relax, fingers clenching and unclenching as Kurt bottoms out.
Kurt's eyes flutter closed at the familiar clenching heat, the tiny tremors and spasms of Blaine's body as he adjusts. This is his favorite part—the beginning, the initial reactions when they're both catching their breath and inching toward the good side of the burning stretch. Blaine, slack-jawed and eyes squeezed shut, always looks the best when he's trying to remember how to breathe.
"Oh, fuck." Blaine's voice is thin, guttural and shaky, and he clenches purposefully around Kurt's cock, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, like he's testing. He's really teasing, Kurt knows, and the tightness around his cock spurs him on. He pulls out to the tip and fucks back in, rough and fast.
Blaine falls to his elbows with a surprised yelp, ass pushed high, and grunts with every thrust into him. Kurt can't resist grabbing one of the straps in the middle of Blaine's back and holding as he pounds in, hips slapping lewdly against Blaine's ass with each thrust, and pulling, tugging Blaine slightly up.
"You're so pretty," Kurt grunts, tightening his fingers, one hand still on the strap, the other on Blaine's hip. He rucks up the chemise just a little further to give him a full view, letting go of the strap to do so. "So fuckable. So mine." He watches the slide of his cock in between Blaine's ample cheeks, watches Blaine stretch around him, and pauses to wonder when Blaine became his.
Blaine huffs a breath in frustration, pushing forward before back to fuck himself on Kurt's cock. The strap of the thong rubs against the side of Kurt's cock when he pulls out again, a reminder that Blaine is still wearing his underwear, that this is happening, and he moans and sets up a steady, unrelenting pace that has Blaine swaying on the spot and grunting every other labored exhale in, feet planted wide to keep his balance. The bed creaks as Blaine's weight is pushed against it.
"Oh, god," Blaine groans, dropping his head down. "Oh, fuck, Kurt." He rests his weight on one forearm and brings his hand down, grasping his cock and jerking himself off roughly. "I'm yours, yoursyoursyours."
The absolute certainty in Blaine's voice nearly tips Kurt over the edge; his cock twitches inside Blaine and it takes all of his self-control to hold back, to take a deep breath and tighten his hold on Blaine's hips, to space his own feet wider and close his eyes. He lets go of everything: his inhibitions, the nagging voice that says he may be hurting Blaine, and presses his chest against Blaine's back, wrapping his arms around Blaine's chest and angling his hips up.
"Yes, yes," Blaine's chanting, body rocking as he works his cock through his fist. "Fuck me, fuck."
Kurt swallows and pulls back with a parting kiss to Blaine's shoulder, licks his lips and looks down, eyes roving over Blaine's sweaty back, over the black straps stretched against strong muscles, up to his shoulders, to the strap around his neck.
The strap.
Oh.
The strap.
That's when he remembers and that's when he lets go of Blaine's shoulder and curls his fingers in the strap, tugging back enough that Blaine's head tips back and he lets out a strangled-sounding surprised groan. Any words he might have said get cut off as Kurt tightens and pulls a little further. Like this he can barely see the dark fan of Blaine's eyelashes against the tops of his cheeks, their fluttering as Blaine opens and closes his eyes with each labored inhale.
Blaine moans, but it sounds strangled and forced, rough and gritty like gravel. He cants his hips up a little further, opens himself up a little more to take what Kurt wants to give him. He manages to gasp out "Harder" and Kurt complies, hips pressing against Blaine's ass with dull, muted slaps.
There's no warning when Blaine comes, just the tightening of his back, bowstring-taut, and his choked-off wail as he spasms around Kurt's cock and comes in pulses over the side of his comforter. Immediately Kurt lets go of the strap around Blaine's neck and Blaine takes in a great shuddery breath, his exhale coming out as a broken sob as he collapses to his knees.
Kurt kneels down and takes Blaine's face in his hands, heart pounding and an electric-sharp fissure running quick through him as he notices the twin tear streaks running down Blaine's cheeks. "Oh god," he breathes. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, honey, shit."
Blaine shakes his head vehemently, managing a tired, sated little smile. He places his hand over one of Kurt's and blinks tear-damp lashes, his hazel eyes as bright and vibrant as ever. "More than okay," he says hoarsely, and Kurt's cock jumps because he did that, oh my god, Blaine sounds like that because of me. "I'm fine, I promise. It was just…intense."
"Intense," Kurt repeats dubiously.
"Intense," Blaine reiterates, still smiling. His eyes flicker down to Kurt's cock, still hard and red and slick with lube, and he says, "Aren't you going to come, too?"
Kurt blushes but suddenly an idea flashes across his mind, something he's been wanting to try for months but had never quite worked up the appropriate amount of courage to ask. "Stay on your knees," he says when Blaine moves to get up as well. He receives an inquisitive look in return but Blaine stays where he's at, shuffling a little to get into a more comfortable position.
Kurt swallows and bites his lip, giving his cock an absent stroke as he thinks.
Blaine just let you practically choke him into orgasm. Do you think he's going to say no to this?
He takes a deep breath and looks down, cupping Blaine's face once again. "Is it…okay if I come on your face, sweet thing?" Kurt asks, running the backs of his fingers down Blaine's cheek. The skin is damp from sweat and those few salty tears, but Blaine is glowing and sated, loose-limbed and swaying in his spot on his knees.
"Yes," he croaks instantly, looking up at Kurt with unfocused eyes. "Oh, god, yes, Kurt. Please come on my face."
Kurt runs his hands through Blaine's hair, damp from sweat, the curls loose and twining around his fingers. He grips his cock, pulls hard from base to tip, thumbing over the head and the spot under the ridge. Moans, rocks forward, and repeats, repeats until his toes are curling into the carpet and his head is tilted back, little whines and groans falling from his lips as he gets closer and closer.
"Gonna come," he pants, blinking heavy eyes open and looking down at Blaine, who's apparently been looking up at him the whole time, transfixed, plush lips parted and waiting. "Blaine, I—"
Blaine closes his eyes at the last minute and opens his mouth a little wider as Kurt starts to come in quick pulses, strands of semen falling and arching over Blaine's brow, the slight bump in his nose, the perfect bow of his lips. Some lands on his chin, dripping down, some streaks across his cheek and into the dark hair of a sideburn.
"O-oh, god," Kurt whispers, stroking himself through it until he twitches from oversensitivity, and it's then that he blinks his eyes open and promptly groans again at the sight of Blaine covered in come—his come.
Blaine's own eyes flutter open, lock with Kurt's, and he smiles, running his tongue over his lips. The strand that had colored his chin has dripped off to splash against the top strap of the chemise.
"You're gorgeous," Kurt says, the words slipping past his lips without him registering it. He drops to his knees and grabs the back of Blaine's head, pulling him forward and into a kiss, ignoring the sticky cooling mess drying on Blaine's cheeks. "And I'm glad you're sharing all of this with me. I am."
Blaine pushes their mouths together again, nips at Kurt's lower lip to hear him moan. "I said I'd share everything in my life with you when I gave you that ring," he murmurs. In Kurt's arms he feels frail but strong, a blossoming flower in the ashes of a once-roaring fire.
Kurt feels the corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. "You mean the same ring where you said you'd be 'forever' my 'boy'?"
Blaine colors and tugs Kurt closer. "Yes," he says against the side of Kurt's neck. "Forever whatever you want me to be, wherever you want me to do."
"I think you've out-cheesed yourself, Anderson."
Blaine huffs and laugh and tugs Kurt back until they're both resting on the carpet. They'll worry in a few minutes about stripping the comforter and getting changed; for now the rug at the foot of Blaine's bed is comfortable and their arms are warm. "I'm only getting started."