Chapter 44: Mirror, Mirror!
Author's Note: Thanks to I hate mosquitos for a great idea.
Kurt unlocked the door to Nigel's apartment. Sliding his messenger bag off his shoulder, he pushed the door shut, and locked it. Dior! He needed a shower! He rubbed his fingers over each other, as he walked into the bedroom. He was never going to get used to all this sunblock; on the kids, on his hands. Ugh! It was even in his hair. He turned the shower on, and stripped. He adjusted the temperature and stepped into the water. Tipping his head back under the spray, he reached for the shampoo. His first day hadn't been too bad. The little ones didn't understand diplomatic, everything came out uncensored, which made them pretty damn funny. His voice had gotten quite the reaction; everything from "What's wrong with your voice?" to "You sound like a girl."
Except for getting up at what he considered a totally uncivilized hour, this camp counselor thing wasn't too bad. Wrapped in his navy robe, Kurt walked into the bedroom, towel drying his hair. This room needed some serious help, but with any luck, he could talk Nigel into moving to New York soon, so, not something he was going to worry about. Tossing his towel into the hamper in the washroom, Kurt walked into the kitchen, thinking about dinner. He didn't want to go out to eat, not tonight.
Nigel's fridge was depressingly empty, but his freezer was stuffed with frozen entrees. Not perfect, but good enough for one night. He pulled out a tin foil container of lasagna, and read the directions on the cardboard sleeve. He keyed the temperature to 375 F, and slid the lasagna into the oven. He played with the controls until he figured out how to get the oven to turn itself off in 45 minutes. If he and Nigel got side-tracked, Kurt smirked to himself, okay, when he and Nigel got side-tracked, he didn't want the pitiful excuse for dinner to burn. Riffling through the cupboards, he found plates, glasses, and cutlery, and set them out on what passed for a table in this miniscule kitchen, a counter overhang with two stools.
Checking the time on the microwave, he smiled as he walked back into the bedroom. Nigel should be home soon. Kurt stared at the bed, considering possibilities. The companion cuff to the one Nigel wore, yes, he definitely needed that. It wasn't hard to find, there were no dressers, or night tables, or desk drawers to look through. The built-ins in the surprisingly large walk-in closet held everything. Nestled in the blue lining of its original box, Kurt found the cuff along with the silver chain that linked it to Nigel's cuff. He attached the chain to the cuff, and set them aside while he looked through the suitcase that he hadn't quite unpacked yet. They were here somewhere, they had to be. They were practically the first thing he had packed. Now, where, ah! Folded into a long zippered compartment, two black silk sashes, and the blindfold that Nigel kept saying he didn't like. Kurt considered the blindfold, and decided against it. Tonight, he wanted Nigel to see everything.
Taking the sashes and the cuff, he closed the closet door, and examined the bed. He put the toys on a pillow, and folded the comforter and top sheet down to the foot of the bed. There, he smiled in satisfaction, a clean playing field.
Nigel smelled the lasagna, as soon as he entered the apartment. "Kurt?" He locked the door, and since he could see from the foyer that the living room and kitchen were empty, he walked towards the bedroom. "You made dinner?"
Hearing Nigel's voice, Kurt undid the belt of his robe, and tossed it over the footboard. He picked up the cuff, and turned towards the doorway, waiting.
Nigel froze on the threshold, eyes widening on 5'10" of naked, oh, God! Naked! Nigel's eyes went dark, and his hands reached for the buttons on his shirt. "I can see that I'm overdressed." Kurt shook his head, once, and Nigel's fingers stalled.
"Hands behind your back." Kurt used that voice, the one that made Nigel want to say, "Yes, yes, and yes, and please!"
His right hand wrapped around his left wrist at the small of his back, Nigel watched his lover walk towards him, the black cuff swinging enticingly off the tip of two fingers. Kurt stopped just in front of his boyfriend. "I don't have to tell you not to move, do I?"
Nigel was already drowning in Kurt's eyes. "No." He swallowed back the 'Sir'. It was always there, when Kurt went all 'You're going to do exactly what I say" on him, the impulse to say 'Sir'. Nigel knew the day would come when he couldn't keep from saying it. It wasn't Kurt's reaction that kept the words trapped inside. For a man who had very definite opinions about everything from politics to piercings, Kurt was very non-judgmental when it came to sex. No, he wasn't ready to accept this about himself. Regardless, of the fact that he loved being submissive with Kurt, the thought of actually saying 'Sir' made him cringe. He would feel like some porno caricature. No, he wasn't ready for that.
Kurt walked around Nigel. He unclasped Nigel's hands, attached the cuff to his left wrist, and guided his boyfriend's hands back into position. Kurt stood at Nigel's back, and reached around his lover, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Nigel tipped his head back on Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt nipped a bite along Nigel's neck. Spreading the shirt open, Kurt pulled it over Nigel's shoulders, and slid it down his arms. When the shirt caught on Nigel's clasped hands, Kurt unclasped them, and let the shirt fall to the floor. He clicked the chain from the left cuff to the silver loop on the right cuff, and Nigel's hands were handcuffed behind his back.
Kurt moved around Nigel, unbuckling, unzipping. His fingers danced over every inch of skin he uncovered. Kurt wound his arms around Nigel's neck, and flattened himself along the length of his boyfriend's naked body.
"Still perfect." One hand clenched in Nigel's hair, Kurt whispered the words against his lover's mouth, and Nigel's lips opened for Kurt.
Although, Kurt generally only said that when Nigel was naked, he knew that the words weren't about his body, they were about him. Nigel saw himself as kind of average, maybe even a little boring. The fact that Kurt thought he was perfect, made him feel like a god, like he could walk on air and shoot lightning bolts from his fingers. Melting into Kurt's mouth, Nigel knew he would do everything he could to make sure Kurt always felt the same way.
Kurt detached himself, eyes smoky, and smile teasing, he dragged his hands down Nigel's chest and cupped his hips. He walked backwards, drawing Nigel with him. When he felt the mattress behind him, Kurt stepped aside. With his hands cuffed behind his back, Nigel needed Kurt to help him onto the bed. "Kneel."
Kurt placed his hand flat on Nigel's back, and watched as Nigel obediently folded down onto the bed, head down, ass high. Without his hands to support himself, he turned his face to the side, cheek against the mattress.
Taking the silk sashes from the pillow, Kurt tied a noose into the end of one, and slid it up Nigel's leg, to the thigh. He did the same with the second sash, and slid it up the other leg.
"Open for me, Nigel." As his boyfriend spread his legs, Kurt traced his hands over Nigel's ass, and hips. He slid a finger under each sash, checking that they weren't too tight. Scrambling across the bed, Kurt tethered both sashes, one to a post in the headboard, the other to the footboard. Kurt walked around the bed, checking the tautness of the sashes.
"You okay? Comfortable?"
Nigel snorted. "I feel like a trussed-up Thanksgiving turkey, but nothing hurts."
Kurt grinned. "You look like a present." He climbed onto the bed, knelt behind Nigel and folded himself over his boyfriend. "A present I am very thankful for." Kurt nibbled at the base of Nigel's neck, and trailed kisses over his back, and down his spine.
Nigel sighed under Kurt's mouth. "I don't think this is what the Pilgrims had in mind."
Kurt nipped at Nigel's hips, and licked and kissed across his ass. "No? Why do you think the Puritans were trying so hard to be pure?" Using both hands, Kurt parted the globes of Nigel's ass, and licked a line over his hole. Nigel didn't answer as his mind went up in flames.
Kurt sucked and licked at the sensitive opening, his hands stroking Nigel's thighs. He closed a fist around Nigel's cock, and pumped it in sync with the thrust of his tongue. Nigel moaned, his balls drew tight, and Kurt backed off. He dialed both tongue and hands back, lighter, softer touches. Nigel whimpered beneath him, but Kurt made him wait before he started the whole process again. He pumped Nigel's cock, smearing pre-cum down the shaft, as his tongue fucked his ass. Nigel's breath hitched, the way it did just before he came, and Kurt backed off again.
"Kurt, please, I beg you."
"That's it, Nigel." Kurt's own arousal saturated his voice. "Just like that, beg." Kurt continued the soft licks and strokes, keeping both himself and Nigel just on the edge.
"Please, Kurt, please." Nigel groaned. "Oh, god, please!"
Nigel felt the mattress give, heard the bottle of lube rattle on the make-shift night table, and then Kurt was back. Slick fingers primed him, and Kurt entered fast and deep.
"Wait!"
Curled over Nigel, his forehead resting on Nigel's back, Kurt stilled, waiting for Nigel to open around him.
Nigel thrust back carefully and sighed, relaxing under Kurt. "Go."
Kurt started slow, listening to Nigel's body. "Nigel, look at the wall in front of you."
"What?" Nigel turned his eyes to the boring beige wall.
"Imagine that wall covered in mirror. You can see everything. You can watch me fuck you."
Kurt's whispered words created the image and Nigel's whole body responded. He ground against Kurt, wanting, just wanting.
When Nigel moved with him, Kurt leaned back, grabbed Nigel's hips and started a deep, forceful thrust.
"Yes! Kurt! God!"
One hand hard on Nigel's hip, fingers digging deep enough to leave bruises, Kurt reached around Nigel's body and fisted his cock. He shifted his knees slightly, angled his hips, and pounded into Nigel.
"Kurt, close. I can't…"
"Go, Nigel. I want to feel you."
Nigel flooded Kurt's fist with spunk, and clenched around Kurt's embedded cock. Kurt threw his head back. "Fuck!"
Kurt dragged himself off Nigel, and unlatched the chain holding the cuffs together. Nigel's arms fell like dead weights at his side. He was too blown away to even think of moving them. Kurt walked to the ensuite, on legs that weren't quite steady. He washed his hands and ran a facecloth under hot water for Nigel.
"Mmmm!" Nigel murmured his appreciation as Kurt worked the hot cloth over his back, and ass, and between his legs. Kurt tossed the cloth, in the direction of the ensuite, and set about untying Nigel's legs, before flopping down on the bed beside his boyfriend.
Nigel stretched, and then rolled on top of Kurt, devouring Kurt's mouth. Prying himself off Kurt, he slid off the bed.
"Hey! Where are you going?"
Nigel turned at the bedroom door, and grinned at Kurt. "I'll be right back."
Kurt turned onto his side, head resting on one arm. Nigel came flying back into the room, laptop in hand. He stretched out on the bed beside Kurt, and flipped open his Sony Vaio.
"Snuggling up with a laptop is not my idea of afterglow, Dennison!" Kurt's brows drew together, they way they did when he was considering getting seriously pissed. "You're supposed to be snuggling up with me."
Nigel ignored his boyfriend, fingers efficient on the keys, as he typed a search into Google. "Look."
Kurt leaned over Nigel's shoulder, and read.
wall mirrors installed boston
Blue eyes laughed into green. "See what I mean?" Kurt brushed a hand through Nigel's hair. "Perfect."