Their mouths were crashed together in a heated and hungry snog, and Blaine once again decided that Kurt's tongue needed a fucking Oscar, a Golden Globe, a Pulitzer and a Nobel Peace Prize just because it was so goddamn freaking talented. Blaine was sprawled on his back while Kurt's hips thrust purposefully in a well-practised rhythm. All that dancing to Beyonce had so paid off over the years... for Blaine. Sometimes it seemed like Kurt was double-jointed with how much sexual prowess he had with those hips. The catwalk swagger was just one of many signature moves he had that also gave him an ass that just wouldn't quit
( ... )
Puck had been watching Queer as Folk at his place, wondering why the fuck he liked this goddamn show so much. It was crazy, and really fucking cool. He found himself wondering if this automatically made him bi, or whatever... especially since the sex scenes were actually really fucking hot.
In a sort of awkward, what the fuck is my life now daze, Puck realized that he really really needed a chat with his BFF to get his head back on straight... or not-straight, whatever the case may be, and drove over unannounced to the casa de Hummel/Anderson, letting himself in with the key he'd had as long as Kurt and Blaine had lived here.
As he walked into the living room, he was greeted with far more of Kurt and Blaine than he'd ever really wanted to see, but what they were doing was... Holy shit, how did Kurt manage that angle? Damn, was his only coherent thought, before sense took over, and he shook his head, starting to back away quickly. "Shit... Fuck, I'm sorry, guys," he said, turning tail and heading toward the kitchen in a hurry.
In his school days, if Kurt had been walked in on or caught having sex, it would have been on the levels of a natural disaster. He would have been mortified and probably sworn off doing it ever again. In fact, that is exactly what happened when Carole walked in on him and Blaine once, and it took Blaine a week to convince him that they weren't doing anything wrong, and that yes, it was embarrassing, but it was no reason to stop doing it. These days, however, Kurt had extensively grown into his sexual side, and his sexuality, and he wasn't ashamed of anything to do with sex. He ooze sex appeal, and used his body for his career. Why the hell would he be shy or embarrassed? It was just sex. Everyone did it
( ... )
Blaine had no choice but to break into a breathless, panting snort of laughter at Kurt's comment. It was the small scrunch of the nose that just proved to rile Blaine up even more. Fuck, he loved every tiny little part of Kurt, and also his very much not tiny parts, too. He cursed softly at Puck's piss-poor timing, but he was with Kurt on this one. There was going to be no stopping until completion. If there was, Blaine was definitely going to die and he was too young for that yet. Death by cock explosion wasn't how he wanted to go, either
( ... )
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In a sort of awkward, what the fuck is my life now daze, Puck realized that he really really needed a chat with his BFF to get his head back on straight... or not-straight, whatever the case may be, and drove over unannounced to the casa de Hummel/Anderson, letting himself in with the key he'd had as long as Kurt and Blaine had lived here.
As he walked into the living room, he was greeted with far more of Kurt and Blaine than he'd ever really wanted to see, but what they were doing was... Holy shit, how did Kurt manage that angle? Damn, was his only coherent thought, before sense took over, and he shook his head, starting to back away quickly. "Shit... Fuck, I'm sorry, guys," he said, turning tail and heading toward the kitchen in a hurry.
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