Until You Can Feel It, Kurt/Blaine, NC-17
Title: Until You Can Feel It
Author: skintightsocks
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine (but mostly Kurt/his hand)
Word Count: 2,000+
Summary: When Kurt turns off the lights and climbs into bed that night all he can smell is Blaine. Blaine's gel and his cologne and his sweat, and seriously, Kurt is getting turned on by sweat. He doesn't understand what has happened to his life.
Spoilers: Up to episode 2x14
Warnings: Sex toys
Author Notes: Title is from the song "Pump it Up" by Elvis Costello. Because we are not subtle. We could have been less subtle though, as the working title of this was "feels so good inside >:)" so we feel okay about it. This one is for our bro inovertime, who has had a rough time of it because of the earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand. Don't worry bb, we're still writing Kurt in a Skirt for you, this one is just a bonus! If you have the means and haven't done so yet, please consider donating! You can also bid or offer for help_nz!
Blaine left what looks suspiciously like a drool stain on Kurt's pillow, and goodness knows how much gel residue, even though Blaine had admittedly cut back a little at Kurt's gentle nudges. Or insistent demands. Really, who's splitting hairs?
Kurt had planned on doing laundry and swapping out his sheets before bed but his dad had been on his Big Brunch Bonding kick and after that conversation, he was a little nervous to wash his sheets immediately after having a boy sleep over. Just in case his dad knew more about gay sex than he was letting on. It's not a problem, or anything. It's a big bed, and he likes the left side anyway, but when Kurt turns off the lights and climbs into bed that night all he can smell is Blaine. Blaine's gel and his cologne and his sweat, and seriously, Kurt is getting turned on by sweat. He doesn't understand what has happened to his life.
The thing is, Kurt had been the very picture of self-restraint last night. He had behaved at the party, even after everything went to hell in Rachel Berry's hideous caftan. He had behaved at the end of the night when Blaine had wrapped his arms around Kurt and told Kurt's neck that he "smelled, like, so good, what even is that, is it the smell of happiness?" He had behaved on the way up the stairs and behaved when he dumped Blaine in his bed and took Blaine's shoes off. It helped that Blaine was passed out drunk and mumbling something about cream cheese in his sleep, but Kurt had done his moisturizing, put on his pajamas, and gotten in bed. And then he proceeded to lay there for at least two hours, freaking out about the fact that Blaine was right there, six inches away from him, in his bed.
He'd fallen asleep eventually, and woken up with Blaine cuddled up to his arm, one hand fisted in Kurt's pajama top and totally wrinkling the satin. Kurt hadn't even been mad at him for it, he'd just lain there for a minute (or thirty), memorizing the way it felt to have Blaine pressed close to him, his toes nudging at Kurt's ankle and his breath tickling against Kurt's neck. All in all, Kurt had been exceptionally well behaved, he thinks. Which is why now, with Blaine gone but his smell still all over Kurt's bed, he's even more tempted than usual to put himself to sleep with an orgasm instead of his sleepytime playlist. He's earned this.
It might be a little creepy, technically, but Kurt's okay with that. He was decidedly not creepy all night, okay, and he is a sixteen-year-old boy. He's only so strong. Kurt doesn't really feel all that guilty anyway when he strips out of his pajamas and gets under the covers, wrapping his hand around his cock, already half hard in anticipation. He tries to forget about the real reason he's doing this at first, tries to focus on things decidedly not Blaine-related.
He starts with an old standby - a guy, someone, anyone, pressing him against a wall. The guy is tall, muscled but not too muscled, big enough to loom over Kurt and keep him pinned against the wall and tilt Kurt's head up with big, clumsy fingers, and oh dammit. Kurt had forgotten that this fantasy more often than not turns into Finn, and Kurt has had a much harder time finding Finn even remotely sexy since the whole "being step brothers" thing. Not to mention that living with Finn had been even more effective at killing any residual feelings than quasi-incest had. He's seen how long Finn can and will go without showering. Any magic that might be left is officially gone.
Kurt sighs and cycles through a few other fantasies, stroking at his cock idly. A hot fireman saving his life. Sneaking into a club and picking up an older guy who can teach Kurt a thing or two. Making out in the stacks with the cute, soft-eyed librarian who worked there in the summer. But nothing works, and Kurt can't stop smelling Blaine everywhere, and as soon as he gives in and tilts to the side, pressing his face against the pillow Blaine had slept on, his hips thrust forward into his hand and he whines, his breath hitching.
All of a sudden he can't seem to shut his mind off, a thousand images rushing into his head at once. Blaine's mouth, his hands, his eyes; Blaine kissing him, jerking him off, mouthing at his cock. Blaine - fuck - Blaine fucking him. Kurt wonders what it would be like, if Blaine would go fast or slow, if he'd thrust in deep and grind or push in and out in long strokes. He wonders how big Blaine's cock is, if it's thick, how it would feel stretching him open. Kurt had intended to only jerk off, but now his hand on his cock just isn't enough. He needs something inside, needs Blaine inside.
Kurt groans and flings his hand out blindly to the side, tugging his drawer open and rummaging around with his free hand. He finds his lube first, and then his fingers wrap around his dildo. Finding out that Amazon.com had sex toys and for some reason had him listed as 19 in their database was the best day of his life, he's pretty sure.
Kurt quickly slicks two of his fingers up, using way too much lube in his haste and dripping it everywhere, but he doesn't care because he needs them inside, wants them inside now. It's a stretch, but Kurt doesn't have time to take it slow right now. He spreads his fingers wide and thrusts his hips up, biting his lip and turning his head again to burrow his nose against the pillow and breathe in deep. God, Blaine smells good. Warm and kind of woodsy and like such a guy that Kurt whines and presses a third finger in without any extra lube, desperate to get himself ready.
Kurt tries to take it slow - he doesn't want to overdo it and pay for it tomorrow - but after a few minutes he just can't wait anymore. Besides, Kurt thinks, hurriedly spreading lube over the dildo, it will feel better this way. Feel real, feel big, feel like Blaine pressing into him, and Kurt groans at that, sliding his fingers out and pressing the head of the dildo to where he's wet and open, rubbing. Kurt closes his eyes and presses his face even deeper into the pillow, thinking about Blaine between his legs, his hair wild and his eyes dark as he presses himself against Kurt's ass.
Blaine would press in slow, Kurt thinks, giving Kurt time to adjust once the head was inside. Once he's there, though, Blaine would groan and tell Kurt how good it felt, how wet and tight and hot Kurt was, and he wouldn't be able to help himself. His hips would jerk forward and he'd press inside in one long, steady thrust, just like-- fuck. Kurt groans when the dildo is all the way in, his hips rocking up against the pressure.
Kurt thinks about Blaine on top of him, rocking his hips forward, leaning down to kiss Kurt and to whisper in his ear. He would let Kurt cling and press close and stick his nose against Blaine's sweaty neck as Blaine pulled out slowly and then thrust forward quick and hard, jarring Kurt's body and making him moan. He would breathe against Blaine's neck, panting, and Blaine smells so good, his bed smells so good because of Blaine, and fuck, Kurt wants him here. He wants Blaine here in his bed, inside of him, all around him, wants everything.
Kurt thrusts the dildo in fast and hard, just feeling it, the full pressure inside, wishing the cool plastic was Blaine's warm cock instead. Kurt's so wrapped up in his fantasy that he's pretty much completely forgotten about his cock. Kurt lifts his head from the pillow and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths, letting go of the dildo with one hand and wrapping it around his cock, stroking himself quick and hard, and fuck, Kurt wants Blaine to do this too. He wants Blaine to do everything, he wants to do everything to Blaine, and then all of a sudden Kurt's mind is careening down an even better path.
He wonders if Blaine does this. If he has a dildo, or even if he uses his fingers. He wonders if Blaine would want to fuck him or be fucked or both, what Blaine's hand would look like wrapped around his cock, how he would stroke it. Kurt's getting close, he can feel it, his stomach coiling up tight and hot. He can't seem to focus on one thing, his mind flitting back and forth between Blaine's hands and his mouth and all the things he could do with them, fuck.
Kurt's jerking roughly at his cock, his hips working helplessly against the dildo. His hand is starting to ache and cramp up but it's angling the dildo just right, pressing in against his prostate over and over again in a way that makes the heat spark at the base of Kurt's spine. He turns his face back into the pillow to muffle his cry when the heat turns liquid and he's arching his hips up and finally coming over his fist, flashes of Blaine coming inside of him running through his head. He wonders what it would feel like, hot and wet and deep, and Kurt has never come so hard in his life.
Kurt's shaking a little after he comes, his legs feeling loose and useless and his mind reeling. He's still clenching around the dildo - he can't seem to stop - and it's so much, he's so full, that Kurt can't stop himself when he closes his eyes and imagines it's Blaine easing his cock out of Kurt, slowly, carefully. Blaine leans down and kisses him when the head pops out and Kurt whines, feeling open and empty. Maybe Blaine would reach down and trail his fingers over Kurt where he's swollen up and open now, touch him, maybe slip his fingers inside, and fuck, fuck, no. Kurt's got to stop this. He can't-- he just had one hell of an orgasm and now his side of the bed is a mess. Kurt should really get up. Get up and take a shower and clean the dildo and strip his sheets and put the extra set on.
That is what he should do. What he does do is wipe his stomach and hands off with a tissue before wrapping a few more around the dildo and dropping it in his drawer. He's still not sure his legs will work if he tries to get out of bed, that's all. And it's not like he can sleep on his side of the bed, not with lube and come all over the place. So really, he has no choice but to roll over and settle down on the right side of the bed.
He supposes he could use his own pillow. But. His arms are feeling a little shaky too. It's probably best to just use the one Blaine had slept on. Just for tonight. He is totally going to do laundry tomorrow. Just because he keeps falling in love with slobs doesn't mean he would ever become one himself.
Kurt reaches for his phone, making sure he doesn't forget to set an alarm, and it vibrates almost as soon as his hand is on it. He grins at the screen when Blaine's name pops up, and his grin gets even wider when he reads the message.
I'm not trying to be risque, but I have to say, I REALLY miss your bed right now. Those pillows are amazing.
Oh, I know, Kurt texts back, biting his lip because he's grinning so big. I'm a pretty big fan myself.
Author: skintightsocks
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine (but mostly Kurt/his hand)
Word Count: 2,000+
Summary: When Kurt turns off the lights and climbs into bed that night all he can smell is Blaine. Blaine's gel and his cologne and his sweat, and seriously, Kurt is getting turned on by sweat. He doesn't understand what has happened to his life.
Spoilers: Up to episode 2x14
Warnings: Sex toys
Author Notes: Title is from the song "Pump it Up" by Elvis Costello. Because we are not subtle. We could have been less subtle though, as the working title of this was "feels so good inside >:)" so we feel okay about it. This one is for our bro inovertime, who has had a rough time of it because of the earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand. Don't worry bb, we're still writing Kurt in a Skirt for you, this one is just a bonus! If you have the means and haven't done so yet, please consider donating! You can also bid or offer for help_nz!
Blaine left what looks suspiciously like a drool stain on Kurt's pillow, and goodness knows how much gel residue, even though Blaine had admittedly cut back a little at Kurt's gentle nudges. Or insistent demands. Really, who's splitting hairs?
Kurt had planned on doing laundry and swapping out his sheets before bed but his dad had been on his Big Brunch Bonding kick and after that conversation, he was a little nervous to wash his sheets immediately after having a boy sleep over. Just in case his dad knew more about gay sex than he was letting on. It's not a problem, or anything. It's a big bed, and he likes the left side anyway, but when Kurt turns off the lights and climbs into bed that night all he can smell is Blaine. Blaine's gel and his cologne and his sweat, and seriously, Kurt is getting turned on by sweat. He doesn't understand what has happened to his life.
The thing is, Kurt had been the very picture of self-restraint last night. He had behaved at the party, even after everything went to hell in Rachel Berry's hideous caftan. He had behaved at the end of the night when Blaine had wrapped his arms around Kurt and told Kurt's neck that he "smelled, like, so good, what even is that, is it the smell of happiness?" He had behaved on the way up the stairs and behaved when he dumped Blaine in his bed and took Blaine's shoes off. It helped that Blaine was passed out drunk and mumbling something about cream cheese in his sleep, but Kurt had done his moisturizing, put on his pajamas, and gotten in bed. And then he proceeded to lay there for at least two hours, freaking out about the fact that Blaine was right there, six inches away from him, in his bed.
He'd fallen asleep eventually, and woken up with Blaine cuddled up to his arm, one hand fisted in Kurt's pajama top and totally wrinkling the satin. Kurt hadn't even been mad at him for it, he'd just lain there for a minute (or thirty), memorizing the way it felt to have Blaine pressed close to him, his toes nudging at Kurt's ankle and his breath tickling against Kurt's neck. All in all, Kurt had been exceptionally well behaved, he thinks. Which is why now, with Blaine gone but his smell still all over Kurt's bed, he's even more tempted than usual to put himself to sleep with an orgasm instead of his sleepytime playlist. He's earned this.
It might be a little creepy, technically, but Kurt's okay with that. He was decidedly not creepy all night, okay, and he is a sixteen-year-old boy. He's only so strong. Kurt doesn't really feel all that guilty anyway when he strips out of his pajamas and gets under the covers, wrapping his hand around his cock, already half hard in anticipation. He tries to forget about the real reason he's doing this at first, tries to focus on things decidedly not Blaine-related.
He starts with an old standby - a guy, someone, anyone, pressing him against a wall. The guy is tall, muscled but not too muscled, big enough to loom over Kurt and keep him pinned against the wall and tilt Kurt's head up with big, clumsy fingers, and oh dammit. Kurt had forgotten that this fantasy more often than not turns into Finn, and Kurt has had a much harder time finding Finn even remotely sexy since the whole "being step brothers" thing. Not to mention that living with Finn had been even more effective at killing any residual feelings than quasi-incest had. He's seen how long Finn can and will go without showering. Any magic that might be left is officially gone.
Kurt sighs and cycles through a few other fantasies, stroking at his cock idly. A hot fireman saving his life. Sneaking into a club and picking up an older guy who can teach Kurt a thing or two. Making out in the stacks with the cute, soft-eyed librarian who worked there in the summer. But nothing works, and Kurt can't stop smelling Blaine everywhere, and as soon as he gives in and tilts to the side, pressing his face against the pillow Blaine had slept on, his hips thrust forward into his hand and he whines, his breath hitching.
All of a sudden he can't seem to shut his mind off, a thousand images rushing into his head at once. Blaine's mouth, his hands, his eyes; Blaine kissing him, jerking him off, mouthing at his cock. Blaine - fuck - Blaine fucking him. Kurt wonders what it would be like, if Blaine would go fast or slow, if he'd thrust in deep and grind or push in and out in long strokes. He wonders how big Blaine's cock is, if it's thick, how it would feel stretching him open. Kurt had intended to only jerk off, but now his hand on his cock just isn't enough. He needs something inside, needs Blaine inside.
Kurt groans and flings his hand out blindly to the side, tugging his drawer open and rummaging around with his free hand. He finds his lube first, and then his fingers wrap around his dildo. Finding out that Amazon.com had sex toys and for some reason had him listed as 19 in their database was the best day of his life, he's pretty sure.
Kurt quickly slicks two of his fingers up, using way too much lube in his haste and dripping it everywhere, but he doesn't care because he needs them inside, wants them inside now. It's a stretch, but Kurt doesn't have time to take it slow right now. He spreads his fingers wide and thrusts his hips up, biting his lip and turning his head again to burrow his nose against the pillow and breathe in deep. God, Blaine smells good. Warm and kind of woodsy and like such a guy that Kurt whines and presses a third finger in without any extra lube, desperate to get himself ready.
Kurt tries to take it slow - he doesn't want to overdo it and pay for it tomorrow - but after a few minutes he just can't wait anymore. Besides, Kurt thinks, hurriedly spreading lube over the dildo, it will feel better this way. Feel real, feel big, feel like Blaine pressing into him, and Kurt groans at that, sliding his fingers out and pressing the head of the dildo to where he's wet and open, rubbing. Kurt closes his eyes and presses his face even deeper into the pillow, thinking about Blaine between his legs, his hair wild and his eyes dark as he presses himself against Kurt's ass.
Blaine would press in slow, Kurt thinks, giving Kurt time to adjust once the head was inside. Once he's there, though, Blaine would groan and tell Kurt how good it felt, how wet and tight and hot Kurt was, and he wouldn't be able to help himself. His hips would jerk forward and he'd press inside in one long, steady thrust, just like-- fuck. Kurt groans when the dildo is all the way in, his hips rocking up against the pressure.
Kurt thinks about Blaine on top of him, rocking his hips forward, leaning down to kiss Kurt and to whisper in his ear. He would let Kurt cling and press close and stick his nose against Blaine's sweaty neck as Blaine pulled out slowly and then thrust forward quick and hard, jarring Kurt's body and making him moan. He would breathe against Blaine's neck, panting, and Blaine smells so good, his bed smells so good because of Blaine, and fuck, Kurt wants him here. He wants Blaine here in his bed, inside of him, all around him, wants everything.
Kurt thrusts the dildo in fast and hard, just feeling it, the full pressure inside, wishing the cool plastic was Blaine's warm cock instead. Kurt's so wrapped up in his fantasy that he's pretty much completely forgotten about his cock. Kurt lifts his head from the pillow and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths, letting go of the dildo with one hand and wrapping it around his cock, stroking himself quick and hard, and fuck, Kurt wants Blaine to do this too. He wants Blaine to do everything, he wants to do everything to Blaine, and then all of a sudden Kurt's mind is careening down an even better path.
He wonders if Blaine does this. If he has a dildo, or even if he uses his fingers. He wonders if Blaine would want to fuck him or be fucked or both, what Blaine's hand would look like wrapped around his cock, how he would stroke it. Kurt's getting close, he can feel it, his stomach coiling up tight and hot. He can't seem to focus on one thing, his mind flitting back and forth between Blaine's hands and his mouth and all the things he could do with them, fuck.
Kurt's jerking roughly at his cock, his hips working helplessly against the dildo. His hand is starting to ache and cramp up but it's angling the dildo just right, pressing in against his prostate over and over again in a way that makes the heat spark at the base of Kurt's spine. He turns his face back into the pillow to muffle his cry when the heat turns liquid and he's arching his hips up and finally coming over his fist, flashes of Blaine coming inside of him running through his head. He wonders what it would feel like, hot and wet and deep, and Kurt has never come so hard in his life.
Kurt's shaking a little after he comes, his legs feeling loose and useless and his mind reeling. He's still clenching around the dildo - he can't seem to stop - and it's so much, he's so full, that Kurt can't stop himself when he closes his eyes and imagines it's Blaine easing his cock out of Kurt, slowly, carefully. Blaine leans down and kisses him when the head pops out and Kurt whines, feeling open and empty. Maybe Blaine would reach down and trail his fingers over Kurt where he's swollen up and open now, touch him, maybe slip his fingers inside, and fuck, fuck, no. Kurt's got to stop this. He can't-- he just had one hell of an orgasm and now his side of the bed is a mess. Kurt should really get up. Get up and take a shower and clean the dildo and strip his sheets and put the extra set on.
That is what he should do. What he does do is wipe his stomach and hands off with a tissue before wrapping a few more around the dildo and dropping it in his drawer. He's still not sure his legs will work if he tries to get out of bed, that's all. And it's not like he can sleep on his side of the bed, not with lube and come all over the place. So really, he has no choice but to roll over and settle down on the right side of the bed.
He supposes he could use his own pillow. But. His arms are feeling a little shaky too. It's probably best to just use the one Blaine had slept on. Just for tonight. He is totally going to do laundry tomorrow. Just because he keeps falling in love with slobs doesn't mean he would ever become one himself.
Kurt reaches for his phone, making sure he doesn't forget to set an alarm, and it vibrates almost as soon as his hand is on it. He grins at the screen when Blaine's name pops up, and his grin gets even wider when he reads the message.
I'm not trying to be risque, but I have to say, I REALLY miss your bed right now. Those pillows are amazing.
Oh, I know, Kurt texts back, biting his lip because he's grinning so big. I'm a pretty big fan myself.