Fic: Coming Home
Title: Coming Home
Author: Wowbright
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairing: Blaine/Kurt (Kurt POV)
Word Count: 770
Summary: anonymous asked for post-5.01 long distance masturbation with feels.
On tumblr
The day after returning to New York, Kurt exits his flirty but not explicitly sexy Skype conversation with Blaine and tries to get back to studying. He stares at his script but he can’t understand the lines, much less memorize or act them. Blaine’s face keeps flashing across his mind - the way he smiled and batted his eyelashes across their computer screens with a confidence Kurt hasn’t seen in ages; at that last McKinley courtyard picnic, eager and elated; and finally on the Dalton staircase, full of that absolute devotion that Kurt still has a hard time trusting with his mind, but knows in his heart is true.
So he picks up his phone and texts Blaine:
Kurt: I know you’re about to go out with Sam, but I just wanted to say I miss you.
Blaine: I miss you too.
Kurt: I miss kissing you.
Blaine: I miss kissing you a lot.
Kurt: I miss being with you. You make me feel safe.
Blaine: You make me feel safe, too.
Kurt: I felt like it shouldn’t be true anymore after what happened, but it was and it is. I don’t know why, but it is. Kurt: Actually, I do know why. It’s because you never stopped loving me, and I never stopped loving you.
Blaine: I will never stop loving you Kurt.
Kurt: I know.
*
Rachel and Santana are still at work when Kurt gets ready for bed. He shuts his curtain carefully anyway before he undresses. He imagines that Blaine is there, watching him as he slowly, sultrily peels off his sweater and shirt and undershirt, unzips his pants and rolls them off his hips, bending forward a little so that Blaine can't help but stare at his ass. He slides off one leg at a time, then pulls off his socks before finally - with a slowness bordering on sadism - stripping off his briefs.
While they were broken up, masturbation was … complicated. Ever since he started dating Blaine, it’s been indelibly connected to him, and even after the break up that connection was still there. Every time Kurt touched himself he felt like there was this string sewn through his heart, tethering it to Blaine's. He tried to ignore it but he couldn’t stop thinking about Blaine’s body, about the way he moved and the way he looked at him and his smell and his taste, and Kurt would come hard remember the noises that Blaine makes. Afterward, he would lie there, still aching for Blaine and wondering if it reconnecting to Blaine by more than that invisible thread was worth the risk.
The ache is gone now.
Kurt lies back on the bed, thinking of Blaine's lips on his nipples, his hands in his hair, his tongue on his cock. He lets his fingers linger on every spot that Blaine touched this past week, feels the reverence of Blaine’s hands, the worship in his eyes. He remembers Blaine's cock: the sharp-sublime taste of it, the satisfying weight on his tongue, how having Blaine in his mouth gave Kurt a sense of wholeness he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Kurt sucks on the fingers of one hand and grips his cock with his left hand and the ring on his finger should not give him the erotic rush of a vibrator against his ass but it does. The feeling of that thin band of metal sliding against the skin of his cock is overwhelming and he moans, “Blaine, Blaine,” over and over, remembering their mouths on each other, the spit-slick slide of their cocks together until they were dizzy with it, until their balls and their bodies gave everything up to each other, and Kurt knew for certain that he was Blaine’s and Blaine’s completely, and Blaine was completely his.
Kurt takes his fingers out of his mouth and runs them under his balls and down his taint and around what Blaine ridiculously and adorably calls his "perfect little asterisk." He remembers Blaine's tongue, lapping him up. He remembers looking down to see Blaine's face buried in him, nothing visible but the triangles of his eyebrows and those long, lush eyelashes blinking lust and adoration with every movement of his tongue.
Kurt comes, sudden and hard and exquisite, until his teeth shake and his brain buzzes, and then he breathes, breathes, feeling Blaine in his body and his heart.
It doesn’t ache. It feels like coming home.
Kurt: I love you.
Blaine: I love you too.
Kurt: Marry me?
Blaine: Yes.
Kurt: Good. I want to spend the rest of my life coming home to you.
Author: Wowbright
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairing: Blaine/Kurt (Kurt POV)
Word Count: 770
Summary: anonymous asked for post-5.01 long distance masturbation with feels.
On tumblr
The day after returning to New York, Kurt exits his flirty but not explicitly sexy Skype conversation with Blaine and tries to get back to studying. He stares at his script but he can’t understand the lines, much less memorize or act them. Blaine’s face keeps flashing across his mind - the way he smiled and batted his eyelashes across their computer screens with a confidence Kurt hasn’t seen in ages; at that last McKinley courtyard picnic, eager and elated; and finally on the Dalton staircase, full of that absolute devotion that Kurt still has a hard time trusting with his mind, but knows in his heart is true.
So he picks up his phone and texts Blaine:
Kurt: I know you’re about to go out with Sam, but I just wanted to say I miss you.
Blaine: I miss you too.
Kurt: I miss kissing you.
Blaine: I miss kissing you a lot.
Kurt: I miss being with you. You make me feel safe.
Blaine: You make me feel safe, too.
Kurt: I felt like it shouldn’t be true anymore after what happened, but it was and it is. I don’t know why, but it is. Kurt: Actually, I do know why. It’s because you never stopped loving me, and I never stopped loving you.
Blaine: I will never stop loving you Kurt.
Kurt: I know.
*
Rachel and Santana are still at work when Kurt gets ready for bed. He shuts his curtain carefully anyway before he undresses. He imagines that Blaine is there, watching him as he slowly, sultrily peels off his sweater and shirt and undershirt, unzips his pants and rolls them off his hips, bending forward a little so that Blaine can't help but stare at his ass. He slides off one leg at a time, then pulls off his socks before finally - with a slowness bordering on sadism - stripping off his briefs.
While they were broken up, masturbation was … complicated. Ever since he started dating Blaine, it’s been indelibly connected to him, and even after the break up that connection was still there. Every time Kurt touched himself he felt like there was this string sewn through his heart, tethering it to Blaine's. He tried to ignore it but he couldn’t stop thinking about Blaine’s body, about the way he moved and the way he looked at him and his smell and his taste, and Kurt would come hard remember the noises that Blaine makes. Afterward, he would lie there, still aching for Blaine and wondering if it reconnecting to Blaine by more than that invisible thread was worth the risk.
The ache is gone now.
Kurt lies back on the bed, thinking of Blaine's lips on his nipples, his hands in his hair, his tongue on his cock. He lets his fingers linger on every spot that Blaine touched this past week, feels the reverence of Blaine’s hands, the worship in his eyes. He remembers Blaine's cock: the sharp-sublime taste of it, the satisfying weight on his tongue, how having Blaine in his mouth gave Kurt a sense of wholeness he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Kurt sucks on the fingers of one hand and grips his cock with his left hand and the ring on his finger should not give him the erotic rush of a vibrator against his ass but it does. The feeling of that thin band of metal sliding against the skin of his cock is overwhelming and he moans, “Blaine, Blaine,” over and over, remembering their mouths on each other, the spit-slick slide of their cocks together until they were dizzy with it, until their balls and their bodies gave everything up to each other, and Kurt knew for certain that he was Blaine’s and Blaine’s completely, and Blaine was completely his.
Kurt takes his fingers out of his mouth and runs them under his balls and down his taint and around what Blaine ridiculously and adorably calls his "perfect little asterisk." He remembers Blaine's tongue, lapping him up. He remembers looking down to see Blaine's face buried in him, nothing visible but the triangles of his eyebrows and those long, lush eyelashes blinking lust and adoration with every movement of his tongue.
Kurt comes, sudden and hard and exquisite, until his teeth shake and his brain buzzes, and then he breathes, breathes, feeling Blaine in his body and his heart.
It doesn’t ache. It feels like coming home.
Kurt: I love you.
Blaine: I love you too.
Kurt: Marry me?
Blaine: Yes.
Kurt: Good. I want to spend the rest of my life coming home to you.