Fic: Cocksure (Glee, Kurt/Blaine, NC-17)
Author: Regala Electra
Spoilers: S2, Original Songs
Warnings: Sexual Content, Language
Word Count: 3,772
Summary: Actually, the secret to the universe is this simple equation: bite down on Kurt’s neck + remove belt + unzip pants = Blaine's hand on Kurt's dick. There are a few more steps along the way, but this is pretty much the story of Blaine going down on Kurt.
Author’s Notes: I am as always grateful that fourfreedoms is a fantastic beta and still likes me after having to edit my fic. On December 13th, I emailed my dear ignited the original draft of this story with the header "this is a story about Blaine sucking cock. Enjoy." Now I shall write porn about these boys forever.
Turns out Blaine's a bit of a cockslut.
He should probably start at the beginning to explain how he arrived at this stunning discovery. But he’s not about to slow down and do something ridiculous like be rational when all he wants is more.
Blaine does kind of wants to shout it from the rooftops despite how incredibly, incredibly inappropriate that would be. At the very least, he should probably inform Kurt that he’d love it if he could suck Kurt’s dick.
Shouldn’t it be obvious though? Of course he’s always wanted the opportunity to touch (plus more) and even better, it’s Kurt, who he trusts more than anyone else. Just a few fleeting incidental touches while making out with Kurt have sent him reeling with the possibilities, leaving him with a weird gasping kind of stutter as Kurt pulls back, brushing the side of Blaine’s face.
“Is there a problem?”
“No,” he says, failing at discreetly adjusting himself, “No problem at all.”
So yes, he really likes dick. More than he’d ever realized.
It isn’t like he's had the opportunity to know this about himself beforehand and have fair warning that he’d become nearly obsessed with going further. Without having the chance to do anything below the belt, as it were, all he knew was boys were awesome but not that he needed to touch his boyfriend everywhere.
He’s starting to hate Kurt’s belt and its ability to keep him away from the promised land.
That’s all about to change right now, Blaine’s sure. They have time and a distinct lack of parents in his house, though he still locked his bedroom door, just in case. The mood is absolutely right.
And when he asks, “Can I?” Kurt tells him yes and kisses him hard, like a promise.
First things first: a brief trajectory across the smooth bliss of Kurt’s chest, angling his mouth down as he slowly unbuttons Kurt’s shirt.
"Mmph," Blaine says, trying to be as casual as possible thanks to the unfortunate discovery of licking a stripe of freshly cologned skin. He smacks his lips in a desperate attempt to blot out the flavor. "Trying out a new scent?"
"Do you like it?"
"It...smells good? Sorry, it's a little strong—” is all he can manage as he feebly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. It tastes like he just licked the skin of a French perfumer after he spent a week perfecting his latest concoction. Honestly, he’d rather just lick Kurt, without the strange frippery masking the slight tang of sweat, salty and sharp.
Kurt gets it, eyes widening. "I could, um, wash it off. If you'll give me a moment."
"No," Blaine protests. Because that means that Kurt would move away from him and that is not acceptable at all when Kurt is nearly sitting in his lap right now.
Blaine would like Kurt to consider permanent residence in his lap. He’d be delighted to prepare a handwritten permit application, and approve it this instant with a guarantee of forever as long as Kurt promises to keep moving like that, these crazy hesitating shifting angles that are so incredibly wonderful.
He's also sure if Kurt vacates the best sitting spot ever that whatever might happen will be all over. They'll sit side by side on the bed and make out until they need to cool down, no further progression, and Blaine will be stuck fantasizing what if. No, he is not letting them create a self-imposed cockblock because they’re taking it slow or whatever terrible reason that they’ll invent because they’re afraid that every new experience together mean something monumental and important.
It is important but that’s nothing to be afraid of and for Kurt, he can definitely be brave.
(God, he wants him so much.)
Blaine has decided to go a more thrilling route and is spending his hard-earned courage getting Kurt's shirt unbuttoned as he explores rarely visited skin, risky yes, but well worth the possibility of getting shot down, of being told he’s moving too fast.
Kurt doesn’t say that. What he says isn’t anything, just a sharp exhale when Blaine runs his fingers along the sharp perfection of his collarbone.
Well, they've taken their ties off at least. Progress. Blaine even had the foresight to drop them on the nightstand so they’re neatly out of the way, and hey, he bets he can totally get Kurt to take off his shirt with a similar plan of action—keeping tidy. He wonders if this makes him neurotic that he’s actually thinking about that or if he’s just so desperate that he’s making sure nothing as silly as the threat of wrinkled shirts might ruin his fantastic plan. Right now this theoretical plan is a little hazy and mostly all about Kurt and touching and oh yeah, touching more.
Some non-verbal convincing of the let me show you how much my tongue really likes your skin, no really variety is all it takes to persuade Kurt to stay right where he’s seated, actually better as Kurt moves forward in a good way. His ass is pressed hard into Blaine’s lap at this point and Blaine is so okay with that.
Blaine has to restrain himself from thrusting up as Kurt moans indecently when Blaine discovers a pathway along Kurt's throat that might hold the secret to the universe. Or the secret to leaving Kurt panting and needy.
Blaine decides that probably is the secret to the universe, anyway.
Actually, the secret to the universe is this simple equation: bite down on Kurt’s neck + remove belt + unzip pants = Blaine's hand on Kurt's dick.
There might have been another step or two involving slipping beneath underwear, a whisper of trust me but the details escape Blaine when Kurt rocks into his grasp.
"Oh god," Kurt actually whimpers, his hand involuntarily clutching Blaine’s wrist and tightening Blaine’s hold. "Blaine."
Okay, Blaine would not mind it if his name was said like that all the time. If he had a moment, he would try to record that because just hearing it makes him get even harder and that will definitely become a new feature in rotation whenever he jerks off because he’s pretty sure his heart just stopped. He can't process it further than that.
He’s sliding his mouth down Kurt’s neck to the sharp point of his shoulder, knowing that he’s stalling. It’s ridiculous, not continuing on out of fear that he’s experiencing some hallucination, the warm weight of Kurt too perfect, the way Kurt’s fingers are so strong around his hand. He wants everything now.
Please Kurt, let me taste you—and he knows he says that part out loud. Blaine pulls back a little to look at him.
Kurt’s expression is shocked and he doesn’t say a word. His eyes flicker down to Blaine’s mouth and Blaine chooses.
It is probably incredibly cheesy for Blaine to decide this but the time for thinking, processing, has died a swift and merciful death and he is now Blaine: Man of Action.
Which is how he winds up on his knees in front of Kurt. Some movement, awkward and stumbling, he's sure, must have been required but either time sped up or Blaine's mind actually exploded and he's only collecting the pieces right now. His main line of thought is this:
Fuck, Kurt has a pretty cock.
Fuck, he has got to suck this cock for all that he's worth.
Oh fuck. He has no idea how to suck cock.
(He swears a lot when confronted with his first opportunity to give a blowjob. Good to know.)
It’s not like he doesn’t have any clue. There are theoretical principles he is keenly aware of, thanks to the internet but no practical application. So he lets his brain join with him on this new prospect and he reiterates a checklist of what he does know. Mouth on dick, keep his lips over teeth (biting is reserved for other activities), and a lot of sucking, yeah, it should be obvious but now the reality of it all careens in front of him and it’s a little daunting.
The thought of being awful is horrifying and who knew how sharply performance anxiety could hurt because for Blaine, singing in front of an audience of strangers is nothing compared to kneeling before his boyfriend, who’s panting (begging and file that under: Things That Totally Are Hot, Fuck) for him to just do it and thinking: I am going to fail.
He’s having stage fright on his knees. That’s new.
“Blaine? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, and the edge of panic in his voice refuses to die down. Maybe he sounds a little hysterical. Hysterical and horny. Not his best moment, by far.
“We don’t have to—”
“I want to. I want you.” He might be freaking out a little in his head but he musters up a good show face, boldly surging forward with putting his hands oh so close to Kurt’s erection. The warmth beneath Blaine’s hands makes his breath hitch a little, a nervous noise nothing like a laugh escaping his throat.
He doesn’t realize he’s been waiting for it until Kurt says it.
“I want you too.”
Screw it (oh, well, actually, that’s kind of what he’s about to do), it’s game time. He wraps his right hand around that gorgeous cock, pulling Kurt’s jeans down a little more with his left.
It is eternally unfair that Kurt can look cute and bashful while Blaine is busy stroking his dick. Seriously.
But the time for talking is definitely over because to get this far and go back is absurd so Blaine stops looking at Kurt’s face (though that’s more of a sacrifice than he wants to admit), and half-closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath and—huh.
If anyone ever questioned Blaine on his sexuality the answer could be quite firmly settled with a resounding capital G gay because cock is amazing. Yes, he is definitely, definitely thrilled to be gay because this is absolutely, without a doubt, better than anything, and this is just the first taste.
The weight is strange and new on his tongue and he doesn’t mean to surge forward until he’s already there, his lips curling over his teeth and he sucks, just around the head, proving that he can.
The feels of him in Blaine’s mouth is insanely good and when he moans a little around Kurt’s dick, he can hear Kurt nearly sobbing with relief and Blaine can’t help but sink further down, trying to draw out that wonderful noise from Kurt again.
Kurt’s thighs tense and he can feel the tremble of muscles, the effort it takes for Kurt not to move. His breathing settles for a moment, quiets, as he watches Blaine, even though Blaine doesn’t dare spare more than a glance, too worried at making this so, so good for Kurt.
Well, silence, that simply won’t do.
So he makes Kurt cry out again and again as he gets a little more aggressive with his tongue, flattening and pressing on the underside of Kurt’s dick.
Also, his hands should be put to use. It’s a good way of getting Kurt to make choked out little noises as he tightens his grip on Kurt’s legs to keep him spread just right while hollowing out his cheeks with honest effort as he tries to take Kurt deeper. There’s a muffled noise and Kurt actually clutches the back of Blaine’s head, impossible to decipher if he’s try to pull Blaine off or push him down further.
Words would be nice but the sounds Kurt makes are exactly the good kind of indecent. Fine, words are dumb anyway, and Blaine is content to keep on going despite his jaw feeling a little strange, an almost numbing kind of ache.
Kurt’s still doing that weird tugging thing to Blaine’s hair.
It probably means Kurt’s holding back and smothering his reactions and that absolutely does it for Blaine as he ruts up against whatever hard surface (probably Kurt’s leg and no he’s not going to think about how desperate that makes him) is closest to his dick.
Blaine has watched porn before. Okay, Blaine watches porn regularly. He is a teenage guy and he’s got a healthy interest in cock (seriously: best thing ever if his taste test so far is any proof and it so very is) and while the surefire way to come has always been watching someone beg for their mouth to be fucked, he had no idea, no freaking clue, what it would feel like in the moment.
“Kurt,” he says when he pulls back, and if his voice is a little raspy, well, whatever, he’s living the goddamn dream, “I want you to f—”
“What?” Kurt says, snaps actually, and well, that look on his face is one that is very familiar and new all at once. It’s like he’s been told he’s not getting Lady Gaga’s newest album and that there was a private sale at Nordstrom that he wasn’t invited to. “Why did you stop?”
“Um,” Blaine says, because delivering a porn line seems kind of foolish now that his stupid brain has stupidly caught up with the rest of him, “Is this okay?”
Kurt doesn’t answer with words. Instead he bends down and bites down on Blaine’s bottom lip.
“Nggh,” Blaine says, because he is brilliant, poised, and not at all cross-eyed whenever Kurt does that. Fortunately Kurt hasn’t quite caught on or Blaine would spend the majority of his time around Kurt being even more stupid than usual.
“Less…tongue?” Kurt can’t quite meet his eyes.
“I can do that.” Blaine wants to add I’ll do whatever you want me to but it’s difficult to deliver suave cool when he’s pumping Kurt’s cock with his right hand and thinking how exactly too much tongue can ever be a bad thing. “Tell me when it’s...too much?”
Well he sounded a little over-confident there, despite the question. Good thing Kurt is too busy getting his dick stroked to really tease him.
“Wait,” Kurt says, putting his hand over Blaine’s and hey they should really try doing that another time, like when Blaine’s not trying to deliver the world’s best first blowjob, because maybe just jerking each other off could be kind of amazing. But that’s for later, he promises himself, and oh right, he’s got to wait because Kurt’s in charge.
Kurt’s fingers are strong around Blaine’s wrist, a wrist he’s always thought too bony and unimpressive, but with Kurt touching him he can’t help but feel strong and loved. It’s a strange romantic thought to have when being stopped by boyfriend mid-blowjob.
He might blurt out how much he loves Kurt if Kurt didn’t take this opportunity to bend down and kiss him, hard, teeth clacking as Kurt tries with sloppy desperation to deepen the kiss.
“Let me get out of these,” Kurt says against his mouth.
“Okay,” Blaine says, not a single clue what he means until Kurt’s off the bed, standing up in front of him actually, yanking down his too-tight jeans down his legs, exposing so much skin. “God, Kurt.”
“What?” Kurt asks, and there’s a nervous edge, his usually perfect posture faltering as he realizes he’s left himself open for inspection and no, Blaine cannot let him for one moment think that there’s any sort of deficiency.
“You are so gorgeous,” Blaine tells him, his hands free to travel the distance, going from tight calves, careful not to fully touch the back of his knees in case he’s ticklish, moving up the back of Kurt’s thighs and there, heading back to the tops of his thighs. He’s got work to do. “Please. Let me show you.”
Kurt almost falls forward onto the bed, holding Blaine’s shoulders for purchase, looking a little sheepish as he explains, “I don’t think I can stand up. You know. For that.”
Blaine nods because he understands completely and then a quick thrilling idea sparks and he doesn’t stop himself from saying, “Yeah. We can try that another time.”
More, he’s promising, there’s so much more we’ll have together.
When Kurt bends down to kiss him, hard and unrelenting, his tongue slipping into Blaine’s mouth before he’s even ready for it, Blaine can so keep doing this and abandon the most amazing thing ever because he will never get tired of how it feels to kiss Kurt.
But. Naked Kurt. There are priorities here. “I want to make you feel good,” he mumbles, a little desperately, when Kurt pulls back a little, a gasp when Blaine’s hand slides down the curve of his ass.
“You do,” Kurt says, so soft that Blaine almost misses it, and he’s not given a chance to answer as Kurt bites down on his bottom lip. Kurt settles back on the bed, his hands absentmindedly brushing down the sides of Blaine's shoulders to his arms.
"Kurt," is all he can say, hoping that's enough.
He works his way back, not letting his need for perfection dictate the course—it’s Kurt who informs him—in the changes to his breathing, his body rising against Blaine’s mouth and hands. When his fingers slip down the crease of his inner thighs, Kurt nearly thrusts forward like he’s trying to buck Blaine off, and oh, that’s a sensitive spot then.
When Blaine gets truly daring, his mouth sinks down and he places an earnest kiss on his balls. Kurt grabs the back of Blaine’s neck and yanks him up, nearly sending him off balance.
He’s trembling a little, nearly shivering as Blaine keeps on touching him. Blaine almost expects Kurt to tell him to stop or something worse—the way Kurt’s staring at him, eyes unfocused but so intense, and god to think that this is it or that they might have to cool down, it’s almost too much to bear. The suspense fortunately doesn’t kill him. Kurt grabs Blaine’s left hand—which has been idly tracing nothings on Kurt’s thigh—and places it over his heart.
“If you keep teasing me,” Kurt says solemnly, “You will kill your boyfriend.”
Blaine resists making a la petite mort joke. It’s a difficult thing to do, letting that slide. He kisses Kurt’s chest above his splayed fingers. The slide back down is slower than ever, he stops to vaguely nip at an irresistible patch of skin on his belly, vaguely brushed over with the faintest of golden down.
This time, when his tongue slowly drags along the large vein on the underside of Kurt’s cock, he isn’t trying out some half-baked technique he’s learned from porn. There is no rulebook to adhere to—the name of the game is make Kurt feel good and the rest will follow.
And follow he does, knowing to be gentler when he steadies Kurt in his hands, using his left to push Kurt’s legs a little further apart, returning to those sure touches that leave Kurt begging wordlessly for more. His right hand wraps surely around Kurt’s dick and he realizes, very belatedly, that he’s rushed past one of their mutual firsts: our first handjob together.
But maybe Kurt will be steadier in his resolve. He won’t be as desperate and that’s a thing to wonder as he glances upwards quickly, catching the raw expression on Kurt’s face, naked with need, and Blaine succumbs.
If he’s awful, Kurt will forgive him, but Blaine is listening now and making himself learn all over again.
It’s when Blaine’s taken to short, irregular strokes, pulling back and running his tongue over the head at random moments (to keep Kurt from thinking there’s a method to his unharmonious efforts) that he can feel Kurt tense beneath him. He’s trying to hold on, to delay the moment, a losing battle.
“Blaine,” Kurt warns—and that’s not all he does. His thumb almost slides into Blaine’s mouth, probably to pull him off, but it feels so damn good that Blaine’s throat tightens, an imperceptible shift and oh, that’s when it happens. A hot, flooding rush fills his mouth and Blaine honestly tries to swallow but it’s too much, too new, and he pulls back, coughing.
That he has some basic presence of mind to keep pumping Kurt through his orgasm is a miracle.
Kurt’s fingers trip-trap towards Blaine’s mouth and now he looks upwards at Kurt, savoring the sight, the perfect imperfect blush spreading across his body, how it gets so bright across his cheeks. He looks wrecked and ravaged and gorgeous. Then he realizes he missed Kurt’s come face and that is utterly tragic.
Wait, that just means he missed his first opportunity. There will definitely be a next time and a time after that, if Blaine has anything to say about it and he’s guessing that Kurt’s beautiful smile means Blaine did good, if not perfect.
Blaine smiles too, but the moment of grace lasts barely a few seconds before he’s pulled back onto the bed, sprawled on his back with Kurt hovering over him. He presses his cheek against Blaine, biting down on his earlobe before pulling back, thumb sliding along Blaine’s bottom lip, a slightly sticky drag.
“I could—for you,” he finally says, voice a little hoarse. Did Blaine go deaf at some point? Did he miss Kurt shouting? That is ridiculously unfair.
“I’m not gonna last,” Blaine admits, because he’s still hard and aching.
“Okay,” Kurt says, like they’ve reached some kind of agreement and then his hand is out of sight, ghosting down Blaine’s side. Forgive him for shivering, but he’s a little wrecked too and a lot dying from anticipation.
Blaine tries his best not to come at the moment Kurt wraps his hand around him, but it’s a pathetic effort and he almost sobs with relief when he finally does come, shooting over Kurt’s fingers and across his stomach. He might have actually thanked Kurt, or least obviously implied it, with the soft chuckle Kurt makes.
Kurt kisses him into silence, soft and patient, waiting for Blaine to return to his senses.
Like that’s going to happen.
“We should get cleaned up,” Kurt says at some point.
“Yeah. We should. Later.”
Kurt leans back, a strange smile on his face. “You taste different.”
“I taste like you. Is that weird?” Before Kurt can answer, Blaine does for him. “It’s not weird, for me, at least. I liked it. I liked doing that for you.”
Kurt smirking post-sex is really kind of unfairly hot. “I could tell.”