Author: Regala Electra
Spoilers: S2 Prom Queen
Warnings: Sexual Content, Language
Word Count: 1,853
Summary: He never knew he'd be interested in a selected personal creation that would be marked on Blaine's skin alone for their own viewing pleasure until Blaine told him about his decision to get the tattoo. Blaine had actually said get inked and they'd both had an uneasy laugh at that, the way the words didn't seem to fit at all. Or that time Kurt found Blaine's tattoo really hot and much sex happened. Future fic, set in their senior year of high school.
Author's Notes: So rrrowr and devonwood got to talking about Blaine having a tattoo and then Ro said "tattoo on the inside of his thigh. So that Kurt can lick over it." Then I wrote a little something, expanded a little something and here you go, have some porn.
“Are you ready now?” he asks, fingers alternating between the loosened curls of Blaine’s hair and the shell of his ear. It’s a lovely distraction but Kurt isn’t really aching for the lovely afterglow when there’s so much more to come.
Blaine shudders, a slow pan down to Kurt’s naked chest before looking up. There’s a trail of spit and semen dragging along his bottom lip but Kurt’s in no hurry to brush it off. Blaine’s gaze is dark and sometimes Kurt has to glance away before getting too lost but he doesn’t this time. “I’m ready.”
“Well then,” and Kurt leans down to nip Blaine’s lip, flicking his tongue quickly to get a taste of the mess. “I think you should take your pants off now.”
“I don’t know how long I can—”
“However long I want,” Kurt says, taking a hold of Blaine’s hands as he pulls him up, changing positions so he can kneel before Blaine. “Wait for me.”
He'd studied the proper guidelines of tattoo maintenance before Blaine had brought up the idea of Kurt coming with him to the tattoo session. Blaine had tried to play it off, that it wasn't that big of a deal, a small, secret thing, easily hidden under shorts or even a bathing suit, but so obvious when his pants are stripped off, when naked, and Kurt thought at that moment, all for him.
He was supposed to find it tacky and talk Blaine out of it. Maybe he was supposed to chide him for such a stupid response to turning eighteen and having to make his decision to pick a college.
(They'd already faced that battle and come to a respectable decision: same city, different schools, and Kurt already knows that they'd make it work. He doesn’t need to see the end with Blaine, because there is no end, only them.)
But Kurt hadn't judged him or tried to stop him. He'd gasped a little, but Blaine's been able to categorize all of Kurt's noises and he'd been able to realize in that instant that was not a Kurt Hummel sound of disapproval. Indeed, while Kurt's always wondered why anyone would get a tattoo placed in a tacky spot, there was something quite appealing about an intimate, small marking, something special, a design.
Kurt's fond of elite designers, true, and he’s fallen hard for patterns that others fear are simply too much and far too out there. He never knew he'd be interested in a selected personal creation that would be marked on Blaine's skin alone for their own viewing pleasure until Blaine told him about his decision to get the tattoo. Blaine had actually said get inked and they'd both had an uneasy laugh at that, the way the words didn't seem to fit at all.
It was a secret then, a dirty little secret, and Kurt worried for exactly half a second about how hard he got at the thought of it. Then he started thinking logistics.
So he'd done his research. They do that now, because as mortifying as pamphlets might be, having a general idea turned out to be very helpful. When he'd first touched Blaine and gotten to the point of actually getting him off, he'd lost himself in it. Then he started studying up a little, to better himself he’d claimed, while Blaine had panted in his ear, muttering that it didn’t matter, that it was so, so good, and please keep touching him, yeah like that, oh god, don't stop.
He’s mostly been using Blaine as his main means of experimentation.
Not that Blaine ever complained.
Now, he's got Blaine underneath him, almost whimpering with need because they've been so good, on their very best behavior. Okay, well maybe Kurt's been torturing him a little while they’ve had to wait: hurried hand jobs when they've had the time to spare, but he hasn't gone down on him since Blaine got the tattoo, despite Blaine begging him with his mouth and damn, Blaine's mouth.
Kurt had claimed that he didn't want to damage the healing process for the tattoo but in reality, he just wanted to see how long it takes before Blaine's lost his damn mind in his need to get his dick sucked. His oral fixation goes both ways although Kurt suspects he much prefers giving with the eagerness he's just sucked off Kurt.
Now there's not a scrap of clothing on either of them and Blaine's skin is covered in a faint sheen, something that should be gross, but it's clean salt that Kurt licks from the crook of his knee to the dark, fine hairs of his thigh, stopping just before the tattoo, high on his leg so Kurt has to spread him a little to reach it.
This is his favorite part: Blaine’s unsteady breathing, the little hitch he makes in the back of his throat, the way Blaine tenses all over, skin flushing. Making Blaine wait for it is the best.
There’s a whole lot of adjectives Kurt can apply to Blaine and he’s used plenty of them, handsome and dreamy at the top of the list. But when he’s so full of need, the one he really wants to use is pretty and it should be strange how fitting it is, but it isn’t surprising, not even a little bit.
Want and need get so confusing and it’s a little hard to keep track of which one is more important but when it’s muddled like this, Kurt couldn’t be more amazed. His fingers trace along the outer edge of Blaine’s tattoo, a blunt fingernail testing the sensitivity of the altered skin.
"Kurt," Blaine moans, hips thrusting forward and Blaine is on his best behavior, not even touching his dick because Kurt told him to hold off and when Kurt says things in a low, quiet voice, Blaine listens. "Please."
He doesn't expect the skin to be tender but the moment his tongue slides across, Blaine is shameless, hands curling in the bed sheet, head tossing back. The tendons of his neck are tight against his skin and Kurt thinks about ignoring this new sweet spot to dive upwards towards an old familiar one.
It would be so easy, too. Just scrape his teeth against the place where smooth skin turns into faint stubble, the start of Blaine’s rough beard growth, which he’s confessed he hates, the way he’s hairy all over. Kurt’s still got quite a bit of convincing to do to assure Blaine that no, it’s not only fine, it’s perfect.
But he wants to see a new way to make Blaine come undone. His hand, slick with a discreet application of lube, wraps firm around Blaine's cock as he pumps, kissing and sucking at the dark swirl of the mark, wondering when Blaine's finally going to admit he got it because it means Blaine's his.
“Oh god,” Blaine cries out and Kurt lets go of him immediately, pulling back before Blaine knocks him off balance as he aimlessly thrusts forward. Blaine’s able to gather his wits in the last second but he’s so wrecked and so close to the end that Kurt has to stretch up, yanking Blaine down into a messy and ungainly kiss, a disaster in the making but somehow it almost goes right.
“I’ve got you,” Kurt says because it’s true.
He takes the leisurely route back down, nuzzles his nose against the trail of hair past Blaine’s bellybutton. Maybe he mumbles so dark because it makes Blaine laugh and then he relishes in that sweet, shocked gasp when Kurt sucks Blaine off, not as far down as he can go, but close enough.
Blaine could come in Kurt’s mouth like this and Kurt wouldn’t be ready for it. He’d gag a little and have to spit most of it out and Blaine would thank him like he’s given Blaine an outstanding blowjob.
(Yes, Blaine thanks him after coming. It’s still weird but Kurt’s gotten used to it.)
No, Kurt decides, he’ll save that for another time, and the best part is—there will be another chance. Maybe it’s because he’s a little distracted that when his hand finally returns to the fine work ahead, stroking Blaine in the best of ways, steady, fast, tightening his fist more than Kurt personally enjoys but Blaine vocally endorses, he gets a little overzealous and instead of licking and sucking at the tattoo, he dives down to taste the skin next to it and his teeth graze over—
That’s all it takes. Blaine’s shooting over Kurt's hand, one hand letting go of the sheet to clutch the back of Kurt’s head, encouraging Kurt to bite his thigh a little harder and then Kurt sucks the worried spot, sliding his tongue eagerly back up to the tattoo, working Blaine through the orgasm.
There’s a moment, a little pause that Kurt kind of hates, where they get all nervous, like that haven’t done this plenty of times before, and aren’t they grownups? Almost at the very least. Blaine with his tattoo and Kurt with his plans for the future, but they’re still in Lima and high school’s not over. They’re teetering on a edge and Kurt would kindly ask said edge to go the hell away and freak out some other couple except Kurt’s slowly becoming accustomed to the truth it’ll never be gone, not really.
So, they hesitate and Kurt has to shuffle for a better position when he slides into bed next to Blaine, running his soiled hand against the pooling come on Blaine’s belly.
“One of us should clean this up,” he says, pretending to be disgusted before running his fingers back to Blaine’s thigh, where the tattoo and bite mark lie side by side. It's a nice picture. If he bites harder next time, Kurt bets it could last longer.
Blaine throws him this hazy, hopeful look, and Kurt’s pretense crumbles away.
“I’ll be careful,” he swears, guiding Blaine through the aftershocks as he licks him clean.
They don’t get to spend the morning together. One day they will, but for now, they’re getting dressed in clothes that feel almost alien against oversensitive skin. There’s no time to take a shower and Kurt tries not to think too much about heading home reeking of sex.
“You’ve never thought about it, right?”
Kurt looks up from his complicated try to make clothes look less obviously rumpled from getting tossed on the ground work (a lost cause but he's determined) and asks, “Never thought about what?”
“Getting a tattoo.”
“Ask me in a year.”
Blaine’s eyes widen as he steps closer, his hand over Kurt’s. Which is over his chest but it’s fitting. “Seriously?”
“Yes,” Kurt says, smiling. “The answer will be no. But you’ll be around to ask me.”
“Yeah,” Blaine promises. “And the year after that.”
“Good,” Kurt says, leaning down to kiss him. “I need to make sure you’re taking good care of that tattoo.”
“Why do I need to take care of it when I have you?”