DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy. Title from "Insurance?"' by The Higher.
Warnings are: use of sex toys (aka double-sided dildo), underage youth getting their jiggy on, more rebellious!Blaine, slight swearing.
Happy six-month Klainiversary, everyone!
Though Kurt may not like Blaine's father that much—or at all, really, but he still finds it rude to state those things out loud even if Blaine voices it clearly almost every second he's at home—Kurt likes Blaine's house when it's just the two of them and the echoes they create. Like today, when it's hot outside but cool inside and Kurt can forget that the world exists when Blaine's lips are trailing down his neck and he's making needy sounds like he's the one getting ravished instead of Kurt.
It's when Blaine's hands are rucking up his shirt, thumbs ghosting across his nipples and down his sides that he speaks and Kurt startles, just a little. "So I got mad at my dad the other day—"
"Mhm and what else is new?" Kurt tips his neck to the side to give Blaine more room.
"—and I took his credit card—"
"Again, nothing new." Kurt distinctly remembers several purchases in the past of orders of scarves and hats from Urban Outfitters that sit, unused, in the back of Blaine's closet, as a big fuck you.
"Really, Blaine, your ideas of revenge are childis—wait." Kurt sits up and pushes Blaine away. He avoids looking at Blaine's lips right now because they're either like Medusa or a Siren and whichever way, they're going to make Kurt want to do nothing but continue kissing him until he can't breathe anymore or kill him right on the spot, which would be tragic. "Did you say what I think you just said?"
Blaine shrugs sheepishly. "I figured it'd be the best way to get back at him for telling me that singing with the Warblers was a waste of time and that I'd better not be doing it when school starts up again, so I shopped around and got the most expensive one. The reviews said that it was really nice."
"Blaine, you're not even eighteen yet!" Kurt's not sure if he's more incredulous at the fact that Blaine actually went online to a sex shop and read reviews until he found the perfect one, or that his idea of a good revenge plan was buying a sex toy with his dad's credit card. And maybe, in a few ways, it was a good revenge plan, but in so many other ways it could only end very, very badly.
Really, Kurt's still stuck on Blaine browsing through a sex shop, hair gelled back and Dalton uniform still on. It's like the beginning of a very bad porn—or at least, from the snippets of really bad porn that he's seen before he's had to shut it off or risk ralphing all over his clothes. The last thing he needs is a really twangy bass guitar in his life.
"So?" Blaine counters like that's the real argument. "It's not like the card was in my name. It was in his."
Kurt looks at him. Really looks at him and sees past the disheveled appearance, the dorky-cute way he brushes errant curls off of his forehead, only to have them rebelliously fall right back down. He looks almost shy and when did that happen? Blaine Anderson is not a shy boy. He'd been the one who had readily stripped down their first time together, unabashed and confident while Kurt had been shaking almost too much to slide his uniform slacks down and off.
"What are you going to do with it?" Kurt asks, powering through it even though he knows that it's a totally dumb question. What else do you do with a double-sided dildo? It certainly wouldn't make a nice decorative centerpiece, that's for sure.
Blaine rubs the back of his neck and says, so softly that Kurt has to strain to hear it, "I was kinda hoping to use it with… with you."
Silence settles over the room and how is it that just five minutes ago they were making out? "I—I…" Kurt stammers. He's at a total loss. They haven't been dating very long and up until this point it'd been only blowjobs and handjobs accompanied with the occasional fingers for Blaine and even those were still slightly tentative. Kurt still flushes a fierce red whenever Blaine rubs off on his thigh as he works his mouth over Kurt's cock and he's still a little shy about being so open with someone else.
Now he's sitting here, in Blaine's spacious bedroom while his father is out of town for another couple of days, and Blaine's dropping this bombshell and the idea is a lot hotter than anything has any right to be. Kurt swallows and rubs his palm along the top of his jean-clad thigh nervously. "Have you even—"
"Yes," Blaine quickly answers. "You never caught on when I begged for your fingers?"
Kurt shakes his head, momentarily mute as he processes Blaine's words. Well. If he could have been prepared for an answer it certainly wouldn't have been this one. Cool, calm, collected, dapper Blaine—writing under the touch of his own fingers, the smooth, slick slide of a vibrator? Now Kurt's itching to know more, find out whether or not his name is present on Blaine's lips when he comes.
More importantly: why haven't they been doing this all along?
All he can see is Blaine spread on top of these sheets, this very room darkened, rutting his cock against the linen as he works a toy in and out of his ass. Kurt envisions himself kneeling behind Blaine, hand gripping tightly at the base of whatever ridiculous vibrator Blaine would buy, flicking his wrist and working it in-out in a dizzyingly fast and rough fashion.
He wants to make Blaine beg, hear him moan and whine as Kurt brings him to the edge over and over again before backing off, and oh, when did this side of him make an appearance? Kurt presses his lips desperately to Blaine's, open and sloppy and wet, and grips a hand tight in loose black curls.
"Why did your revenge plan have to involve this?" he asks desperately against Blaine's spit-slicked lips, biting gently into the swell of the lower. "Just—fuck." He never swears. "All I can see now is you—"
"I always imagined that it was you." Blaine says it casually but there's a darker undertone like in fine cologne, a spicy hint of arousal and cheek and a dash of uninhibited want extract. "It was only at the beginning of the summer and I'd have to wait until my dad was asleep, but in the dark it was always you."
"Oh my god, Blaine, stop!" Kurt closes the distance between them again and grabs Blaine's face in his hands, lips pressing insistently, working until Blaine's mouth is open and waiting and Kurt's tongue can slide in. It's as messy as the previous kiss, teenage-sloppy and leaking with hormones and lust, Kurt's teeth sharp and tugging, tongue tracing the ridges of the roof of Blaine's mouth to hear and feel him moan.
Blaine looks a little like Kurt has slapped him in the face when they part and it's that kicked-puppy look that causes Kurt to realize exactly how harsh his words has sounded earlier despite the frantic kiss. Kurt takes Blaine's hand from where it's wrapped around his waist and brings it to the front of his jeans. Blaine gasps softly at the hard outline under his palm, pressing his forehead to Kurt's.
A soft sigh escapes Kurt's lips as he says, "Just from you talking about it. This is why I needed you to stop." He feels the blush before it begins as he leans over to whisper in Blaine's ear, "I didn't want to come before we could use your new toy."
Blaine's eyes sparkle and a wide grin tugs at his lips when he pulls back and says, "You're saying yes?"
"I can't say no to you," Kurt replies dramatically.
Blaine gives him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before moving over to his nightstand, pulling open the bottom drawer, rummaging through it for a few moments. When he turns around he has the dildo clutched in his right hand, bottle of lube in his left. Kurt's eyes widen a little at the sight of the toy with Blaine's fingers wrapped around it.
It's long, somewhere around a foot in length, and is a little thicker than Kurt's own cock. At each end it curves gently upward and appears to be made of what Kurt assumes is blown glass, the middle a deep blue that borders on Dalton navy and he can't help but roll his eyes a little bit. How typical. Kurt's just glad that it's not a disgusting shade of pink or lavender.
"I know what you're thinking," Blaine says as he sets it on the bed. "You're glad I didn't choose a bright color, aren't you?"
"Hit the nail on the head," Kurt replies, but he smiles and steps forward, taking Blaine's hands in his own and just feeling, holding. Over this past year he's grown up so much, learned that the world doesn't revolve around him and that bullies are a lot shittier when they have a crush on you. He's transferred schools, met a group of guys who are, for all purposes of the word, something of a family, transferred back, and got his first real boyfriend who's been so many other firsts since that fateful day in March.
Blaine. Blaine with his large, expressive eyes, his warm palms and calloused fingers, his everything that makes Kurt feel whole and happy.
Kurt had meant it when he said "I love you, too" in the Lima Bean. It'd been hesitant, partly because it was either wait a second or burn his esophagus beyond repair with a mouthful of hot mocha latte, and partly because it was the first time that anyone outside of the family had ever said those words to him and he'd been frozen for a second in shock. It had been surprising and so, so overdue that he'd wanted to lean over the table and kiss Blaine senseless, the way he'd seen two college-age boys do back in New York, before he remembered that he was back in Back Asswards, Ohio.
Delay or not, Blaine never stopped looking at him like he was the sun and the moon and the stars all put together. Kurt knew that what they had was special beyond words.
They strip each other slowly, taking the time to let hands rub and scratch at newly-bared skin, for lips to press and suck and draw the blood to the surface on collarbones and pectorals. When they kneel together on the bed Blaine slides Kurt's shirt off his shoulders, letting it flutter gently to the ground before closing his mouth over Kurt's nipples in turn until both are dark and wet, pebbling against the cool air and the arousal that's burning in tendrils through Kurt's stomach.
Kurt threads his fingers through Blaine's hair, scratching gently at his scalp, as he continues his ministrations downwards, tongue laving and tasting Kurt's pale skin, the nearly-imperceptible fuzzy trail of hair that he rests his palm against as he presses Kurt down onto his back. "I wanna prepare you," he says to the cool metal of the button on Kurt's jeans. His eyes flicker upward briefly, awaiting a nod that's readily given to him, before he pulls open the button and slides the zipper down.
"Ah," Kurt gasps, fingers tightening in Blaine's hair as Blaine reaches a hand inside his briefs to grasp his cock. He urges his hips upward as Blaine tugs at his jeans and briefs and he's naked before he's really aware of anything that's not BlaineBlaineBlaine and the heat of his mouth as he lowers it onto Kurt's cock.
It lasts far shorter than Kurt wants it to, and when Blaine pulls away he makes grabby hands, muttering a string of words that, on a coherent person, would have been pleas. Blaine sits back on his heels, fist wrapped around his cock, and watches in amusement. He uses his thumb to flick open the cap of the lube, drizzling it onto his fingers, spreading Kurt's legs with his clean hand before he kneels and rubs a finger over the puckered ring of muscles.
Kurt hums a little, eyes sliding closed as Blaine eases the finger in down to the third knuckle, waiting for a few moments before adding the second. Though Kurt thoroughly enjoys every second of Blaine's fingers inside of him, of the quiet noises of wonderment Blaine makes whenever the muscles flutter around his fingers and the way Kurt must look when Blaine's fingers are spread as wide as his body allows them to be, he wants more, wants what Blaine wants and he's readier than he thought possible.
"Fuck, fuck, okay," he says, grabbing at Blaine's wrist, his eyes a little glassy and unfocused and lips a little chapped. Blaine laughs a little, so quiet it's almost unheard, and slips his fingers out.
"C'mere, let me…" Kurt says, trailing off when Blaine shakes his head and spaces his legs, leaning forward on his knees as he slips one finger inside of himself, then two. "Blaine," Kurt says, enraptured, wanting so much to reach out and touch, to slide his fingers in alongside Blaine's, but he doesn't. He waits, watches with hungry eyes as Blaine moans and arches, cock hard and red between his legs and bobbing with every movement.
"Switch me places," Blaine murmurs when he slides his fingers out, reaching for the dildo. Kurt gets up on shaky limbs, scooting down to the end of the bed while Blaine takes his spot, lying on his back and propped up by his elbows. He slicks both ends of the toy as a precaution before spreading his legs as wide as he can. Kurt doesn't hold back his gasp or try to hide the hand reaching down to thumb at the head of his cock.
Grasping the dildo somewhere in the center, glass cool under Blaine's palm, he lines it up with his entrance, rubbing the tip around the slick hole a few times, his hips stuttering slightly as his breathing turns a little heavier. He twists his wrist to angle the curve as he slides it in an inch or two. Kurt's moan, low and wanton as he watches the toy disappear into Blaine's body, breaks the silence.
Blaine's head tips back when his hand comes flush to his ass and he stills, licking his lips as he says to Kurt, "Come here."
Kurt slides onto his back, scooting close to Blaine, sliding his right leg under Blaine's left thigh and bracketing his right when his own left. It feels a little ridiculous like this, with his weight on his arms and the other end of the dildo close but not close enough yet, and he's not entirely too sure about this position (he's sure Santana would be, though) but it feels right and he sort of really loves the scratchy-smooth feel of Blaine's dark hair against his calf and thigh. It reminds him that this is his boyfriend, that what they have is real and he can allow himself moments of happiness and pleasure like any straight couple.
Lifting his gaze up, Kurt sees that Blaine's eyes are on him, dark and hooded and demon-like in their lust. Kurt lets his gaze trail down Blaine's body, from his chest, the fine dark hair coating it and the ripples of his abdomen, to the heavy weight of his cock lying hard against his stomach. Kurt's eyes are drawn to the thin dildo, the mountain range of Blaine's knuckles as he holds it inside of himself and waits.
Kurt wraps his hand around the toy, knuckle-to-knuckle with Blaine. He gives him a shy smile before moving forward slightly until the head breaches his body with a slight pinching feeling. It's by no means an impressive girth or texture but just the knowledge that Blaine is so close, in such a similar position, makes Kurt groan loudly when his ass is flush with his hand as well, the sting dulling down to a throb at the back of his mind when he shifts his hips and his breath catches in his throat.
He's never been too enamored with the idea of anything in his ass: the amount of prep time and pain he'll always experience versus the amount of time spent getting pleasured never added up to him, and when Blaine had offhandedly mentioned how much he enjoyed it, Kurt had been more than happy to oblige and focus his energy on that. They'll switch up sometime, he's sure, when he's not so self-conscious about the cleanliness of his body, and now that he's got the other half of the dildo in him, cool and so very obviously not real, he wonders what the real thing feels like.
Blaine is the first to rock his hips, removing his hand and pushing forward, then back. Kurt keeps his grip on the middle, holding it steady as Blaine rolls his hips, taking more each time before pulling back. Each movement sends Kurt's end a little deeper into him, the curve of it barely missing his prostate and leaving him with a desperate sort of itch.
Kurt grips it tighter, swiveling his wrist experimentally and flicking it upwards on Blaine's end. Blaine's back arches and his fingers grapple in the sheets as a loud moan rumbles in his chest. He breathes, "Fuck, Kurt. Move with me, please," as he presses closer. Kurt removes his hand from the toy, leaving a sweaty handprint behind, as he locks his legs tight around Blaine's torso, feeling Blaine's soccer-muscled calves tight around his own lithe dancer's torso. With nothing blocking it the dildo slides deeper and Kurt can't help his groan as it goes further than Kurt thought possible, soothing the itch.
When they grind together, Blaine's ass nearly flush with his own, Kurt's never felt more electric, more alive, than he has now. He can feel Blaine's muscles moving, rippling, feel the hitch as a particularly sensitive spot is hit, and when the rounded head finally brushes against his prostate he's gone, moaning and bucking, pushing the toy further into Blaine's body as one hand grips onto Blaine's thigh, digging his nails in roughly as he comes over his stomach and chest.
Blaine isn't nearly as far gone as him, though his eyes are rounded, jaw slack as he stares at Kurt, and with a wince Kurt slides off, grasping his end of the toy in hand. He kneels between Blaine's legs and can't resist rubbing the pad of his index finger along where the muscle stretches around the intrusion, imaging it's his cock, not a pole of glass, making Blaine moan and whine and move against.
"I'm gonna fuck you," Kurt says as he moves the dildo in and out, teasing. "Next time, you won't need this."
"Please, please, please," Blaine whines, spreading his legs so much that it looks like it must hurt. He grips his cock and strokes, sloppy and rough.
Kurt tilts it upward and knows he's hit his mark when Blaine arches, moving up into the circle of his hand and down onto the dildo, coming over his stomach and chest with a long, high moan. This is a far cry from their usual play, Kurt thinks as he slides the dildo out, unable to resist rubbing his finger over where Blaine's still pink and stretched and he could really, really get used to seeing that.
"Best waste of your dad's money ever?" he asks casually as he stands, walking a little jerkily, scrunching his face up, to Blaine's en suite bathroom and depositing the dildo in the sink before dampening a dark green washcloth, washing off his torso before heading back out to do the same for Blaine.
Blaine's sprawled out on the bed, his small frame somehow managing to take up almost all of it. His arm is flung over his eyes but his smile is visible as he says, "It didn't seem like it was a waste."
Kurt sits down next to him, grabbing his briefs from the floor and sliding them on. He looks at the drying mess of come and says, "You managed to get some on your neck." He's impressed.
"Guess you're just gonna have to lick it off," Blaine replies, his answer as flippant as one of Kurt's, and Kurt drops the washcloth on the floor and laughs.
"Guess I will."