Title:work that silver magic
Disclaimer: not mine, any of it. title comes from "Bitch of Living" from Spring Awakening
Inspiration: Um. As we learned in The First Time, Blaine masturbates.
Notes: Minor spoilers for The First Time

Just the sweeter tug of a little further as Blaine exhales hotly. The slide of lube through his fingers squelches and a breath catches at the back of this throat, sticks dryly between his tongue and his soft palette and strangles his moan. The desperate roll of his hips up and up shakes the bed and his toes curl. His muscles are giving way because he's closecloseclose and all he needs is that last little…

His mind reels, flipping through scenes and he's pressing flush against Kurt and he's digging fingers into his hips and he's trailing his tongue down his chest and he's canting his hips against the hard line of Kurt and he's pulling back layers and layers of Kurt's fabulous wardrobe. He's kissing thick and filthy and licking into Kurt's mouth and

And twisting his wrist and catching his fingers under the head of his cock and trailing down fast and rough and tucking fingers low to coast over his balls andugh fuck. He chokes on that, "Fuck," sticking like paste to saliva-slick lips, parted and swollen from biting on the bottom to keep sounds soft and low and under the radar. The felt-soft, heather-light hem of the shirt he stole from Kurt a week past brushes over his hand and falls against his cock and he nearly gags on the surge of heat that slams into him.

His head rocks back and hits against the headboard and he's panting jagged and his fingers twitch and his other hand rockets from trailing his chest to gripping, white-pain, into the sheets at his side. He moans low and exhales like a sob and then with a "Kurt," he's coming.

It paints over the tee shirt and Blaine rocks and shakes with it, trembling and slingshotting into dimensions unknown and galaxies past and there's a brilliant flash of light that cuts through his sight and in the orgasm-blank of his mind Blaine thinks he's dying and then he's coming back. Resettling into his bones, into his muscles, into his lungs. And he's back on his bed, in Ohio, in his boyfriends shirt. His hair is undone behind him and his body is still shaking and he can just barely breath.

"Baby," comes a hum across the room and Blaine flushes full-body. "That was hot. Hotter than Taylor Lautner on a dewy meadow of lilac. Way hotter."

Blaine can just barely breath out a loose laugh at that, eyes fluttering open to Kurt climbing onto the bed and crawling over to him. He catches along the side, kisses Blaine on his bruised lips and presses a hand to the center of his chest. Blaine's hands are shaking as he lifts the clean one up to cup around the back of Kurt's head. "Cross that one off the list now, hmm?"

He can practically hear Kurt roll his eyes at him and he nods with their foreheads pressed together. "Yes. Watch Blaine jerk off: check." And then their kissing again and Blaine hums into it, whining playfully when Kurt pulls back. "Stay," he murmurs, smiling soft. "I'll be right back. Gonna clean you up. And then…" There's a scandalous lilt to the end of that, suggestive and promising and Blaine's entire body perks at that.

And then Kurt is padding away, to the bathroom and Blaine exhales with a shake lets his head settle back and closes his eyes and feel loose and happy and shining and terrific.