Title: Pulling Focus
Spoilers: Up to date
Summary: Kurt wants to put on a bit of a show for Blaine
A/N: Fic 2 of 3 today. Yeah…priorities. This was begun just before episode 5 for jude-araya who basically asked for a fic in which one put a show on for the other. Be it stripping or masturbating or whatever. I kept them young, this is a few months post-their-first-time and it's a fantasy that's built between them without them really knowing it. It also has a whole fuckload of parallels with the third fic which should be out in a few hours (if I can work out the last orgasm) in that I wrote them side by side, alt tabbing from one to the next. It's interesting, I think. Anyway…fic?
They're still new to this.
The sex. And the talking that goes with it. They can't quite put the two together until they're desperate and rutting and then little unexpected reveals slip out.
The build is quiet or measured. Blaine will ask important questions about readiness—of himself, of Kurt, of them—and Kurt will mutter, blushing furiously, confessions of love and lust and how much he's fallen for Blaine's hands. Except he really means cock and ass and yeah, hands, but especially when they're on his skin, or inside him, stretching him out. They swallow too much, it's a dead giveaway that they're holding back in the build of kisses and touches. Swallowing too-wet mouths and words.
But when they're close they mumble out things they don't mean to and there are wicked grins passed back and forth and both of them file everything away when they're not strung out too high on adrenaline and bliss and sex.
It's in one of those moments, dark, extraordinarily quiet beneath the sheets, that Blaine mumbles out something like, "I wish I could see you getting off this hard," and thinks nothing of it and then comes, biting down on the muscles of Kurt's chest and buried deep inside him.
But Kurt remembers and wonders what he means. Turns the idea over and over in his head, tries it on. Always, in between and next to all his other new ideas, as he lies there in the darkness in the middle of the night. Most nights.
Puck once said getting a girlfriend meant not having to wank every morning, lunchtime and night…Kurt had rolled his eyes and acted disgusted…he used to get off once every couple of days. Imagined Taylor Lautner or Zac Efron or Ryan Gosling…and yeah, fine, sometimes Blaine. Sometimes he forgot about his dick and it was a whole week.
Now. Now that he's with Blaine and they've…touched and come and fucked. He gets hard too often. Gets off whenever he can chance it. And at night, convenient box of vogue magazines placed across the closed door, just to hinder, just long enough…
Tonight he thinks of Blaine and instead of imagining him buried deep inside him, visa versa, pressed cock to cock, mouths, hands, just this mess of limbs in shadows and stolen glances, stolen, desperate words…
He imagines Blaine at the other end of the bed, not touching, not in shadows. Talking, and telling him what to do. And Kurt answering back all sassy and bitchy and demanding. And he can't work out who's touching themselves. Maybe they both are. But he gets off on it.
Four nights in a row. And a morning shower. And god, if he'd wanted, that one day at school when Blaine had leaned a little too close and murmured, "I'll miss you."
And Blaine wants it. Maybe. It's hard to tell.
He tries to broach it one afternoon over coffee.
"Do you want to watch me—" his words die in his throat. God he hates that. He trusts Blaine with everything but he just can't say it.
Blaine's brow creases. "Always, of course…have you got an audition coming up for something?"
Kurt shakes his head and blushes furiously. "I mean in bed."
Blaine smiles that soft, caring smile and it's so not what he wants. Kurt splutters and gulps down too-hot coffee to try to cover it all.
But Blaine blushes harder and shakes his head. "I always want to see you," he tries.
Kurt just shakes his head and smiles and Blaine does the same back.
Except then they fight. A stupid little thing explodes out into a proper fight. What's strange is that it never means they might be breaking up, might be over, it just means they're glaring at each other and spending restless nights in bed and when Kurt lies there, wide awake, imagining Blaine grovelling, he gets off to that. Which is new. But…nice.
And then he realizes he's wrong. This whole thing is him blowing things out of proportion, over-reacting, the diva in him coming to the surface and making a big deal out of something that probably could have been resolved with a few easy words.
And he does apologize, he admits he made a mistake and they talk about it and Blaine grins and shakes his head as though to dispel the whole thing.
Except then they get to Blaine's bedroom and it's just his annoying older sister, downstairs with her boyfriend, all over each other and gross on the couch and Blaine's kissing Kurt with these silly, pecking, teasing kisses until Kurt's hands wind into his hair and pull him in hard and close and bump their hips together, pulls his mouth against his and instantly he's kissing him as hard and deep as he can.
"I am sorry for overreacting," Kurt tells him again.
But Blaine's still shocked by the tongue sliding back inside his mouth and just groans against it.
But Kurt's cognisant. "I want to make it up to you," he pushes Blaine back onto the bed and pulls his sweater, his shirt, his undershirt, all off in one movement. He takes a breath, god he never thought he'd be the one to push. "I want to try something new."
Blaine just lies there, on his back, but up on his elbows, legs hanging over the edge of the bed and with wide eyes and a wide mouth and obvious lust. Blatant lust. He nods and swallows.
Kurt wonders what he swallows. But he feels bad for being a shitty boyfriend for the last week and wants to make it up to Blaine and—entirely selfishly—wants to try this…because it is hot and affirming and so powerful when he imagines it.
In reality though, it feels a bit weird.
"Shift back," Kurt says and he sounds entirely unsure.
Blaine demurs, shuffles back to the head of the bed and Kurt wonders, wonders, blushes hard…"Um….other end?"
Oh god this is stupid. What if he didn't mean it? No…fuck, he meant it. What if he meant something different? Like what? Kurt goes through it all, over and over, tainted by weeks of getting off to what he wanted it to be and a fight and he was wrong.
And this is Blaine's fantasy and it's become Kurt's and he feels a bit guilty because this isn't the sacrifice he convinced himself he was making moments before. God he feels turned on.
Another swallow, this time his own and goddamnit, he tells himself, he needs to stop swallowing things. Blaine settles, legs crossed, back too straight, at the foot of the bed and Kurt stands beside it, hands on the zip of his pants, shoes toed off somewhere. He has the pillows and the headboard and suddenly making a fool of himself and asking doesn't seem anywhere near as bad as making a fool of himself and doing and he's saying it before he realizes: "Do you want to watch me get myself off?"
Blaine's mouth drops open and his eyes go wide and something high-pitched escapes. Kurt watches and takes it all as a good sign. "Because you said something like that a couple of weeks ago," he says. "And I thought about it. And if you want that, I want to do it. Kind of to make up for being a less-than-perfect boyfriend for the last week—"
"You don't have to!" Blaine says, cutting across him and raising a hand and he sounds shocked and, Kurt thinks, turned on. "You never have to give me sex to make up for things!" God, he sounds a bit outraged too. That's so sweet.
"I want to," Kurt tells him. "If you want me to."
Blaine nods, calming and bites down on his lip. "You're just going to…there?"
Kurt's face burns and he shrugs, wondering what else he could do. "Is that okay? If anything's not okay, just say so." He wonders if this is how awkward it's going to be every time he wants to try something new. He wonders but Blaine nods and settles, a hand tugging at the material of his pants and making Kurt smile just a little.
"I'm going to take my pants off now," Kurt tells him.
"By all means," Blaine grins back.
Hands slipping under the waistband and pushing the tight denim down his legs, Kurt loses eye-contact as he pulls his socks off his toes and then steps out of his jeans. He doesn't re-establish eye contact until he's naked and sitting with his knees bent and together, up in front of him, at the head of the bed. Then he stares over them down to Blaine who's staring back.
Another swallow and he feels bare and on display already and it's not that Blaine hasn't seen him naked, hasn't fucked him slow and hard and languorous with the lights on. Had his mouth tight around Kurt's dick and his hands wandering while his eyes slipped up over his skin. But this is so much worse. It feels awkward and exposed and kind of hot because his cock is achingly hard and if the lights were off he's be fucking into his hand hard and fast and noisy already.
But he still feels exposed and weird and when he fantasises he just feels powerful and amazing. "Promise me you won't laugh or that you'll stop me if you feel like you're going to?
Blaine actually almost laughs at that in itself but manages to curb the sound. "Kurt I…You have no idea how many times I've gotten off to this fantasy."
Kurt's head cocks.
"Imagine it was me putting on a show for you? Would you be laughing?" Blaine's voice wavers and even though the absurdity of such a notion is immediately obvious, Kurt realizes the turnabout in play.
"Yeah" he breathes out, eyes fluttering closed, images of Blaine spread and hard and touching flickering in front of him. "Okay…"
All or nothing. In his fantasies he always hears Blaine tell him that. In his fantasies, he thinks, Blaine's usually a little more vocal, a little more demanding. He tells himself now and then drops his knees open, feet sliding out as wide as he can get them, legs still bent as he slides down until his back is at a 45 degree angle to the bed. He wraps a hand around his cock and fuck, he's hard.
He whines at the contact and his eyes flutter open when he hears Blaine echo the sound, stares hard at his eyes which are not looking at his but are staring down at his hand, sliding lower, Kurt thinks, and drinking in the splay of pale skin, different shades over different muscles, pulled tight, light hairs and when he sees Blaine's pupils blown and his tongue licking his lips he feels that jolt of power and arches his back, showing more.
He keeps his strokes light, careful, he doesn't need this to be over fast because now he's enjoying it far more than he's not. Keeps stroking, thumb over the head slicking the precome down and around and the friction, the rub, is a little too rough.
Eyes closed again he listens to his own breathing, somehow slower than Blaine's and concentrates on building the little whines from his throat, lets them get louder as his hand squeezes tighter and he strokes harder, building a little and then slowing, eyes open again to watch Blaine.
One of Blaine's hands has dropped to his pants and is rubbing the outline of his cock where it's pressed tight to his left leg.
In his fantasies, Kurt always says, "I usually have to be a lot quieter than this," because he does, in his room, late at night. It's usually a hot throaty admission that makes Blaine groan and sometimes makes him crawl up and bed and kiss him.
Kurt says it now and it's high-pitched but apparently still hot because Blaine's voice slips low and he mutters, "You're never quiet with me. I never want you to be."
Without thinking, Kurt's hand's at his mouth and he's licking wet up his palm, three times before he realizes he hasn't done that in front of Blaine, only ever in front of himself and he freezes and watches Blaine for the reaction. Then he sucks two fingers into his mouth and moans around them and can't believe it when a droplet of sweat drips down Blaine's cheek and hangs at his jaw, trembling as Blaine stares and licks his lips again, whines, "Kurt," breathlessly as Kurt starts stroking himself again.
"You're enjoying this?" Kurt asks, hand twisting and rougher than Blaine has ever dared be with him.
"I'm gonna come in my pants off this," he admits and then bites his lip because that's one of those confessions he'd usually only murmur into the skin of Kurt's neck.
Kurt just chuckles deep in his throat. "Then stop touching," he teases.
"God, you are so hot," Blaine stutters out, uncrossing his legs, shifting to sit on his knees.
Kurt's hips rock and he aches for more, aches to come already and knows now he likes having an audience. Fuck, he gets off on it. He whines out a little high and mumbles, "Thank you," because he means it.
Blaine bites his lip again, watches Kurt's spare hand start meandering up his chest, flicking at nipples and he can't tell where the show ends and Kurt getting off for the sake of getting off begins; he'd never have guessed Kurt could do this to him from the other end of the bed, except he has. Perhaps he just never guessed he'd be getting it tonight.
If this was the fantasy…
"Can you grab me the lube?" Kurt whispers out, the question low in his throat and daring and he wonders what Blaine will think.
"What?" Blaine stutters.
"Kurt's hand twists to hear how broken and breathless he sounds. "The lube?" and he's really fucking close. In the fantasy, he's never this close this fast.
Blaine scrambles off the bed, cursing as he almost trips and falls on his way to the bedside table, the draw pulled too fast and coming all the way out, almost dropped to the ground. Blaine curses again and instead of laughing at him, Kurt chooses to whine low in his throat and call his boyfriend's name.
"Fuck," Blaine rummages in the draw and then puts it on the ground, forsaking his bedside table when he finds what he's looking for. Turning back to Kurt, watching his hand moving faster over his own cock, Blaine's mouth waters and he offers Kurt the bottle.
"Back on the bed," Kurt tells him, motioning with his chin to where Blaine was. Blaine looks like he almost wants to argue, to fall into Kurt and get him off himself but he doesn't because his eyes are still wide and drinking and the outline of his cock is still so obvious. Kurt swears he can see a hint of a wet spot on the leg of Blaine's pants where the precome has leaked through. Blaine tugs at his pants, trying to get more space, slinging them lower on his hips so when he's back on his knees at the end of the bed he's not in agony. Kurt grins.
Lube though. Dare he? But in the fantasy…
Cock in hand, still stroking, but slowed, dragging it out because he really, really wants. His other hand expertly clicks the cap open and angles the bottle. Cold, but this way he doesn't have to stop…he slides further down into the pillows, keeps stroking and dribbles the liquid onto his balls, hissing at the feeling and then sliding his hand down to grab and work the liquid around them, pull them tight and up so when he squeezes the bottle again, it drips onto his perenium and starts leaking down.
He hopes he doesn't make too much of a mess of the bed but with a glance up at Blaine's face he thinks, perhaps, Blaine wouldn't care so much if he did. It's cold and slick against his entrance but he lets it run and slip and slide until he's sure there's enough, caps it and throws it to the side.
Hand now free, he slides his fingers hot and fast down his balls, over the skin behind and starts rubbing circles through the wetness, feeling it warm and get slicker. He groans because he's still close, he's stroking his cock, pulling at his balls, thumb circling the head when he remembers and he's got three fingers pressed to his hole and Blaine's watching and groaning and fully clothed but completely undone.
Two fingers, pressing in circles, starting to edge in because there's too much wetness not to start pushing it into him, slipping one finger just inside, teasing, wanting to start fucking himself on his fingers like he does at home. But not quite yet.
Thinking that, god, he feels dirty and marvellous and shivers with it.
"Kurt, fuck, please."
Kurt's eyes open and he doesn't know when he closed them but there's Blaine, hands wound in the sheets, lips wet and bitten red and his eyes hungry, staring at him. He still isn't touching himself, he's still fully clothed and Kurt's kind of thankful for that, thankful for the audience and the begging he's getting and this is better than the fantasy.
He slides a fingers down and inside himself, all the way and biting his lip at the pressure and the fullness and then not as he lets himself still but for the slow, lazy stroke of his cock. Then out and back in, pushing lube inside himself until the stroke is too-easy and then quickly adding another because he loves the stretch best of all.
Blaine moans again and Kurt feels his cheeks flush but then he's adding a third, not because he particularly wants it but because he needs Blaine to see it. Three fingers in him and his other hand around his cock, all the lights on and Blaine at the other end of the bed. Kurt whines and his hips stutter, down onto his fingers and then up into his hand, sets up a rhythm and starts fucking himself. He curls his middle finger, brushes his prostate and whimpers out "Blaine," without meaning to.
"Kurt," Blaine whines back. "God Kurt, you should see this…" he trails off and pulls his fingers through his hair, eyes skittering up to meet Kurt's and then back down. "Kurt," he breathes out the other boy's name again and then once more, biting it off and sounding desperate even though, Kurt checks, he's still not touching himself. Just rocking slightly, searching for friction.
"Kurt, please, come," Blaine begs.
Kurt arches an eyebrow and tries not to show how desperately close to the edge he is, how fucking hard he's getting off on making Blaine beg, on the begging itself.
"Kurt," Blaine whines and he inches forward, thinking about grabbing at him with mouth and hands and seconds later fucking him hard into the mattress. "God, I wanna see it," he whimpers and his hand comes up now to his cock and squeezes it through his pants, bucks and Kurt's eyes go wide to see the tendons in his neck tighten as he bites back his own orgasm too obviously.
Hand around his cock tightening, the strokes getting rougher, unmeasured, the friction too much except where the precome makes his fingertips slide. The three fingers inside him, deep, buried as he rides them in circles and presses again and again at that one spot that makes him want to sob with it all.
"Blaine" he calls, grabbing back his attention, making him pause. Telling him in a broken off moan, "Watch me," and seeing Blaine's hand tighten in the sheets, the toes on one foot curling as he moans again.
Then Kurt presses his fingers deeper inside him, up snug against his prostate and rubbing, pulls once more up his cock and then cries out, Blaine's name and "Fuck," as his hands, legs, everything tightens and he rides high for a second and then feels his cock throb, balls tight and then spilling, a streak of come up his stomach and then dripping down over his fingers, between his palm and his dick, onto Blaine's sheets. And he keeps stroking himself through it in half-length, gentle movements, fingers inside him just stretching, keeping him full and perfect as he rocks one last time and then breathes out hard and rough and grins, blissfully happy in the seconds as he comes down and his eyes flutter open.
Blaine's staring and Kurt's cheeks are immediately hot and red. He refuses to feel embarrassed because that was amazing and Blaine looks more undone than ever but he can't stop from blushing as his fingers uncurl from his cock and his other hand slides slowly free, the slick loud sound of his fingers sliding out obscene in the stillness of the room.
His legs loosen and fall flat onto the mattress but he doesn't pull them in tight, leaving himself on display, stretched and wet and the shine of come still across his stomach, down his cock. He wants to say something, to dispel all the tension but he just mouths soundlessly. Stops, swallows and it's simply because his mouth is dry and his mind if hazy.
He tries again but Blaine is on him in seconds, pushing him back with both hands, rough and whining into his mouth when he finds it, off-centre and open and tongue lapping inside as he moans.
"Please," he begs, just like before, pulling back and leaning his forehead, hot and sweaty, into the crook of Kurt's neck, leans harder there so both his hands can slide down and pull open his pants, sliding them only far enough to pull his cock out and squeeze as he chokes on another begging whine. "Oh fuck, please, Kurt."
Kurt isn't even that sure what he's asking: permission or help or just to make it all end and he's still overwhelmed by how turned on Blaine is. In the fantasy, Blaine's either already gotten off or is just slowly making love to him at this point and it's mostly hazy because Kurt never really gets much further. Not desperate and begging and pressing forward to rut into the crease of Kurt's thigh.
Kurt laughs without thinking and slides a hand down, around Blaine's cock, stares as Blaine's head snaps back and he calls Kurt's name to the ceiling and then is up on his knees, between Kurt's legs and fucking hard into his palm.
"Jesus, Blaine," Kurt manages, all wonderment, staring down at his hand, little more than a tight fist for Blaine to work himself into, over and over, fucking hard and slick with precome and what's left of Kurt's own come and that's insanely hot. Kurt keeps his fist tight as he shifts himself up onto his knees in front of Blaine, forehead to forehead, breathing him in and meeting his gaze before their mouths press and they kiss fast and dirty as Kurt mumbles Blaine's name over and over and then suddenly Blaine's keening high and long and against Kurt's lips, swearing and somehow getting out, all in one breath, "You're fucking amazing," making Kurt preen and grin even as Blaine's cocks fucks forward one last time and Kurt feels the heat of Blaine's come painting across his stomach.
He starts stroking then because Blaine's hips are locked forward: little tight strokes like what he did to himself as he came, just enough to drag it out and slick the space between his fingers and Blaine's cock with moisture. Twists his wrist around the head and spreads it further, feeling it hot and wet under his fingers as Blaine keeps talking to him through it in his useless, broken mumbles.
Blaine's stomach heaves and he's breathing in deep, pushing Kurt's hand away with a shiver and then swaying there, up on his knees, Kurt's hands coming to rest on his hips, in the gap between his shirt and where his pants are still at mid-thigh and help him keep balance.
Kurt waits for him, watching his face, coloured red and slick with sweat, the hair at his temples curling and his eyes still squeezed closed as he remembers to breathe. He waits as the seconds drip past and then Blaine's eyes flicker open and his lips quirk up.
"Was that—" he breaks off and swallows and Kurt's about to berate him and start a post-orgasm tirade on sharing everything and forcing the words when Blaine cracks his jaw and shakes his head and tries again. "Was that good for you?"
Kurt stares at him. "Seriously?"
Blaine's grin is too broad, his eyes sparkling. "That was amazing?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just collapses onto his side and drags Kurt down with him and they both snuggle down into the sheets.
"You're exhausted?" Kurt asks, a little surprised at seeing Blaine's eyes flicker and his neck angle his head into the bed.
Blaine shrugs and then nods, eyes closed, and says, "That was intense." He yawns. "Nap?"
Kurt laughs under his breath and wonders when the adrenaline of performing will wear off and he'll want to sleep. Soon, he thinks. "I'm glad we did that," he mumbles feet helping Blaine's legs kick his pants off, a hand sliding into a pocket to find his boyfriend's phone and set the alarm.
Blaine just snuggles in and grabs at him, pulling him closer. "I'm just happy I have an excuse to put on a show for you next time."
Grinning, Kurt pulls a corner of the covers over them and then feels Blaine's leg across his and hears his breath evening out. He wants to ask and talk and discuss but Blaine, apparently, needs to sleep and Kurt can feel it just beginning to tug at him. So he smirks and imagines and starts building a new fantasy and is perfectly content to wait.