Title: Instruction
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: face-fucking
Words: 1400
Summary: see warnings…basically.

"Jesus fucking Christ Blaine, just fuck my mouth." Kurt pulls off with all the sounds of a wet mouth pulling off a hard cock and he snaps at him.

And Blaine stares. At Kurt's bruised and stretched red lips. At the drip of spit down his chin. At the glaze of moisture over his eyes.

Kurt huffs when he takes too long.

"I can take all of you. Why won't you?"

Blaine groans and pulls him up the bed, hands in his hair and mouth on his, legs around his back and grinding up. They both come seconds later but Kurt clicks his tongue and rolls away before he'd usually do to go and clean up.

Blaine wonders.

Kurt ties his hands easily. Seductive, demure eyes that catch Blaine's and then blink down to the floor as Kurt wraps a tie around his wrists and tugs. Then a kiss and his hands are up, above his head. Higher, higher.


Kurt's hands play up him like an professional pianist, over ribs and them thumbs over nipples, up the underside of his arms. Over his head and when Kurt pulls back with one last reckless kiss, Blaine's eyes snap open because his hands are caught.

He leans and looks and there's a hook far above him, the tie of his wrists caught there and he's stretched out and tangled a little. Could escape but instead he looks to where Kurt's on his knees.

"Fuck—" a lick to the head of Blaine's cock, "My—" a quick suck and the barest hint of teeth, making Blaine gasp and tug hard and arch off the wall. "Mouth."

Blaine groans.

He wants to.

"Kurt…" he sobs and not five minutes ago they were downstairs talking to his parents.

"I want it."

Blaine's hips fuck forward of their own volition and he calls Kurt's name again as Kurt starts bobbing over his cock, his hands wrapped around the slightly stretched muscles of Blaine's calves.

Kurt stills, mouth a perfect, fuckable 'o' shape when Blaine looks and it makes his hips stutter forward and his eyes snap to the ceiling as he calls again, "Kurt…"

Kurt pulls away, licks his lips and clicks his tongue. "I know you want to," he says, voice low, sexy. "You never do because you don't want to hurt me and that is so sweet." He swallows. "But Jesus I want you to fuck my mouth like it's Nirvana."

Blaine chokes on a laugh because it's a ridiculous thing to say and he raises up on his toes, intent on pulling his wrists free. But Kurt pulls him down by the claves and when Blaine looks he's staring up with wide eyes, pleading, from behind the spit-slick curve of Blaine's flushed-red cock.

Kurt keeps eye contact as he licks up the underside. Tongue out and wet and hot and Blaine can see it. Then his mouth around the head of Blaine's cock and he sucks, fleetingly, tongue licking into the slit and a moan reverberating around the room.

Do it.

Kurt holds. Sits there on his knees, naked and, Blaine thinks, hard and with his mouth open and poised to give whatever Blaine wants to take.

Fuck me.

Blaine swallows and tries to move a hand to Kurt's hair, wanting, needing, contact. But he can't, just feels the material cut into his wrists, the pinprick of pins and needles starting to set in at the tips of his little fingers.

Kurt stares.


Then Blaine swallows again and prays to some unseen, unreal deity that this isn't a trap, but he knows it isn't a trap, this is Kurt and Kurt is asking…

He pulls back until his ass is pressed against the wood of the wall and then he slides forward, slow and smooth, into the heat of Kurt's mouth. He means to stop, he really does, but Kurt just stares up at him, distracting, angelic, perfect, and suddenly he's pushing forward even though everything is hot-wet-tight and he can feel Kurt's nose pressing into his skin, his chin into his balls.


He pulls back, presses to the wall and waits while Kurt hums and squirms on his knees and doesn't let the head of Blaine's cock escape. Then he slides forward, does it again and holds, watches Kurt's eyes, wishes he had a hand in his hair as his eyelids flutter and his pupils dilate and he swallows, swallows.

Out again and no pause, just forward and in and deep and bliss. Kurt moans and fists his own cock, getting off on this and that's amazing and perfect and—


Blaine fucks forward again, wrists aching now in contrast to the pleasure of his cock being held tight and deep in Kurt's throat. He wants to grab Kurt's head and fuck him properly and it thrills up him that maybe Kurt would, will, let him.

Works his hips, in and out of Kurt's mouth until he's mostly in and it's just the few inches out of the tightness of Kurt's throat and back again. Over and over. Fucking his mouth until he's breathless and Kurt's face is flushed red and there's spit dripping from his chin down his neck and his eyes are wet.

Blaine stutters back, forcibly removing his cock as he slams his ass back onto the cold wood behind him and groans. "Kurt…fuck…jesus…why?"

Kurt's hands are back on his calves, up the back of his thighs, scrabbling, and he's growling low in his throat with discontent. Hands up to his ass, fingers splaying and bruising in fingertip patterns and tugging forward until the head of Blaine's cock deflects and slides over Kurt's lips, tongue sliding out to lick.

"I told you to fuck my mouth," breathes against the flesh of Blaine's dick.

Blaine's hips ricochet and Kurt ends up with his nose and mouth buried in the coarse, dark hard at the base of Blaine's cock, breathing in and revelling before Blaine moves back to the wood of the wall with a whimper.

Kurt growls again and it's so foreign to Blaine who is so used to Kurt at school, innocent and angelic and not naked and on his knees. "Fuck my mouth like you own it. I want you to come down my throat." His voice is raw. Fucked raw already.

"Jesus. Kurt."

Kurt tugs his mouth back into that perfect shape around the head of Blaine's cock and sucks and Blaine's shifting forward, giving in, fucking forward and then back and then forward again and feeling Kurt moan and hum his approval, shifting on his knees for comfort as he stills and let's Blaine fuck his mouth.

Blaine fucks harder forward, almost challenging, getting as deep as he can, hitting the back of Kurt's throat rough and fast and then sliding further. Back and in and again while Kurt moans loud enough for both of them.

Blaine stares down, tugs his wrists and it frissons down, the pins and needles and too muchness. Fucks his hips forward and bottoms out and feels Kurt swallow and suck and hum with pleasure.

And then Blaine's coming, hard and thick and buried in Kurt's mouth, all the way, so Kurt swallows but doesn't need to as Blaine's cock pulses, stretching the muscles of Kurt's throat and coming in streaks deep in his mouth.

Kurt finally moves, pulling back and letting the last drip of come slide out across his tongue and over his bottom lip. And then pulls his mouth off, sucking on his tongue as his voice goes high pitched and he keens as Blaine stares down, watching Kurt's arm pump viciously as his hand works and he comes over his own fingers, mouth closing over his bottom lip as he sucks down the last dribbles of come.

Blaine wants to pull his hands free and collapse across the bed but he doesn't have the energy. "Jesus…god…fuck…"

Kurt falls back onto his haunches and grins as he keeps licking his lips. "You can call me Kurt, you know."

Blaine huffs and rests even more weight onto the binds at his wrists, collapsing a little and not sure at all of what to say. Just waits for Kurt to speak, to move…

Kurt eventually stands up, pulls Blaine's wrists free easily with his height and his strength and then kisses him, long and languorous and takes most of his weight and they stumble back towards the bed.

They're almost asleep, Blaine's hands still bound together, when Blaine mumbles, "Wow."

Doesn't expect a response but Kurt is just conscious enough to murmur: "Next time do as you're told."