Prompted by istytehcrawk and bordering-on-the-avant-guard on tumblr
Summary: Rimming. PWP. And rimming :D
Kurt snickers against Blaine’s neck, hands sneaking under the hem of Blaine’s shirt.
“Kurt-” Blaine trips, then straightens them both, disengaging Kurt’s wandering hands. “You’re going to kill us.” He stumbles again.
“I think you’re a little drunk,” He follows Blaine up the stairs obediently, keeping close, forehead between Blaine’s shoulder blades.
“I think you’re the pot.” Blaine laughs, then squeaks when Kurt snakes his hands back under his shirt, gripping his sides as they climbed the last set of stairs. Kurt’s hands are big, encompassing, and Blaine’s body feels so small. He fights the flutter of his eyes; it’s something he loves, feeling almost helpless, like he knows Kurt could take him anyway he wants, moving him rough-tender and using.
“I don’t smoke pot.”
“No,” Blaine sighs, shoulders shifting Kurt’s speeding breath hot between them, “I meant, pot, kettle you know-”
“Oh god, finally.” Off the stairs at last, Kurt manhandles Blaine around and crowds him against the wall in their hallway.
“Oh-” Blaine manages faintly, tilting his head a little, stretching his neck into Kurt’s lips and bites. “K-Kurt,” He pushes Kurt away with shaking hands, “Inside please.”
“Ugh, shut up.” Kurt moans against his neck, but still moves away. Blaine’s neck feels startling cold where Kurt’s lips had been.
Kurt doesn’t stop crowding him as Blaine struggles to get the keys in the lock of their door, almost falling through once it opens because Kurt is plastered all along his back, hands already pulling his shirt up.
Blaine is shirtless by the time he’s swung the door closed.
“Take off your shoes.” Kurt breathes into his ear, fingers twisting his nipples deliciously.
“What?” Blaine has to laugh a bit, but still obeys.
“Fuck,” Kurt has his hips in hand, grinding the long line of his erection against Blaine. He moves one hand, thumb skirting the skin of his exposed back. Blaine’s wearing low slung jeans, the ones Kurt picked for him, and he knows that bent, shaking hands undoing his shoes, his lower back is exposed in a way that drives Kurt crazy.
“Thank you, god,” As soon as his shoes are off, Kurt pulls him up roughly by the shoulders then pushes him chest forward against the back of the door. Blaine gasps when Kurt bites the muscled curve of his shoulder.
“Pants down,” Kurt orders, and Blaine complies as quickly as he can. He can feel the moisture from his heavy breathing, trapped against the wood of the door. His forehead presses hard into it as he struggles to pull them down. He can hear the thunk of Kurt’s knees hitting the floor, demanding hands pulling his pants off on leg at a time.
“God Blaine, your ass.” Kurt runs his hands up the insides of his legs, resting them with each cheek cradled in their palms. When he digs his thumbs in its with impatience and admiration, the slight dig of his nails soothed by the sucking kisses Kurt is laying over each. He nibbles and sucks and licks his way slowly from the crease where his ass meets his thighs, up and up and up until his mouth can’t push the fabric of his boxer-briefs up any further. “I can’t even tell you how gorgeous you are. Thank you.”
“Thank you?” Blaine squirms, arching toward Kurt’s hands. He feels strung out and incredibly exposed, presenting himself shamelessly.
“God yes, I love eating you out, you taste so good.”
“Kurt, oh god you can’t say things like that.”
“Spread.” Kurt licks softly at his sacrum before sucking a hard kiss that leaves Blaine whimpering, all the nerves of his body rolling electric from that epicenter of pleasure. “You’re so sensitive here.” He can hear the awe, the warmth in Kurt’s voice. Blaine bends at the waist, pressing himself back against Kurt’s rough mouth, and spreads his legs even wider.
This, he thinks, is what he loves, when Kurt knows he’s so desperate his body moves before his mind can catch up. He never waits when Blaine is so helpless, doesn’t tease; he goes for it, starting hard and fast the way he knows Blaine needs it. Kurt’s tongue is so hot, Blaine can feel the heat even against his pleasure-pumping body that feels radiant, scorched.
“You like that?” Kurt’s lips are still so close to him, words minute vibrating against his skin.
“Yes, yes,” Blaine’s fingers scrabble against the door, “Don’t stop, don’t stop please.” He’s breathless, voice pitched high and demanding. He moans long when Kurt brings his mouth back, presses his tongue against his aching hole.
“Want me inside?” Kurt’s thumbs slip through the wet of his own saliva, massage deliciously around his rim. Blaine’s body never needs more than a little encouragement to begin opening. Kurt uses his palms and strong fingers to hold his cheeks as wide as possible, burying his face in Blaine’s crack. He uses his tongue softly now, licking gently and with careful intent around his sensitive rim, just into where his nerves hunger and flare bliss straight through to his so hard cock. Kurt licks and sucks and whispers filthy loving things against him. His nose nudges up the crevice of his ass back to his sacrum, digging his teeth in while he slips a thumb in, gliding through the spit carefully. “Oh my god Blaine, you love this don’t you, need my mouth fucking your ass? Need it so bad. Want my tongue fucking into you, don’t you?”
“Yesyesyes,” Blaine is shaking, struggling to hold himself up, dizzy with how good it feels.
“Can you come like this, B?” Kurt slips his thumb out. Blaine knows it’s because doens’t want to hurt him where there’s not enough lubrication to really move inside the way he needs.
“Your tongue, please.” Blaine begs.
“You’re so dirty, desperate boy... I, god-” Kurt licks down, one slow, wet stripe, then moves his mouth over his hole again, and Blaine cries out, loud and high, when he fucks his tongue into him. And it’s so good, too good when Kurt just goes for it, sliding his tongue in and out hard and fast. The apartment is filled with the sounds of his breathing and the slurping of Kurt’s shameless mouth, both of them whimpering and moaning.
“So, just- please, please, yes, fu-uck” Heat rolls through him, warmth a harbinger of coming pleasure and the build of his orgasm. He’s leaking and throbbing untouched, cock thick hanging helpless in the air until everything gathers tight, tight and he comes, streaking spunk against the door and down to the floor. Kurt keeps his tongue inside him, moving it in tiny increments around the fluttering and pulsing, milking the searing pleasure and his incredible orgasm until he’s shaking so hard he can’t stand anymore. He crumples slowly, panting and trembling. Kurt’s behind him, holding him, hands running all over, skirting his stomach and arms and thighs, grinding his cock hard against Blaine’s still wet crack, stuttering high moans into Blaine’s neck. It’s only moments before he comes; Blaine shudders, relishes the warm ooze of Kurt’s come, arches his ass against the spasms of Kurt’s dick; wants to feel the stick of it against his skin.
“Oh my god, thank you.” He leans, boneless into Kurt; knows Kurt will always hold him up, support the slump of his body.
“Blaine,” Kurt whispers into the hollow behind his ear, “Blaine.” He can hear the reverence, the sheer magnitude of love and care in his voice. He works his hand between them, uses one finger to smear his come into Blaine, using the tip to work just inside his rim. It’s incredible and a little too much which he loves, overstimulated and anticipating what he knows comes next, when Kurt recovers enough to fuck him. And he’ll beg for it, beg to be fucked so hard it hurts. Blaine turns his head, kisses Kurt deep and lush. He feels the love where it unfurled, the sway of emotion that’s so much he feels incandescent with it. He never has to say it in the afterglow, neither of them do, because their bodies move helpless with need and care and devotion no matter which way they fuck or make love.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Blaine breaks from Kurt’s lips to murmur into the hush of aftermath. Kurt smiles, eyes glittering bright.
“More?” HIs hands grip Blaine’s hips, fingers digging against his hipbones.
“Bed.” He laughs, stands shaky and weak like a colt, stumbles against Kurt when he climbs up too. They hold hands, weaving, giggling into the anticipation of more, and more, and always, more.