WARNING: Kink, nothing hardcore. Porn and romantic power exchange, basically. First in a series, most likely.
So, it’s been a while since I’ve written any Klaine kink, and I’ve missed it. I have tons of concepts, but all of them are kind of lacking a uniting theme (other than, yannow, discovery and adventure in a smutty milieu), so I’ve decided to do them as a series of PWPs, and I’ll just tag them all as ‘Kinky Klaine PWP’ for anyone who wants to read them all.
This first one was inspired by the lovely AubreyLi, who requested a kinky sex farce. No need to twist my arm on that one, Aubrey—although this didn’t end up being very farcical. I’ll keep trying.
Dedication: To my followers. Thank you so, so much for the encouragement and silliness and insanity.
Gratitude: to Mademoiselle Jude-Araya, for FUCKING AWESOME BETA POWERS.
WARNING: NC-17 Kink. Do not read this if you are triggered by such things.
Kinky Klaine PWP #1: Origins
“Kurt.” Blaine blinked in the low light, grabbing Kurt’s hips. “Just—be quiet for a second, okay? I heard a car.”
And that was a problem, because if his parents were home early the chances were good that one or even both of them would come and say good-night to him. But this wasn’t really the best time for that to happen, because he and Kurt were both naked and his whole room smelled like sex and Kurt was riding him for the first time—because both of them had wanted to see if they liked it.
Blaine liked it plenty, but Kurt, apparently, loved it—Blaine had never heard him moan so loudly or seen him so abandoned, and it was wonderful and deeply hot and Kurt was so gorgeous—only now Blaine needed him to shut up for just a second, because… car.
“Just hold on a second, okay? Just for a second—”
“Blaine.” Kurt swiveled his hips. “You feel so fucking good—”
Voices. Those were definitely voices from outside. The problem was he couldn’t tell if the voices were his parents, having one of their customary arguments, or the Macklins from next door, having one of their customary arguments. “Kurt—”
“Blaine. Ohh—fuck me—”
Blaine did the only thing he could think of, the best spur-of-the-moment solution he could come up with. He grabbed Kurt hard and rolled him, pressing him flat and holding him still, one hand hard over his mouth. Kurt would forgive him, once he came down enough to understand.
He listened. Mostly what he heard was Kurt, making a low, muffled groaning noise. Then he heard Mrs. Macklin’s unmistakable strident screech, and he closed his eyes and sagged down onto Kurt, heaving a relieved sigh.
Kurt was… kind of wet. And… twitching. And he gasped desperately once Blaine took his hand off his mouth. Blaine blinked. “Uh, Kurt. Did you just… come?”
“God,” Kurt said in a soft, choked-off voice. He covered his face with his hands. “Blaine.” Kurt was breathing heavily and shuddering gently, and all at once Blaine dropped back into his body, back to where Kurt was under him and all around him and hot and wet and covered with come, teeth-tinglingly sexy, and it took him about three seconds to come himself because… because of all that, and because it was like a door had just swung open in his brain, one that he hadn’t even known was there.
But he knew now.
“Kurt,” he whispered, and Kurt groaned and clung to him, lax and open and so beautiful, and Blaine kissed his mouth and came.
He thought about it, relived it, brought it back and picked it over, combing through the memory relentlessly—but only when he was alone, because thinking about it… did things to him, things that required solitude.
He hadn’t considered the possibility that he’d wind up jerking off more after he and Kurt crossed that line together, after they started figuring out what they could do with each other—but it turned out there were a whole lot of possibilities he’d never considered, so that was that.
They probably needed to talk about it. The problem was, he couldn’t talk about it—not yet, not when he didn’t really know what to say, and not when the downside of talking about it was the possibility of Kurt flipping out on him, being disappointed in him, or just… being revolted. So no talking about it. Yet.
He didn’t have any solid idea what to do about any of it—until he did it. Until the next time they were in his room with the lights low, and his parents not expected home for hours. Until Kurt was riding his cock like he couldn’t get enough of it, moaning and glowing with sweat and so, so pale, except for his flushed-red lips and nipples and cock. Blaine stroked Kurt’s solid, furred thighs and worked his slow way up, up to Kurt’s hips, and squeezed—gently at first, then harder.
Kurt’s moans deepened, roughened. Blaine lifted his own hips, pushing hard; pulling Kurt down onto him, and Kurt’s eyelids fluttered and his back arched so that his ribs showed, the tempting cup of his navel stretched to an oval, and he was moaning at the ceiling, now, spreading his thighs wider and—fuck.
Blaine rolled him, rolled both of them over with one motion, a tangle of legs as he tried to stay inside Kurt without thrusting all the way in. He covered Kurt’s mouth with one hand and Kurt’s eyes were wide-blue-blameless above it, wide and surprised but not—not revolted. Hot. Wide and hot and wanting. “The last time I did this, you liked it,” Blaine murmured, his own voice so deep and scratchy it sounded unfamiliar to his ears. “You got off on it. Why?”
When he took his hand away Kurt’s hips started rolling, his thighs squeezing Blaine’s sides almost painfully tight. Blaine resisted the urge to sink into him fully, and Kurt made a soft, hurt noise. “You… uh, God, Blaine—”
Kurt closed his eyes, swallowing visibly. “It was… hard to breathe and you were crushing me and you were in me—all the way, really deep, and you pushed so hard and I… Blaine…”
The door in his mind had swung open again. “You liked that.”
Kurt made a noise that sounded half like a sob. “Yes. Yes. I… Blaine, please—”
Blaine put his hand over Kurt’s mouth, slowly. “Shh.” He used his weight, used his strength, used everything except his cock as he pushed Kurt deeper into the bed. “It’s okay.”
It was like filling up, like something from outside was seeping in and filling him—it was warm and wonderful, and he felt so strong and so desperately in love, like everything in him was for Kurt, because Kurt was everything. “Just shake your head if you don’t want this.”
Kurt didn’t shake his head, but his eyes opened and then they were together, so perfectly right together, so incredibly close that Blaine didn’t even hesitate to say the next words that lit up his brain. “Don’t come. Until I tell you to.”
Kurt’s eyelids fluttered—that hot look again, heavy and hazy and needful. Blaine moved in him, fucked him, gently and slowly; but not like before, not like at first, when he’d been so afraid of hurting Kurt—this was slow and deliberate, a tease, circling with his hips and moving first deep and then shallow, pulling back until Kurt shivered and clawed at his shoulders, then in until Kurt moaned against his palm, his head pushing back into the pillow.
“God—you feel so good, Kurt—you feel amazing.” His nerves felt skinned, drenched in pleasure so keen it seized the core of him, and he would have been utterly seduced if it hadn’t been for the warmth and strength running through him, letting him do what he needed to do—for Kurt. “I love fucking you—love—so much—” he couldn’t manage more, but he pressed harder over Kurt’s mouth and used his free hand to tilt Kurt’s hips further up, cupping and squeezing the silky-soft curve of Kurt’s ass while he twisted and rocked and teased and used his cock as ruthlessly as he knew how.
Kurt was red-faced and starry-eyed, his brows drawn together as if in the throes of deep suffering, but his entire body was shaking and he was making soft, helpless-sounding noises against the palm of Blaine’s hand, and the wet, hard tip of his cock grazed Blaine’s belly over and over as he writhed. He gasped sharply when Blaine pulled his hand away from his mouth, sucking in air like he’d never stop. Blaine lowered his head until their lips were no more than a centimeter apart, then let go of Kurt’s ass and reached between them, his hand around Kurt’s cock with a firm grip, firmer than he usually used, full strokes from root to tip. “You want to come, don’t you?”
There were waves—of sensation, of power, of pleasure. He let himself sink under them. “Kiss me, and… and then come when I do.”
Kurt’s mouth was hot and satiny-wet and hungry, and Blaine gave in to it at once and let his eyes drift closed, lazy, electric flickers of his tongue and everything melting around them. He used his free hand to pin one of Kurt’s wrists to the pillow above his head, then took a deep breath through his nose and started fucking Kurt as hard as he could, still slow—for now—but hard, pushing away every enticement to let go and slamming his hips against Kurt’s, making him take it.
Kurt cried out softly into his mouth, shuddering and choking and bucking under him, rocking into his fist with short, desperate arcs, his blunt nails delicious points of pain on Blaine’s shoulders. Blaine held out as long as he could, until there was a deep, terrible ache in his balls, until his spine and neck were one long, fused knot of tension, then sucked on Kurt’s tongue and stroked his cock and let everything go, coming with a shudder and a groan before Kurt grabbed his face and locked his legs around Blaine’s waist and came so hard Blaine felt it everywhere—Kurt’s cock pulsing wet in his hand and his ass throbbing, Kurt’s thundering heartbeat tangible in his breath and his kiss. Blaine felt him come for a long, long time, and lost track of himself for a while—they were tangled together, part of each other, sharing air and desire and pleasure and relief.
When he finally pulled back (just a little, just to breathe) Kurt was staring at him through barely-open eyes, flushed and sweaty with his mouth swollen, but somehow more perfectly angelic than Blaine had ever seen him, despite all that. Blaine swallowed. “Uh, Kurt…” He was starting to realize, belatedly, that as hazardous as it had seemed to talk to Kurt about all this, it would probably have been a far better idea than just—going for it. “Are you—”
“I’m amazing,” Kurt said in a soft, stunned voice, brushing Blaine’s sweaty hair back from his forehead. “You’re amazing.” He tugged Blaine down into a sweet, slow kiss. “That was amazing.” Another kiss, and something that sounded almost like a giggle. “We’re amazing.”
Blaine exhaled shakily, leaning his forehead against Kurt’s. “Oh, thank God.”
Kurt stretched under him, arching luxuriously, ending with a shiver. “Mmm… ‘m so…” he trailed off, yawning hugely. “—sleepy, though.”
Blaine rolled off him and gathered him close, wrapping him up and settling their bodies together. “It’s okay—we’ve got some time. You can nap, if you want—I’ll keep watch, and wake you if they come home early.”
Kurt’s downy cheek snuggled against the inside of Blaine’s arm, his eyelids fluttering. “Huh. Not much fun for you, though.”
Blaine ducked his head and stole one more sleepy-sweet kiss. “Oh, you might be surprised what’s fun for me,” he whispered against Kurt’s lips. “I certainly was.”
Kurt’s chuckle somehow managed to sound tickled and filthily appreciative at the same time. “Obviously.”
“Good night, Kurt. I love you.”
Blaine settled his arms more firmly around Kurt, and watched him sleep.
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