Spice - part two
There is no shortage of articles with tips on how to bring some excitement to the bedroom, from the vague: “Spend time together!” to the woefully misguided: “Nibble on his scrotum!” (Side note: Please don’t do that.) But how many offer guidance beyond a handful of tips and an alarming level of enthusiasm whilst bandying about words like “scrotum”? Well, dear readers, I am here to offer you my experience, expertise, and the weekly sacrifice of my dignity for your benefit. Up first: a little food, a lot fun and one willing partner.
“No.”
“Blaine, I’m not exactly crazy about it either, but it would really help Isabelle out and right now things are slow for me, and you’re between shows-”
“I’m auditioning-”
“-and the money wouldn’t hurt, and maybe it will be a tiny, little bit enjoyable?” Kurt props his chin on his hand, widens his eyes and pouts his lips.
“Stop that, you know I can’t-” Blaine takes a bite of food, deliberately not looking Kurt’s way. “It’s not that I mind trying new things, you know I don’t. I just don’t need the world to know about it.”
Kurt drops the pout, truthfully he doesn’t really either, but a few months of a regular featur was xciting and could potentially lead to him getting more of them, and they really could use the money.
“I know. But it’s not th whole orld.” Kurt spears an oyster then reaches across the table to slip it slowly between Blaine’s (skeptical, downturned but parted) lips. “Just those with internet access.” Blaine chews, swallows, and Kurt follows the shifting lines of his throat. “I’m sure there are some remote villages deep within an African jungle…” Blaine rolls his eyes, accepts another bite of oyster, this time with a hint of a smile. “I promise I won’t go into any nitty gritty details. No play-by-plays, no exhaustive treatises about your skills in bed-”
“Hey now, I never said that.” Blaine sips his wine, dark eyes watching Kurt over the rim. Kurt plucks a strawberry from the bowl in the middle of the table, dips it in the chocolate ganache and bites into it gently, gaze never leaving Blaine’s. “You are very hard to resist,” he says, and Kurt doesn’t miss the way his voice is getting lower, just a little gravelly.
“That’s intentional,” Kurt replies with a wink
Blaine leans back in his chair and sighs, “Okay what’s first on the list, then?”
Kurt focuses very hard on getting the last bits of the fruit from around the green stem and tries to answer in an offhand sort of way, “Food.”
One of the reasons Kurt loves Blaine, married Blaine likes laine, is that Blaine gets him. And Blaine is smart. And often willing to call Kurt out, though Kurt would never readily admit to that part. So he knows that Blaine is assessing the spread on the table: oysters, asparagus, red wine; strawberries with a of bowl dark chocolate ganache and one with fresh whipped cream, and is now probably staring at Kurt with narrowed eyes and a pressed-thin mouth.
“You’ve been trying to stealthily seduce me all evening with your sexy foods, Kurt. I see your little game.”
Kurt sips his wine, runs his tongue along his lip to catch a stray drop. “So…did it work?”
“Yes, dammit.&rdquo
Kurt tries not to grin in triumph too much, picks up the bowl of chocolate sauce and nods toward the bedroom down the hall, “Phase two?
“Well that explains the drop cloth on the bed, anyway,” Blaine says, lighting candles as Kurt sets the bowl down on the nightstand, then rubs his hands together briskly.
“Those are 600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, Blaine,” Kurt replies, waving off Blaine’ like they haven’t seen worse He pulls off of his sweater, starts working on the buttons of his shirt. Blaine catches the needle of the record player on a Billie Holiday album and it skips and pops as Kurt says, “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just do this before I lose my nerve.” He wriggles his shoulders, catches the shirt as it slips down his arms and drapes it over the chair in the corner. “Now strip.”
“So romantic,” Blaine mumbles, but unbuttons and removes his cardigan anyway.
“Sorry,” Kurt hops around on one foot, kicking off his jeans- peeling skinny jeans off is never graceful. “I’m sorry. Sweetheart, please remove your clothing so i can sensually slather chocolate all over your naked body.”
“So much better,” Blaine laughs, pushing the last of his clothing off and settling down on the bed, arms and legs pressed tightly to his body, jaw set.
Kurt shuffles across the bed, swings one leg over his hips and leans down to press a soft kiss to Blaine’s waiting lips. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Blaine lifts one hand to tangle in the back of Kurt’s hair and brings him down for a longer kiss.
“Mmm. Thank you for doing this.” Kurt smiles against his lips, flutters his eyes closed. He’s a little emotional that Blaine agreed to do this, that Blaine would do just about anything for him. He tries to not take it for granted.
Blaine just grins, tipping his head back and flinging his arms wide. “My body is your canvas.”
The ganache has cooled considerably, which seems less than ideal, but Kurt really has no plan of action at this point anyway. He swirls a finger through it, tilts his head and allows his eyes to roam Blaine’s skin. The pull of it over his neck and stretched taut on the sharp edge of his jaw. Down to the curve of bone, the hollow divot of his throat. Broad, flat planes on his chest, then dusky nipples, a smattering of coarse hair. He looks up to meet Blaine’s eyes; patient and waiting. Kurt’s cock gives a twitch where it’s resting on Blaine’s belly, and beneath him Kurt can feel Blaine’s stirring and swelling.
“Okay,” Kurt says, mostly to himself. He pulls the finger out, drips of dark chocolate landing on Blaine’s ribs, and he hisses and jolts
“Cold.”
“I know, sorry.” Kurt smears it across one nipple, crosses Blaine’s chest with a trail of sticky sweetness, covers the other. He considers the remnants still on his hand, shrugs and licks it, the sauce dark and rich and decadent; sucks his finger into his mouth, then pulls it out with pop Blaine swallows and bites down on his bottom lip, his cock now pressing more insistent along Kurt’s ass. Emboldened, Kurt tips forward, ducks his head and presses his tongue flat onto Blaine’s chest, licking up the chocolate with long strokes
He sits back again to swallow the thick sweet-bitter mouthful, Blaine’s chest marred with chocolate and saliva in swirls and streaks and matted into his chest hair. It’s messy and sticky and too sweet; Kurt considers dashing off the kitchen for a glass of milk to wash it down. But he swallows again, scoots down Blaine’s body and soldiers on instead.
Kurt reaches to dip two fingers in the bowl, the chocolate oozing down his wrist and arm and onto the paint-stained cloth covering the bed. He coats the underside of Blaine’s cock from the base to just under the head, then across the tip and down the other side. He grips Blaine’s thighs without thinking, a line chocolate covering the tender skin of the inside. Blaine starts to pant as Kurt pushes his leg wide, sucks a path along the skin there
Tiny licks up the veiny shaft of Blaine’s cock; sweet and hot and hard, then thick on his tongue and down his throat when he closes his mouth around it. He pulls off to swallow the chocolate down, then dips back to lick at the salty pre-come beading in the slit, trying to chase away the choking sweetness
It’s too much.
“You okay baby?” Blaine is flushed and straining, lifts up onto his elbows in concern.
Kurt swallows and swallows, nods and grits out, “Water?”
Blaine slips away and Kurt sits back, tries to not be too disappointed in himself. Maybe he should have gone for the whipped cream. Blaine returns, glass in hand and Kurt presses a grin against the glass after taking a long drink
“You are a mess.” Chocolate sauce across his chest and groin and stomach and still hard cock, the underside of one arm; obscenely delectable. “Did you…” Kurt touches his fingertips to Blaine’s abdomen, spreads some of it to his hip. “Add some?”
Blaine lifts a shoulder, a little sheepish. “I was into it.”
It takes some effort to get Blain out f it, slumped against the shower wall with heavy-lidded eyes while Kurt scrubs him with a loofah. “Enjoying yourself?” Kurt lathers the coarse hair at his chest, the smattering on his stomach, the thatch of it around his cock. He’s been hard the whole time and Kurt has barely touched him there, but when he does Blaine groans so loudly it echoes off the walls.
Kurt is beginning to suspect it isn’t the food Blaine likes, not exactly.
He drops the loofah and curls his hand around Blaine’s cock, soap running off his body and down the drain in a river of suds and chocolate syrup, steps in close to murmur, “You like when I take care of you.”
It’s not a question, because it is something he already knew. But this is different, this is Blaine laying himself open, bare and trusting Kurt implicitly and it thrills hot up his spine. He drops down, pins Blaine’s hips against the cool tile and takes him into his mouth again, tasting only skin and salt and Blaine this time.
Blaine yelps, hands scrabbling against the slippery tile, held captive by Kurt’s hands and Kurt’s mouth; he licks and sucks and bobs, then breathes deeply through his nose and takes Blaine down as deep as he can go.
“Ah, Kurt- fuck,” He hears Blaine’s head thunk against the tile, and the first taste of him coming is a soothing contrast to the overwhelming sweetness of the chocolate. Kurt pulls up to the tip, wraps his lips tight and swallows it all down until Blaine is spent, slipping down until he lands in a heap on the shower floor.
Kurt moves to brace himself on the tile over Blaine’s head; lolled forward to watch the quick movement of his hand on Kurt’s cock. He works Kurt over expertly, and as it turns out, Kurt rather likes taking care of Blaine, too. He’s tipping over the edge in no time, hips thrusting forward as he moans, stripes of come painting Blaine’s chest where the chocolate had before
They catch their breath and come down, folded together side by side, and Blaine drops his wet head to Kurt’s shoulder, says over the sound of the spray of the shower, “Success?”
- Food Play
Good idea or bad idea: This one is a toss up. One of us enjoyed it, one of us found it sticky and messy and not terribly appetizing. It’s worth experimenting with different foods to see what works; whipped cream seemed to go over better than chocolate ( yet still too sweet and messy) strawberries were best overall (sticky, but less so.) In the end I declare it a good idea, but proceed with caution and mind the sheets. I will say though that I personally preferred the clean-up afterwards. But maybe my husband is just particularly delicious.
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