Prompt Post #7
Welcome to the Glee Angst Meme again! You know how these things work. You can come here and prompt your most angsty prompts, and write stories filling those angsty prompts to let our characters suffer.
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Please remember to place any Trigger Warnings in the subject line of your ( Read more... )
Blaine laughed. 'This isn't the torture part, Kurt. This is,' Blaine said and removed his hands from Kurt's body, so the only parts of them that were touching were their legs.
'What? Noooo,' Kurt whined loudly. 'Don't stoooop.' Blaine just smiled and leaned down to pres soft teasing kisses to the inside of Kurt's thighs, while his hands caressed his torso, finding and teasing a nipple. He pointedly avoided paying attention to the part of Kurt that needed it the most, and Kurt whimpered in desperation. 'Please.'
Blaine pretended to not to hear him and continued what he was doing, taking far too much pleasure in Kurt's desperate writhing, until finally, without stopping to warn Kurt, he took pity on him and, by way of licking a long wet stripe up the length of Kurt's shaft, he stopped teasing. He hadn't really planned on doing it, but it suddenly felt like the thing to do, and as Blaine took Kurt fully into his mouth, it seemed that Kurt most definitely agreed with him. His hands were gripping the sheets tightly and his speech had been reduced to incoherent babbling sounds.
Blaine worked him over to the best of his ability, making a mental note of what got the strongest reactions and trying to recreate those movements. Admittedly it was a bit clumsy, and once or twice Blaine had to take a break to process the thought that holy crap, his boyfriend's dick was in his mouth, how did that happen? Kurt had no objections, however, and before long, his breathing turned sharper and his hand found its way to Blaine's shoulder, patting wildly.
'Blaine, Blaine... I'm gonna... soon,' he managed to get out.
'Yeah?' came Blaine's reply, his own vocabulary a little limited as well, before he sank back down, redoubling his final efforts. He pulled away just as Kurt's orgasm began to wash over him, and Blaine stroked him through it, watching fascinated as Kurt's whole body shuddered and he came with a long groan, spilling all over his stomach.
'That was... wow,' Kurt said once he had come down a little bit.
'Yeah,' Blaine agreed, collapsing next to Kurt on the bed.
'I was about to say thank you, but that sounds a little weird,' Kurt said, chuckling a little. 'But... thank you?'
Blaine laughed and pecked Kurt on the lips. 'Pleasure was all mine, darling.'
'Was it though? I mean, you didn't...' Kurt blushed a little, and Blaine caught on.
'Oh. Well, no,' Blaine admitted. 'But it's fine.'
'Are you sure? It doesn't seem right.' Kurt frowned. 'I want to make you feel good too.'
'I know, me too, but give me time? I don't know how long, but eventually, yes. If you still want. Besides,' Blaine said and smiled, feeling like his problems with his body was maybe not the best topic for post-orgasm pillow talk. 'I just got a bunch of new masturbation material, so I'm good for a while.'
*
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You know that you're not the only kid your age who has issues with their body. Half the kids in your class does in one way or another, and the other half probably just isn't broadcasting it. Sara, for one, has mentioned on more than one occasion that she thought she could stand to lose a bit of weight, and you see her sometimes pressing her hands against her ears in a futile effort to make them stick out less.
It's more than that though - you're not just looking to drop a few pounds. It's that when you look in the mirror, you don't identify at all with what you see. The person who looks out at you from behind lost and sad eyes feels like a costume that you're forced to wear - but at the same time you're painfully aware that's it's not, and the thought makes you want to scream. This is partly by choice, of course, because in order to preserve your sanity, you spent years living in your head as much as you could. The real you is buried and shapeless, and your heart aches as you wonder whether you're ever going to see him, or if you will always feel this dichotomy between what's in your heart and mind and what the mirror shows you.
Except--
You take a step back as the word appears in your mind in large, bold, capitalized letters, and the thought is so intense that you accidentally say it out loud.
'No.'
You won't let that happen. You refuse to let yourself be a victim. If this is really your lot in life, then you are going to fight to be happy, dammit. You're not going to give up now just because the road seems long, and you're going to find a way to live with what you've got until you can start to change it. Like the song says - you're a fighter, and you've had enough. A sudden fire and willpower courses through, making you shiver, and when you look up into the stranger's face, you almost startle, because for a second there that was you looking back. The real you.
You take a step closer to the mirror then, nose nearly touching the glass, and you try to look for it again. It starts with the eyes. It takes a little while - you lose track of how long - but then you blink and there, those are your steely and determined eyes.
And actually, come to think of it, you don't dislike your eyes. You used to be so stuck on how your appearance is so similar to your mother's, while Cooper got your father's looks, but actually you like your own hazel eyes better than Cooper's pale blue ones. And there's your nose. Nothing wrong with your nose. Or your jawline. You cock your head and narrow your eyes a little. And maybe there's nothing wrong with your mouth after all. Heartened, you continue your search, picking out body part after body part, ranging from your arms (which are actually kind of hairy for a supposed girl, and maybe if you started working out more, you could get a bit of definition to them) to your bellybutton (because a bellybutton is a bellybutton and hey, it all counts).
Finally you take a few steps back to look at the whole and oh, there he is, and it's not just a brief flash this time. He stays, second after second, minute after minute, until you're sure that he's sticking around. You're still naked, and there's still a lot you don't like to look at, but the rest of it. That's you. The boy who has been trapped inside for so long.
Blaine.
*
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Later that day Blaine goes to his father and asks him to take him shopping for clothes. Blaine needs new clothes, because baggy jeans and t-shirts just aren't him. Those were choices born out of panic in the face of dresses, skirts, skintight jeans and cute tops. Blaine is something else entirely. He isn't yet sure what, but he's itching to find out. After they leave the mall with five bags full of new clothes, Blaine's father asks if he would like to get his first proper male haircut, and Blaine nods eagerly, so they stop by a barber shop on the way home and ask if they happen to have an opening.
'My son needs a haircut,' Blaine's father says.
*
When Cooper visits for Easter, Blaine pulls him aside and asks him to help find a binder that will fit. It will be a while still before he can wear it in public, of course, but even just being able to wear it around the house sometimes - to look at his reflection, flat-chested and right - is going to feel amazing. They use Cooper's credit card, and Blaine promises to pay him back, but his brother just waves a dismissive hand and says to consider it a gift - a replacement for all those Christmases and birthdays where Cooper mistakenly got Blaine something girly and useless to him. And in an unusual display of unprovoked affection, Cooper pulls Blaine close, squeezes his shoulder.
'You'll be okay,' he promises.
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