Prompt Post #7
PART SEVEN IS CLOSED
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Pairing - [Spoilers if any] - kinks or [FILL], in reply to a prompt
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( Prompting begins here. )
"T! That tickles!"
"Sorry, Babe," Tina said. She stopped teasing then and licked up Brittany's hot slit, tasting her juices. She was lying on top of Brittany, upside down, andshe squeezed her hands between Brittany and the mattress to squeeze her girlfriend's ass. She dove at Brittany's center with her tongue, freezing for a second when she felt Brittany suck at her clit.
Tina moaned into Brittany's hot snatch as Brittany licked, sucked and fingered Tina's pussy. Tina pulled one of her hands to slide two fingers into Brittany's hot, wet center. She crooked her fingers as she licked patterns across Brittany's clit. She found Brittany's g-spot and pressed against it. Brittany moaned into Tina's pussy and Tina moaned herself as the vibrations did amazing things to her body.
Tina sucked hard against Brittany's clit and Brittany moaned as she came, her juices drenching Tina's face and fingers, her walls clenching. Tina lifted her head slightly and saw the Brittany's toes were clenched. That sight always made her grin.
Brittany took a second to recover, then slid a third finger into Tina's pussy, fucking Tina on her fungers as she lapped at Tina's club. Within moments, Tina too was cumming, her juices soaking into Brittany's hair as they dribbled down her face.
Tina turned around and kissed Brittany, they two of them embracing as they tasted themselves on one another's faces.
*end*
Next word: Dripping
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When Mike walked into the room, he paused, staring at Blaine. The former-Warbler smirked, beckoning his still-dripping lover over.
Mike dropped the towel that had hardly begun to do its job to the floor and crossed the room quickly and climbed into his bed. He dove directly for Blaine’s leaking cock, taking it in his mouth. He hummed softly at the taste, making Blaine groan. As he suckled, Mike began to bob his head, pressing his tongue hard against the shaft.
Blaine was panting already, and he shivered each time Mike’s damp hair brushed his hips. Mike was grinding himself against the bed, precum likely staining the blankets, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened, so it was only a momentary thought for either teen.
Just as Blaine began to babble that he was close and wouldn’t last, Mike’s nimble fingers crept around and stroked from Blaine’s asshole, along the perineum, to his balls. He squeezed them gently, and Blaine nearly shot off the bed with the force of his orgasm.
Mike’s other hand held Blaine as still as possible while he swallowed everything given to him and ground himself faster and harder until he came on his covers.
They lay on the bed for a moment, panting and smiling, until Mike finally sat up and said cheerfully, “So, Mom wants you to come to Dim Sum tonight.”
~!~
Next word: steal
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She was a Freshman in college and had decided, for just this year, she would take the chance to explore. Experiment. And if that meant calling up Noah Puckerman to ask about drug connections, then so be it. As it was, that had happened weeks ago. Rachel was getting used to smoking marijuana on the weekends, now. But enough about Noah and drugs, Rachel had more important things to do right then.
Quinn was sitting at the head of the bed she’d fallen on, laughing hysterically. They had been so mad to find out they were roommates. Both had threatened to leave the school if not reassigned. But after the mandatory three week wait, they found they were okay with the arrangement. And Quinn had even gotten into the smoking after Noah convinced her to take a hit by shotgun the first weekend. Tonight, though, it was just the two of them.
Rachel actually really liked shotgunning. It was nice, almost like a kiss. Looking up at her blonde friend, she grinned. “Quiiiiny?” she cooed. “Could I have another hit, please?”
Quinn snorted, something she only did high, and fumbled for the bowl. “Needs lit, Shorty.” Sighing, Rachel looked around for the lighter. Cheering, she made her way clumsily across the room to it. She passed it over and Quinn lit it, taking a hit and holding it out for Rachel.
“Can you shotgun it?” Quinn sighed, letting the smoke out. “Pleeease?”
“Fine.” Quinn took another hit and held it in, gesturing Rachel over. Smiling brightly, she crawled over, leaning close with her mouth open. Quinn leaned forward, tilting her head so their lips crossed and were just touching. Quinn breathed out while Rachel breathed in, then they moved back. When Rachel let it go, the smoke swirled around their heads for a moment, before Rachel leaned in again and caught Quinn’s lips with hers.
College was made for experimenting, right?
~!~
Next word: knead
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Wes mewled as he stretched out on the bed. He'd had a long day and he was worn out. He was glad that he and David shared a room so that they could cuddle. And maybe do some other things. He stripped off his clothes and stretched out further, his long black tail flicking side to side.
“You seem so stressed,” David commented as he sat down next to Wes. “Want me to rub your back?”
“Mmm, yes,” Wes said.
David reached over and started to rub his boyfriend's back. He started at Wes' shoulders, kneading the stiff flesh. Wes purred as David massaged him, his tail swishing lazily. David worked Wes' back over for a while, kneading out the kinks. Wes mimicked his motions on instinct, kneading his fingertips into the bedspread.
David worked his way down to Wes' rump and started massaging Wes' ass in the way that always got him hot and bothered. David closed one hand around the base of Wes' tail and squeezed firmly before stroking down the length of it. Wes' purring became mixed with those mewling little moans that always made the darker boy go crazy with lust. David ran a finger down Wes' asscrack, noticing the wetness pooling at the rim. Dating a half-Pilgrim boy definitely had it's perks, and the self-lubricating asshole was one of them.
“Do you mind?” David asked.
“No. Please, touch me there,” Wes said, instinctively pushing his ass back towards David's hand. David circled his fingertip around the rim before pressing in slowly. Wes moaned as David's fingertip pressed against the internal sphincter that was the entrance to his birth canal. It only loosened slightly when Wes was in Heat, still it made Wes feel so good when David touched it. David pushed his finger in further, finding Wes' prostate and pressing it. Wes moaned loudly in response. David worked in a second finger slowly, then crooked them slightly to press against Wes' prostate. Wes' moans got louder as he pushed his ass back against David's hand, then dropped his hips to start humping the bedspread. David worked in a third finger and started thrusting them in and out as Wes found friction against his comforter.
“Does that feel good baby?” David asked
“Yes,” Wes said. “More, David, please, fuck me on your fingers!”
David grinned and did just that, thrusting in and out of Wes several more times before Wes came with a shout, cum splattering on the comforter. David pulled his hand away and Wes gave in to the Pilgrim post-orgasm instinct of rolling over twice. After he rolled over he laid on his back and looked up at David.
“Do you want me to suck you off?” Wes asked.
“Maybe later,” David said. “I just thought you could use some help relaxing, you get so stressed out at school.”
“Could you be any more perfect?” Wes asked, grabbing David and pulling him down to cuddle.
*end*
Next word: flutter
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~!~
Next word: cough
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His stomach quivered as Santana drew a knife carefully along his skin. He felt the surface tear slightly when he jerked accidentally. She let out a soft tut and scolded him. He tried to relax as she continued with the knife-play before moving on to the candle wax, dripping it on his nipples and making him hiss.
Santana chuckled as she trailed the hot liquid down his body, letting it pool on his crotch and harden to his hairs. When she started picking out the wax, Artie nearly screamed into the gag, shaking his head and flexing his fingers. She stopped, stroking his leg in apology.
“If you shaved, that wouldn’t be such a problem,” she murmured, her breath touching him just before her mouth wrapped around his cock. Artie groaned into the belt, wishing he could thrust his hips, even a little. She sucked hard before pulling back to lick at him like a candy. From the way she was moving, he was sure she was rubbing herself off on his leg, even though he couldn’t feel that.
Her breathing became more ragged and she swallowed him down again, moaning. Artie was struggling to breathe through his nose, feeling the pleasure build low in his belly, working up to an explosion. Santana moaned lowly around him, her throat working his cock, as she came and Artie let go, sighing happily.
~!~
Next word: sterile
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“That’s not possible,” Quinn says, arms wrapped around her belly.
“Right. Whatever,” Puck says. “I want my money back. I need more dip.”
“Fine,” she says. She pulls her wallet from her purse, handing Puck a ten dollar bill.
Puck shoves the money in his back pocket. “I hope whoever it is can handle ice, ‘cause you’re one frigid bitch.”
Quinn shoves the wallet back into place, blinking back tears. Then, unbidden, the memory of that night comes back to her, the night she lost everything.
***
“Quinny, what’s wrong?” he said, brushing her hair back from her forehead.
“Nothing. It’s nothing Daddy. Finn’s just being stupid,” Quinn said.
Quinn’s dad pulled her more firmly into his lap. “Nonsense. My girl doesn’t ever have to put up with that. Not from a boy. What did he do?”
“He didn’t do anything. He’s just…” her voice trailed off as she shivered.
“He’s trying to force you, isn’t he?” When Quinn didn’t respond, he tugged her by her hair, hard. “Isn’t he?”
Quinn felt tears forming on her lashes. She tried to blink them back. “No. No, Daddy. Finn’s a nice boy. He never tries anything with me.” She felt one tear slip free, streak down her cheek. “Really.”
“And why would he,” he said, pinching her side. “The amount of weight you’ve put on lately, instead of Homecoming Queen, you’ll get the title of Pork Princess. Do you really want to be representing yourself that way? Representing me that way?”
Quinn sighed, said, “No, Daddy. Of course-“
“Of course what?” he asked, dragging his hand up the back of her skirt.
“I’m sorry,” she said, tears a steady flow now. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“Sorry. You’re sorry all right.” He grabbed his drink, finished it in one swallow. “On the floor, hands and knees.”
His hands-hands that once tucked her in at night-at that moment flipped her skirt up out of the way, tore her panties off, roughly. “Your sister… You know, when she was younger than you we had to chase the boys away. When she was your age, she and Gregg were already engaged.”
Quinn heard the noise of a zipper behind her. She started sobbing, choking in breaths, spitting them bake out.
“But not little Quinny,” he said, pulling her thighs apart roughly. “Not you. No, you’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough. You can’t even get that fool Finn Hudson interested in you. Guess I’ll have to show you how it works myself.” With that, he thrust in hard.
***
And Quinn feels nothing. nothing. at. all.
***
Next word: conjugal
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When Matt called, Mike left Tina and college in the middle of their second semester, dropping everything to go to Pennsylvania and meet up. It didn’t take long for another “accident” to happen. Only this time, they were more careful. And that night they finally made the distinction between friends and more. It was incredible.
The “accidents” kept happening, and eventually Matt got caught. But by then, they were practically married. Mike managed to keep from being convicted, but Matt was sentenced to two years on some of the pettier of their “accidents”.
Mike visited every weekend, bringing Matt what he could. Cigarettes (for currency) and food (because prison meals were terrible), mostly. His visits were also conjugal in nature, allowing them moments of privacy and love.
Mike snuck a lighter in that way. And then a knife. And the night Matt used them to break out, he was waiting and they made for the boarder, hoping to reach Canada and then catch a plane to Europe.
They had always wanted to travel.
~!~
Next word: heavy
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If there is one thing that Santana hates more than Rachel Berry, it's the curse of mediocrity. Or maybe, part of the reason she hates Rachel so damn much is the immense feelings of inadequacy, of normality, that pint-sized, man-handed Hobbit manages to inspire in her. With people like Quinn, like Brittany and Finn and Puck, Santana feels like she belongs - she feels normal, unexceptional, which is fine when it's a common thread between them: they are all losers, and will remain losers, destined to live out their days in anonymity.
But Rachel. Rachel was born to shine, and next to her, Santana has never felt so dull.
Sometimes the weight of Santana's hatred feels tangible, like a shroud, heavy and encompassing. Sometimes it makes Santana herself feel heavy, like she's dragging herself down, and taking those around her along for the ride. On those days Santana can't bring herself to look in Brittany's beautiful, innocent eyes, to dance along with Mike's new choreography, or laugh at whatever snide comment Kurt's made.
On those days Santana goes straight home. She kneels on the floor of her bathroom and forces her finger down her throat until she's vomiting wretchedly, hair plastered to her forehead and tears mingling with the sweat stinging her eyes. She stays there until her stomach is as empty as she feels, leaving nothing but the tang of bile in her mouth to remind her that tomorrow, maybe she wont feel quite so heavy.
----
Next word: plastic
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The dust…
The dust gets everywhere, in their laundry and their rooms, their computers, hell even in their food.
Kurt doesn’t blame Carole for not wanting to stick around through this. He only wishes he would’ve accompanied her when she invited him along.
Especially since his dad had to take off for a conference out of town. With his dad and Carole gone, the only other person left is-
“Hey, Kurt,” Finn says sitting in a folding chair, kicking his feet up on the step-ladder the construction crew had left. He grabs a sandwich and goes to take a big bite of it.
“Are you insane,” Kurt asks, waving his hands to gesture at the chaos surrounding them. “Do you really think it’s healthy to eat anything in a room surrounded by this much dust?” He takes a second to glance at Finn’s sandwich. That just ends up adding more fuel to the flames already building up inside him. “Especially that,” he says, pointing at the offending sandwich.
“What’s wrong with meatball sandwiches?” Finn asks. “I mean, I know they’re usually kinda gross, but I added extra cheese and bacon to mine, so-“
Kurt makes an exasperated noise, cutting him off. “We’ll talk about your wish for an early deathbed at another time. What we’re talking about now is how you could be stupid enough to eat in a room so full of dust it’s raining from the rafters!”
The thing is-
The thing is, no matter how much the dust bothers Kurt-how much it would bother any sensible person-for some reason, Finn seems absolutely oblivious to its presence.
Finn looks up at the ceiling. “Oh, that’s what that was,” he says, trying to brush dust off his hair. He ends up with it smeared all down his cheek.
“You!” Kurt says, taking a moist towelette from his pocket. “Do I have to actually bathe you?” he asks, exasperated.
But he looks up at just the wrong moment. Finn’s frozen in his seat. Kurt’s about to open his mouth, say, “I didn’t mean it that way, you imbecile,” when he sees a blush spread across Finn’s face. Finn’s eyes drop down-down to his lap. Where there’s some serious movement going on.
Kurt feels himself blush scarlet, accidently drops the towelette on the ground. He bends over to pick it up, but Finn goes for it at exactly the same moment.
They bump heads of course, like every cliché in the book. They check each other over, make sure everything’s all right. Finn’s hand ends up on Kurt’s face somehow, looking him over so carefully. It’s the most natural thing in the world for Kurt to lean in-for Finn to reach just a little farther. And suddenly they’re kissing. Kurt doesn’t even think about what a cliché that is.
The kiss-it’s not what Kurt expected. It’s just as soft as Kurt expected. Just as good as Kurt expected. It’s just-when Kurt imagined the two of them kissing for the first time, he didn’t really plan on all this dust.
“I-“ Finn says.
Kurt doesn’t let him get any more out than that. Before Finn can open his big fat mouth anymore and ruin this somehow, Kurt climbs on Finn’s lap and starts kissing him again.
They’re light, searching kisses with just a little bit of wetness. Kurt flicks his tongue out just to check if Brittany was right, but it really doesn’t taste like anybody’s armpit.
Kurt feels himself slipping a little. He scoots forward and there-right there-is Finn Hudson’s cock. It takes Kurt’s breath away, makes him almost nervous suddenly. But Finn’s not nervous at all. Finn’s grunting and moaning and-“Oh my god! Did you just come?”
Finn blushes bright red. “uh…”
Kurt-Kurt just made Finn Hudson come. In his pants. Like a fourteen-year-old. “Yeah?” he asks-breath coming heavy now.
Kurt thrusts against Finn’s thigh, and huh, somehow Finn coming in his pants made Kurt hard. Really really hard.
Finn doesn’t really say anything for a minute, just sits there looking embarrassed, but after Kurt starts rutting against him in short thrusts, Finn finally looks up. He looks right at Kurt, and there’s such wonder in his eyes. “I-“ Finn says, licks his lips-“you are just…so-“ he makes a helpless motion.
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“You’re so perfect,” Finn says, hands landing on Kurt’s hips, guiding Kurt’s movements on his thigh.
“I-I am?” Kurt asks, blush growing on his face.
“You really really are,” Finn says, and then he’s kissing Kurt again.
And Kurt’s holding onto the plastic wall coverings for dear life-thrusting against Finn’s thigh there, there, there until he comes.
They lay there, Finn contorted into an awkward ‘c’ shape until Kurt comes down enough to remember where he is.
As soon as he comes back to himself, Kurt scrambles to get off, hoping the spinal damage won’t be permanent if he just moves fast enough. And then the chair collapses.
Kurt rushes over to Finn, concerned. But Finn throws an arm up in the air, shouts out, “I’m okay.”
“Well, this wasn’t exactly how I expected to lose my virginity,” Kurt says, helping Finn to his feet.
“Wait, did it suck?” Finn asks, sounding a little hurt.
“No,” Kurt says. Then he draws Finn down for a kiss, soft and sweet. “No, it was perfect. I just didn’t expect it to be such a cliché.”
“But it can’t be a cliché, Kurt,” Finn says, stopping to give Kurt another kiss. “There was too much dust.”
And Kurt doesn’t want to ask. It’s just-that darned curiosity gets the better of him. “Finn, I didn’t think you even knew the dust existed. I mean, you were practically showering in it every day.”
Finn throws an arm around Kurt’s shoulders, pulls the plastic aside and tugs him out of the room. “Of course I knew the dust existed. Being covered in dust was part of my master plan.”
“Really?” Kurt says, a little skeptical.
“Yeah,” Finn says, smiling down at him. “I knew that if I was covered in dust often enough you would have to crack eventually. And offer to bathe me.” Finn’s face turns bright red again and he looks away from Kurt.
“So this bathing thing,” Kurt says. “How would you feel if we did a little of that right now?”
Finn practically gets whiplash he turns his head so fast. “Really?” he asks.
“Sure, why not,” Kurt says, steering him toward the master bath. “Since it’s part of your master plan and all.”
“Uh-“ Finn says, and then his eyes get a calculating look in them. “My plan…it had other parts.”
“Oh, did it really?” Kurt asks, bemused.
“Oh, yeah,” Finn says, feigning nonchalance. “One of them was you dressing up in-uh-the Princess Leia costume?”
“Was it really?” Kurt asks.
“Uh huh,” Finn says, nodding his head hopefully.
“Not in a thousand years, Finn Hudson,” Kurt says, smiling to himself. He figures there’s a possibility he has Kurt wrapped around his finger. And that-that’s right where he wants him.
+++
next prompt: habit
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"It's just," Finn explained, jumping up onto the table, "I trust you, dude. The team's PT doesn't know what the fuck he's doing."
"Cool," Puck nodded, motioning for Finn to lay down and uncovering the guy's injured thigh. As he began to KNEAD the muscle, being careful to warm it up first before really getting in there and relieving the knots that formed very week without fail, he noticed Finn's crotch twitch a little under the sheet.
It happened to everyone at some point, so Puck decided to ignore Finn's arousal until the guy moaned and shifted away. "Sorry, man," Finn apologized, his face flushing bright red. "Sorry."
"Hey," Puck said quietly, meeting Finn's eyes. "Hey, it's alright. It'll cost you twenty extra bucks, though." Puck grinned, so that Finn could take it as a joke if he wanted to, but the guy just swallowed nervously and nodded before lying back down, his hard-on obvious now against the sheet.
Puck poured some more massage oil into his hand and worked his way up from Finn's thigh to his groin, taking his cock in one hand an pumping gently to get started. Finn gasped, his eyes closed and his mouth open as Puck began to work him in earnest. Puck wasn't all that into guys, not really, but he couldn't help getting a little turned on by the way his oldest friend gasped and shuddered in response to his hand.
It wasn't long before Finn groaned low and came all over Puck's hand and the sheet covering him, whispering a quick, "Thanks, Noah."
Puck smiled and wiped his hands on one of his towel, saying, "Anytime, dude. And hey, this one's on the house."
Finn laughed and nodded, the bright pink in his cheeks catching the light, and he said, "So how about my leg?"
Next word: Scarf
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