Freaky (1/1)
Title: Freaky
Author: Snarky
Pairing: Blaine/Finn (Flaine? Blinn? Lol.)
Warning: NC-17 for shameless frottage
Genre: One-shot, Fluffrottage.
Spoilers: All aired episode for safety.
Length: 1,285 (I know, it was supposed to be under 500 words, I couldn’t stop!)
Prompt: Blaine teachers Finn to dance.
For the ever sexy preferthemoss who makes my mind melt constantly. And gives me prompts that make me giggle. I know this was supposed to be under 500 words, but obviously I can’t be left alone with a keyboard. ;] Hope you approve, bb.
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Kurt was about four seconds from a complete, and total meltdown. And he wasn’t talking the kind of meltdown that comes from running out of moisturizer or finding a run in his favourite pair of hose. No, he was about to end his step brother’s life.
“Sorry, dude! Sorry!”
Finn seriously just stomped on his right foot. Again. He was pondering going out to acquire a pair of steel toed boots, because COME ON!
“I’m just finding my groove,” Finn’s hands were on Kurt’s hips, but his eyes kept flying to the dark haired boy lounging on the bed.
Which was obviously NOT the best place for them to be, because-
CRUNCH!
And suddenly Kurt was hopping around the room, clutching one socked foot in his hand. And looking for all the world like he was going to break out his sequined stilettos and stab Finn through the heart.
Finn looked chagrined when Kurt stormed up the stairs and out the room, tossing out, “I’m going to get a latte.” Caffeine solved all the world’s problems.
“Er… Maybe it’s the music? Show tunes aren’t for everyone…” Blaine’s attempt at being the dapper gentlemen was hindered by the tense line of his mouth; he was obviously trying not to burst into laughter.
He groaned as he threw himself on the bed beside the other boy, “I’m going to keep making an ass of myself. I feel like a wind up toy, I can’t move my hips without feeling like a moron.”
Blaine just grinned as he ran a hand through his curls, having abandoned his usual gelled do after Kurt yelled at him for taking up the vanity for too long. His moisturizing routine was more important than his friend’s hair, dammit.
“Hey, let’s just give it a try while he cools off, hm? I’ve got some music I think you might be able to find a rhythm to.”
Finn managed to completely miss the entirely too mischievous look on the other boy’s face. Although, he did notice that his jeans hugged him in all the right places. It’s not like he was checking him out or anything. But he’d only ever seen the boy in his Dalton’s uniform. He looked a lot less stuffy, and a lot more hippie at the moment.
“Ok, against my better judgment, I’m not putting shoes on. Play nice,” Blaine removed Kurt’s ipod from the dock, and replaced it with his own. Finn tried not to notice how his bare toes curled into the plush carpeting.
And then, the cacophony of noise wrenched through the air and Finn wasn’t noticing anything. He was just wondering where Dapper Blaine went. Because that gentlemen would NEVER listen to this.
“Uhm…” Finn was pretty sure he was making that “Duh-hur” face that Rachel always made fun of him for.
Blaine grinned widely, “I know, it’s a really horrible song. And I don’t mean the lyrics. I mean it’s just BAD. But it’s got a beat that makes you want to move, doesn’t it?”
And then Blaine was pressed against him from chest to thighs, as much as he could being almost a head shorter than Finn, and he was moving.
"Let’s get freaky now,
Let’s get fucking freaky now.
Let’s get freaky now,
Let’s get fucking freaky now. "
For a moment all he could do was stand there, mouth agape. The body against his was warm and firm, and a contrast to any girl he’d ever held.
“Stop thinking, just move,” Blaine’s voice was hot, heavy, and sensual in his ear.
And for once in his life, he just let go. His hands found their way to Blaine’s sides, and before he knew it, they were grinding in time with the music. And there was obnoxious screaming from the ipod dock, and he didn’t give a shit. The skin under his hands was scorchingly hot, hard and soft at the same time, like steel wrapped in velvet.
This felt a lot less like dancing, and a lot more like sex. When he felt the shorter boy’s hands slide up his shirt, and press against his chest, he knew he should be more alarmed than he was. But the press of another body against his was just more than his teenaged hormones could comprehend.
Hands were running over his toned chest, over the small of his back, were grabbing his hips and thrusting in time with the music. If he’d possessed the presence of mind, he’d realize he was moving. And not in the retarded llama sort of way that he usually did, all left hooves and flailing arms. He was genuinely moving with a rhythm, a movement, a beat.
When he felt the thick line of the other boy’s hardness against his thigh, he did the only thing his brain could think of at that moment. He bent down and licked a wide path across his neck, nipping at his earlobe, as he pulled the other boy up and against his own erection.
He felt the sharp gasp more than heard it, before wet lips were latched to his neck like a lamprey and there was suction. Wicked, sinful, delightful suction. He groaned into Blaine’s hair, inhaling the scent that was solely him; musky, sharp, spicy, Blaine.
Finn tangled his hands in Blaine’s hair, pulling the boy off his neck. He was being a bit sharp, and knew it. But by the absolutely wrecked moan that came from those swollen lips, he figured Blaine was enjoying himself. And then they were kissing. It was more of a power struggle than a kiss; lips bruising lips, teeth clashing, tongues wrestling for dominance, breaths exchanged between stuttering moans and groans.
They were still thrusting against each other, and in all their movements they’d aligned themselves perfectly. Granted, Finn was holding Blaine up to make up for the height difference. He was tempted to move them to the bed, but sex on his step-bro’s bed just sounded dirty. Especially since it was his step-bro’s best friend that he was about to make cum his pants.
Heavy hands grabbed his ass through his jeans, and Blaine was writhing, whimpering, and whining against his lips, “Fuck. Close. Come with me.” God, his voice was deep and husky. So laced with sex that all Finn could do was thrust himself harder against the other boy.
And how the fuck was he supposed to deny that request?
Sharp teeth bit down on his bottom lip, sucking hard. And the curly haired boy was keening deep in his throat. He could feel the frantic jerking and twitching of the other boy’s cock against his own as he came, and that was all it took to push him over the edge, hands grabbing thick fists of curly, wonderful hair.
The heavy panting against his chest was easing, and he unhanded the boy’s hair, burying his face against the slightly slick neck of his newfound dance instructor.
“Holy… I never want to hear you say you can’t move your hips again.”
Finn was chuckling against Blaine’s neck.
The sound of the front door slamming closed made them jump, but they didn’t let go.
“What is that atrocious noise coming from my room? That better be the sound of Finn preparing an alter to honor my gracious patience, and not something you’re trying to pass off as music,” Kurt was hollering from the landing of the stairs.
Blaine looked up at him, pupils blown wide, and lips kiss bruised, “I am so glad we did not do this on his bed.”
And Finn was set off, laughing into soft curls. Explanations were going to be fun.