Fic: Ties That Bind
Title: Ties That Bind
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5500
Spoilers: very vague spoiler spec for future episodes
Warnings: masturbation, phone sex, riding, facefucking and a corset
Summary: Blaine had mixed feelings about the idea of the photographs. Those feelings fell by the wayside the moment he saw one in particular. Now he can't get the image of Kurt out of his head.
Thanks to Keri for looking this over. <3
Lucy Enfield had taken over one hundred portraits of Kurt since he met her at the laundromat around the corner from his Bushwick apartment in a moment of what she refers to as “serendipity”. Now Kurt is her muse and Blaine has been reaping the benefits. Photography students take a lot of photographs. They are never without their cameras, it would seem, and Kurt and Lucy are often attached at the hip.
And so Blaine has enough images of Kurt to plaster the walls of his room. He settles for his computer, phone and locker. Kurt has never said much about these photo sessions, only to mention that he is always flattered by Lucy's praise, but often embarrassed. He mostly sends the images attached to emails without much commentary, and Blaine saves them with flourish and adds them to his rapidly growing folder which he has entitled “beautiful”.
And so he is confused when Kurt calls him one night and brings up the portraits, sounding nervous and hesitant.
“So... Lucy wants me to pose for an assignment she's working on for her Fine Art Photography class.”
Blaine laughs, despite the odd tone of Kurt's voice. “And when does she not want you to pose for her assignments? If she could get away with making you a still life, she would.”
When Kurt laughs with him it sounds terribly forced. “Well, she did try to make me into a landscape that one time.”
“That's one of my favourites,” Blaine says.
“Yeah,” Kurt answers vaguely.
“Is something wrong, Kurt?”
“No. No, I just... Well, I wanted to ask what you thought about it. If it would be okay with you or if it would make you uncomfortable.”
Blaine is confused. Kurt sounds as though he is asking for his permission, and they don't have that sort of relationship. He wonders if he did something to make Kurt think Lucy's attentions upset him in any way. “Kurt, you know I love Lucy's photos of you. That one you sent me last week is the background on my phone and computer, and I printed it to hang in my locker. I don't understand...”
“These would be a bit different, Blaine. I would be, um... well. Nude.”
“Oh.”
Kurt makes a quiet humming sound into the phone that Blaine barely registers. He should have guessed, he supposes. What else could Kurt have possibly meant? And he doesn't know how he feels about it, because wow. Nude. All of Kurt's body and skin and everything on display for other people who aren't Blaine to see. If it were only Lucy, well, Blaine guesses he would be okay with that, even though he's pretty sure she's at least half in love with Kurt. But other people - professors and students and everyone who attends the school's photography exhibitions will see Kurt. His Kurt. The one nobody but Blaine has ever seen.
God, Blaine feels like the biggest ass because he wants to say no. He wants to say you can't. But it's not his body and he has no right. They don't have that relationship and he is glad for it.
“I take it by your silence that you don't want me to do it,” Kurt says.
“What? No. I mean... it's up to you, Kurt. It's your body. It's not my decision.”
“But if it was your body, if it was your decision, you would say no.”
“If it was me? I probably would. But it's not me.”
Kurt sighs heavily and there is another long moment of silence that follows. “Would you think less of me?”
“What? No, of course not. Don't be silly.”
“She showed me sketches of what she wants to do. They were tasteful and everything. And you won't be able to even tell it's me. Well, you will, but no one else. My face won't be in them.”
“Okay. It's fine. I can tell you want to. Just promise me one thing?”
“Yeah?”
“Send me all of them.”
Kurt chuckles. “Of course.” He sounds lighter, no longer nervous. Blaine wishes he felt the same way.
~*~
They don't bring it up again. Blaine finds himself wondering if today is the day more times than he can count, but he never knows when, exactly, Kurt bares all for Lucy's camera.
It's six weeks later when an email arrives in his inbox with the title: !!!. He's confused at first, until he opens the first attachment. He was about to shut his laptop and head out to meet Tina and Sugar for coffee. Instead he sits down on his bed and stares.
He stares so long that the girls begin to text him but he hardly notices the buzzing of his phone.
There are fifteen attachments in total. Bits of Kurt's body at close range: the broad expanse of his back, the curve and hollow of his hip, the V of his bent elbow rising towards his head where his large, long-fingered hand is splayed against the contrast of his dark hair. These are all monochrome - a wash of pale blues. There are others which Blaine cannot absorb with quite the same ease.
Kurt's shoulders are wide and his waist trim, tapering in and back out with the swell of his hips. Blaine knows that he is self-conscious about them, an old wound cut by Sue Sylvester who once called them womanly and pear-shaped, but Blaine loves that part of him, loves all parts of him. Especially where his hips curve out around his perfect, round-cheeked ass. Blaine studies these photographs of Kurt for several long moments, catching every slight change in pose, every minute difference in the direction and diffusion of the light.
When he opens the thirteenth attachment, his breath catches in his throat. His shoulders look even wider, his waist even more trim. And his hips. And, God, his ass.
The corset is laced up the back; something pale and old fashioned and not what Blaine has ever considered sexy. Except that it is. So sexy. The curve of Kurt's back swathed in the lace and silky fabric, his waist shaped by the boning and the tightness of the laces. His ass swells out from beneath, lifted slightly off the platform on which he is seated, making its round, pale globes the focus of the image. It literally is the focus, Blaine discovers when he looks even more closely, the depth of field shallow and tapering off towards the outer edges. It is grainy and black and white and looks ancient. It is the single most gorgeous thing that Blaine has ever seen.
He responds to Kurt's email with a single word: WOW.
~*~
Kurt never mentions the photos again. They talk on the phone and Skype and text and send each other hand written love letters. Sometimes Blaine wonders if Kurt is waiting for him to bring it up, or if he is embarrassed, or if he thinks that Blaine's meagre response meant that he disapproved or that he didn't like the photographs. It is quite the opposite of course; Blaine can't stop thinking about the image of Kurt in that corset. He looks at it whenever he has the chance. It haunts his dreams, waking him up in the dark of the night, leaving him breathless and hard and aching. He has thought about that one image every time he has touched himself since he'd first set eyes on it, and it has become his greatest fantasy to see Kurt wearing the corset in the flesh. To wind his hands around his hips and slide his tongue over the cheeks of his ass. To tighten the laces himself and just look. Look. Study ever dip and plane and curve until he drives himself crazy with need. And then they would fuck. He wants that, too. Needs it like air.
And Blaine is a generally intelligent individual with a good amount of common sense, so he is well aware that if he wants this fantasy to become reality, he needs to bring up the photographs.
As it turns out, Blaine doesn't have to. Kurt brings it up for him on the phone one night, a week before Easter break and Blaine's first trip to New York to stay at Kurt's apartment since they'd officially gotten back together.
There is a lot of noise in the background when Blaine answers the call. It diminishes as Kurt greets him until he eventually hears far-off laughter and what sounds like the rustle of his curtains being pulled shut. “I get home to find that Rachel has decided to have a little get together without telling me. A get together she calls it. More like a party.” Kurt sighs in exasperation and Blaine can make out the telltale signs of him heaving himself onto his bed. “I mingled for as long as I could, I swear.”
Blaine laughs and makes a cooing noise. “Poor baby, forced to be sociable in his own home.”
“I know, right? Anyway, I've been wanting to call and talk to you, so it's the perfect reason to avoid Rachel's friends.”
“I'm sure Rachel has lovely friends,” Blaine says and Kurt giggles into the phone. This laughter is strange, and Blaine begins to wonder how long this party has been going on and how long Kurt had been present before he decided to slip away and call.
“Uh-huh. Anyway, Mr. I Love Everyone, I did call you for a reason.”
“And what was that, other than that you love and miss me and wanted to hear my voice?”
Kurt giggles again and it sounds almost slurred. Blaine's suspicions grow and he smiles to himself. It seems his boyfriend may have let loose a little this evening, and that is something Blaine is extremely glad he is being given the chance to be privy to.
“Yes, yes, there is always that. But, um... well, there was something specific.” And that clinches it for Blaine, because Kurt definitely slurred on specific. “Um... remember those pictures I sent to you?”
Blaine closes his eyes and exhales softly. He'd wanted to prepare for this, to decide exactly what he should say, precisely the right moment to bring the issue up. But Kurt has done it for him in all of his innocent drunkenness. “I, um...” Very suave, he thinks. You are smooth, Blaine.
“Yes, um. Well, it's just, you didn't really say anything, Blaine, and I've been worrying, well, wondering...” Kurt heaves a sigh and laughs again.
“Kurt, are you drunk?”
“A little. Don't change the subject, mister.”
“I'm not, it's just - I liked the pictures, Kurt.” Blaine swallows. Understatement of the century. The grainy black and white image of Kurt in the corset flashes through his mind and he has to lie back on his bed. He closes his eyes and rubs a hand across his forehead. He wants to tell Kurt everything: how he's been using that image as masturbation fodder for weeks and how he wants Kurt to wear the corset for him and how he has never been so turned on his is life as he was when he first opened that file on his computer.
“So you're not mad at me? You don't think I'm... I dunno, bad or something for posing like... like that.”
Kurt's voice has changed; he sounds sort of melancholy, his tipsy giggles gone. Blaine feels a horrible sense of guilt wash over him. He should have said more. He should have been open about the whole thing from the very beginning.
“God, Kurt, no. I... I didn't say anything because I - because I've been so, God, so damn turned on, okay? I felt dirty telling you I've been -”
“Blaine Anderson, have you been jerking off to those pictures of me?” Kurt gasps and laughs a little, the sound of relief.
“Yes. Yes, okay. Fuck. You have no idea, Kurt. That corset... your shoulders... your ass... I can't even tell you how many times I've jerked off to that picture alone. You're just... You're so fucking sexy, Kurt.” Blaine takes a deep breath and waits for a response.
When Kurt breaks the silence he sounds closer, his breath heavy and full of something, something Blaine would very much like to investigate when Kurt is a whole lot nearer. “Mmm. Well, Mr. Anderson, it would seem that you are in luck, because I still have that corset and would be more than willing to model it for you in person.”
And Blaine whimpers. He actually whimpers. Kurt chuckles low and deep. “You want that badly, don't you?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to wear it for you when you come visit me, Blaine?”
“Yes. God, yes. Please.”
“Are you touching yourself, Blaine?” Kurt asks, a strange mixture of amusement and lust in his low voice.
“No.” Blaine's answer is quiet, whisper-soft. He wants to. But he and Kurt, even though they've been apart for months now, they haven't tried this: phone sex or Skype sex, or any other sort of long distance-type of sex. He's kind of wanted to, but when they spoke about it Kurt seemed embarrassed and hesitant, so he didn't push.
He doesn't need to push now. “You want to, don't you? I can hear it in your voice. I know that voice, Blaine. It's okay, you know. Take your cock out, baby. Do it for me.”
Blaine swallows and pauses for half a second before he's scrambling to pull down his pants and underwear in one go. He gets them down to mid-thigh and wraps his fingers around his cock. And he waits. Kurt is running this show. Blaine wants to be told what to do.
“You did it, didn't you?”
“Uh-huh.”
Kurt hums happily and Blaine can hear fabric rustling on his end. He wonders if Kurt is doing the same. “What do you want, Blaine? What do you think about when you picture me in that corset? What do you want to happen when you're here in my bed and I have it in hand?”
Blaine swallows and opens his mouth to answer, but Kurt is continuing, his voice almost teasing now. Blaine squeezes his cock and slides his hand slowly up and back down and gasps into the phone.
“That's it, baby. You don't have to tell me. How about I guess? Hmm....” Blaine takes his hand off his dick for a moment and licks his palm, not wanting to waste a second rummaging through his drawer for lube. He lets out a soft moan when he replaces his now slick hand and Kurt breathes heavily into the phone. “Yeah,” he says, “that's it. Do you want to put it on me? Slip it around my body and slide the laces through the eyelets and tighten them. Yes, pull them so, so tight that I can barely breathe, and then bend me over and fuck me. Is that what you want, Blaine?”
Blaine moans more loudly this time, his hips arching up off the bed, looking for more, searching for more than just the hand that is pumping his cock. But all he has is his hand right now, stuck in Ohio like he is with Kurt hours away, an achingly hot voice on the other side of a phone call.
“Or no, maybe not. You want to see me like I was in that picture. You want me like that, huh? Yeah. I'll bet you do.”
“Kurt -” Blaine lets out another loud moan and quickens his pace. He's so close. Everything feels desperate and tight and so sensitive.
“You want me to straddle you. Yeah, that's perfect. Backwards. And I'll ride you like that. Is that what you want, baby? To watch your cock fucking my ass and me wearing that corset?”
And that's when Blaine loses it. His hips are jerking up off the bed and his hand slips half off his dick, come splattering on his t-shirt and chin and all over his bed. He drops the phone somewhere in the midst of his orgasm, and when he's calmed down enough to remember what he was just doing, let alone who he is, he wipes off his hand on the already soiled blanket and searches around under his head.
“Kurt?”
“Mmm, yes. I'm still here, lover. How are you?”
“I, um... good. Wonderful. Kinda sleepy.”
Kurt laughs again, throaty and sensual. “Mmhmm. I know how you get. I won't be offended.”
Blaine hums and smiles, though he knows Kurt can't see him. “Love you.”
“Love you, too. I'll let you get some sleep. And Blaine?”
“Mmm?”
“I'll have it waiting. The corset. And me. For when you arrive.”
“Nnngh,” Blaine says, articulate as always.
Kurt giggles a little and makes a kissing noise into the phone. “Goodnight, my love. Sweet dreams.”
~*~
Sent at 7:38am
From Kurt <3
On a scale of 0 to 10, how freaked out are you about last night?
Sent at 7:38am
From Kurt <3
And I would like to remind you that I was drunk. Probably more than I let on. Blame Rachel and her evil booze/swampwater concoction.
Sent at 7:40am
From Blaine xo
Is 0 not at all freaked out and 10 running for the hills?
Sent at 7:41am
From Kurt <3
Oh god...
Sent at 7:43am
From Blaine xo
ZERO, Kurt. Relax. Love you! One more week!!! ;)
~*~
They ride the subway to Kurt's apartment. It's a weekday and getting close to rush hour, so the cars are packed with bodies. Kurt and Blaine are forced to stand, fronts pressed together with Blaine's small suitcase tucked between their legs. Kurt has become a subway riding expert over the past nine months; he leans from side to side as the train sways and trundles on, not even needing the bar that Blaine is clutching for dear life. Blaine nearly stumbles anyway, when the train takes an unexpected turn, and Kurt wraps a steadying hand around his waist and gives him a sweet smile.
Blaine is so happy to be near Kurt after so long away that he's content to just stay quiet and watch his expressions: his disgust at the man snoring with his mouth wide open, drool dripping onto his chin; his amusement at the conversation two girls are having about how hot Neil Patrick Harris and his husband are; his fond, loving gaze as he looks back at Blaine, his beautiful eyes blinking down lazily. He reaches out a hand and clasps one of Blaine's, pulling it off of the metal bar and bringing it to rest on his waist. With a mischievous quirk of his lips, he slides Blaine's hand up under his jacket and shirt, which is untucked - in and of itself an oddity.
Blaine feels the warm, smooth skin of Kurt's waist at first, but as Kurt coaxes his hand further up his fingers bring up against it - the silky panels of fabric, the firm, immovable strips of boning. The corset.
He's wearing the corset.
The rest of the train ride seems to take forever, and once they've disembarked and headed for the sunlight outside of the station, they still have a ten minute walk to Kurt's apartment.
It's the longest ten minutes of Blaine's life.
Rachel and Santana are nowhere to be seen when Kurt pulls Blaine in through the door. Blaine glances around as Kurt locks up behind him, but doesn't really take anything in. The apartment has changed since last he was here. He knows this because Kurt had filled him in on every little improvement as he'd made them. Blaine promises himself that he will notice. Later. But right now...
Kurt is next to him again, so close that he can feel the heat of his body through the layers of his clothes - jacket, sweater, shirt, corset. Blaine shudders in remembrance and grabs for Kurt, pulling him against his body with more ferociousness than he had intended. They kiss like they're devouring each other, all spit and tongues and teeth, yanking at each others' clothes and stumbling as they both attempt to toe off their shoes at the same time.
They leave their shoes, jackets and sweaters in a heap in the middle of the entryway and push and pull their way to Kurt's curtained-off bedroom space, shirts and undershirts being torn off and flung away as the grapple with each other, mouths moving from swollen lips to marked up necks to newly bared shoulders.
Blaine splays his hands on Kurt's hips while Kurt works to open the fly of Blaine's jeans, swatting the buckle of the belt aside with impatience. The corset is stiff above Blaine's fingers, the sumptuous fabric soft and sensual. He lets his fingertips wander up to brush just the tiniest bit against it, fluttering under a strip of boning to swipe at Kurt's skin underneath. He sucks in a breath just as his jeans are pushed to the floor and Kurt stands on them and taps Blaine's hip in a silent order to step out of them.
The rest of the short stumble to Kurt's bed is a blur, Blaine's entire focus on Kurt's corset-covered chest and the way he can see one small, pink nipple poke out from over the top as Kurt shifts around him, tugging on his body and pulling, pushing until Blaine is flat on his back on top of Kurt's soft bed, spread out with Kurt bent down between his legs, pulling off his last article of clothing and tossing it into a corner.
Kurt stands up straight and stares down at Blaine for a long moment, an eyebrow arched and his lips plump and wet and abused. He runs his tongue across them and takes the corner of the bottom one between his teeth. Blaine holds in a groan.
“You stay exactly there,” Kurt says, his voice husky. “And I'll be right back.” And he walks away and out of the room before Blaine has the chance to ask him what he means and where he is going and most importantly, when he will be back.
He's tempted to touch himself as he lies there waiting for what feels like an age, but he doesn't. This is Kurt's show to run and Blaine tells himself he can wait. He has to wait. But god, it's so tempting as his mind flits through images of Kurt in the corset, from grainy black and white to Blaine's own fantasies to Kurt just now, exposed skin marked by Blaine's hands and mouth, tight jeans and white silk and lace, dishevelled hair and a sultry expression. His hand twitches at his side and he slides it across Kurt's duvet to finger at the curve of his own naked hip, waiting. Waiting.
He hears the slap of Kurt's feet on the hard floor as he comes back to the room wearing a deep red satin robe, his bare legs and feet peeking out beneath. He slips the curtains shut, cutting them off from the rest of the apartment, and makes his way to the bed.
“Hello,” he very nearly purrs and Blaine feels his stomach clench with want. As Kurt bends down over him the neck of his robe slips, his shoulder peeking out, and Blaine can just make out the top edge of the corset, shiny and pale against Kurt's rosy skin. He seems flushed, his eyes glassy with lust as he stares down into Blaine's. “I guess I can get rid of this now,” he says, and unties the robe and lets it fall down around him on the bed. He stays there next to Blaine for a moment, Blaine's eyes raking over every inch of him he can see, then Kurt smirks and pushes at the robe, the silky fabric slithering to the floor, its absence revealing his long, curved, achingly hard cock. Blaine wets his lips as Kurt chuckles above him.
“Now, how was this going to go again?” he asks, his voice teasing. Blaine looks up from Kurt's cock and Kurt smiles at him.
“Um... we need lube and -”
“Way ahead of you, sailor.” Kurt opens his right palm to reveal a small bottle of lube and a foil condom wrapper. “Why don't you lie back and relax?” He pushes Blaine down fully onto his back and tears open the condom, sliding it over Blaine's cock and then squirts lube over his fingers.
“Kurt, what about - ?”
“Shh. Relax and enjoy. This is your fantasy after all.”
Blaine lets out a gasp and his eyes flutter shut as Kurt's lithe fingers begin to slowly pump his cock, spreading lube over the head and down the shaft. Blaine opens his eyes when the torturously gentle glide disappears and takes Kurt's body heat with it.
“I think I remember the pose,” Kurt is saying, and he gets on his knees on the bed, turning around with his back to Blaine. He lifts one leg and slides it over Blaine's hips, shifting in position so that he's straddling his body, the laces of the corset pulled tight and the ends dangling down his spine. Blaine's eyes follow where they point, all the way down to Kurt's round ass, its warmth resting against his belly. He lets out a longing groan as Kurt cants his hips to one side, curving his spine and tilting one shoulder higher than the other, his hands forward and resting on his own thighs. His waist is impossibly tiny, his hips rounded, his ass, fuck. Blaine can't help himself any longer. He reaches out with both hands to cup the muscular globes in his palms, petting and squeezing as his breath begins to pick up. He bites his lip, Kurt lifting just slightly so Blaine's hands can slide underneath, his thumbs meeting at the crack and pulling it apart only slightly. Kurt leans forward and Blaine gasps and groans and curses.
He is stretched, the skin around his hole wet, shining with lube. “God you, fuck. You're -”
“What did you think I was up to for so long, darling?”
Blaine whimpers as Kurt shuffles forward, his hands falling uselessly to his sides. Kurt reaches back with one hand and holds himself open for Blaine to see and grasps the shaft of Blaine's aching cock with the other, sliding slowly down until the head meets the soft slickness of skin and lube. Blaine shudders and whines as Kurt begins to lower himself onto his cock, slipping it into his body inch by inch until he is sitting flush on Blaine's hips. He leans forward just slightly and rocks up a fraction and back down, letting out a low moan. And Blaine is mesmerized, watching as his cock slides out and back in between the round perfection of Kurt's pale ass, the light of the lamp shining off the flat planes of silky fabric stretched across his broad back.
He reaches forward to slip his hands down the expanse of corset, his fingers moving over the boning and twisting in the lace, and then slipping down to bite into the flesh of Kurt's hips, moving up and down with the rocking off his body.
“You like that?” Kurt gasps and rocks down hard and back up. “You like watching?”
“God, yes. Perfect. Kurt, you're so perfect.”
Kurt chuckles a little, low and throaty, and lifts his arms into the air, showing off the muscles in his back and shoulders as he picks up speed, sliding up and down, his ass slapping against Blaine's sweat-slick skin. Blaine grips his hips more tightly, his eyes roving from Kurt's back to a bead of sweat dripping over the back of his neck and sliding down, down towards the edge of the corset, and then back to where his cock is sliding in and out of Kurt's hole.
He feels tight and loose at the same instant, overwhelmed, and he wants so badly to come, but god, he never wants this to be over. And he tries to stop it; he closes his eyes tight and tries not to look, not to feel so much, not to feel every shift and slide of their bodies as they fit so perfectly together. But he can't deny himself, and Kurt doesn't want him to.
As his belly shudders he opens his eyes, watching for the last time as his cock buries itself in between the cheeks of Kurt's ass, as Kurt's back shifts and leans slightly forward. Blaine holds on for dear life, letting out one long, loud jumble of words and gasps and moans and pitches his hips upwards, pounding into Kurt quickly once, twice, three times and he's coming and coming and coming.
He doesn't notice Kurt lifting off of his body or disposing of the condom, just feels it when he snuggles close and kisses Blaine gently on the shoulder and then the mouth, his still hard cock poking insistently into his side. Blaine opens his eyes and leans up to press another kiss to Kurt's smiling lips. “Just give me a minute,” Blaine says, his voice thick and rough. “I wanna blow you.”
Kurt chuckles a little and kisses the tip of Blaine's nose. “That's okay, baby. You don't have to.”
“I want to. Please? That was part of my fantasy too.”
Kurt smiles and nods a little and lies back against the bed, head resting on a pillow. He spreads his legs and throws his hands up over his head and waits.
He's so beautiful, lying there. The fabric of the corset and his skin pale against the dark grey of his bedding. It's no wonder, Blaine thinks, that he has become Lucy's muse. It's no wonder she can't function but to document his every dip and curve and line and expression. He is a work of art in and of himself.
Blaine stumbles a little, still groggy and shaky from his orgasm, and places himself between Kurt's splayed legs as Kurt giggles at him from the head of the bed. He throws Kurt a failed attempt at a glare, and bends over, taking him into his mouth in one fell swoop. Kurt doesn't giggle anymore. Blaine hears a thump, Kurt's head hitting against the headboard, and smiles around his cock, sliding his mouth down and back up, sucking lightly at the head. He wraps his fingers around the base and brings his hand up, slipping and sliding in his left-behind saliva. He takes a deep breath as Kurt groans, smells skin and lube and light floral scent of fabric softener, and then he sucks and slides his mouth down as far as he can, takes in as much of Kurt's long, satiny-skinned cock as he can, his hand following his movements down and up and down. He swallows and then sucks and then bobs his head faster and faster as Kurt's hips start to cant slowly up off the bed, pushing his cock more and more insistently into Blaine's mouth. Blaine withdraws his hand and relaxes his throat and just lets Kurt take him however he needs to, lets Kurt fuck into his mouth and throat over and over, his ass rising off the mattress as he thrusts his hips up and down and up.
Kurt lets out a grunt and then keens as he begins to spill into Blaine's mouth, coating his tongue and the back of his throat. Blaine swallows it down, feels some slip out from between his lips and drip onto his chin as Kurt's hips jerk erratically. He slides off slowly, his tracing tongue making Kurt shift and groan. Blaine runs a finger over his chin, catching the errant come, and licks it off, then crawls up to cuddle next to Kurt.
His bare skin feels strange against the lace and satin and for the first time he wants to remove the corset from Kurt's body, wants to feel nothing but Kurt's skin pressing against his own. He motions for Kurt to turn over and unties it clumsily, removing it finally and tossing it to the foot of the bed.
Kurt sends him a sleepy looking smirk. “Next time you're wearing the corset,” he says with a happy little hum. “I have some fantasies of my own.”
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5500
Spoilers: very vague spoiler spec for future episodes
Warnings: masturbation, phone sex, riding, facefucking and a corset
Summary: Blaine had mixed feelings about the idea of the photographs. Those feelings fell by the wayside the moment he saw one in particular. Now he can't get the image of Kurt out of his head.
Thanks to Keri for looking this over. <3
Lucy Enfield had taken over one hundred portraits of Kurt since he met her at the laundromat around the corner from his Bushwick apartment in a moment of what she refers to as “serendipity”. Now Kurt is her muse and Blaine has been reaping the benefits. Photography students take a lot of photographs. They are never without their cameras, it would seem, and Kurt and Lucy are often attached at the hip.
And so Blaine has enough images of Kurt to plaster the walls of his room. He settles for his computer, phone and locker. Kurt has never said much about these photo sessions, only to mention that he is always flattered by Lucy's praise, but often embarrassed. He mostly sends the images attached to emails without much commentary, and Blaine saves them with flourish and adds them to his rapidly growing folder which he has entitled “beautiful”.
And so he is confused when Kurt calls him one night and brings up the portraits, sounding nervous and hesitant.
“So... Lucy wants me to pose for an assignment she's working on for her Fine Art Photography class.”
Blaine laughs, despite the odd tone of Kurt's voice. “And when does she not want you to pose for her assignments? If she could get away with making you a still life, she would.”
When Kurt laughs with him it sounds terribly forced. “Well, she did try to make me into a landscape that one time.”
“That's one of my favourites,” Blaine says.
“Yeah,” Kurt answers vaguely.
“Is something wrong, Kurt?”
“No. No, I just... Well, I wanted to ask what you thought about it. If it would be okay with you or if it would make you uncomfortable.”
Blaine is confused. Kurt sounds as though he is asking for his permission, and they don't have that sort of relationship. He wonders if he did something to make Kurt think Lucy's attentions upset him in any way. “Kurt, you know I love Lucy's photos of you. That one you sent me last week is the background on my phone and computer, and I printed it to hang in my locker. I don't understand...”
“These would be a bit different, Blaine. I would be, um... well. Nude.”
“Oh.”
Kurt makes a quiet humming sound into the phone that Blaine barely registers. He should have guessed, he supposes. What else could Kurt have possibly meant? And he doesn't know how he feels about it, because wow. Nude. All of Kurt's body and skin and everything on display for other people who aren't Blaine to see. If it were only Lucy, well, Blaine guesses he would be okay with that, even though he's pretty sure she's at least half in love with Kurt. But other people - professors and students and everyone who attends the school's photography exhibitions will see Kurt. His Kurt. The one nobody but Blaine has ever seen.
God, Blaine feels like the biggest ass because he wants to say no. He wants to say you can't. But it's not his body and he has no right. They don't have that relationship and he is glad for it.
“I take it by your silence that you don't want me to do it,” Kurt says.
“What? No. I mean... it's up to you, Kurt. It's your body. It's not my decision.”
“But if it was your body, if it was your decision, you would say no.”
“If it was me? I probably would. But it's not me.”
Kurt sighs heavily and there is another long moment of silence that follows. “Would you think less of me?”
“What? No, of course not. Don't be silly.”
“She showed me sketches of what she wants to do. They were tasteful and everything. And you won't be able to even tell it's me. Well, you will, but no one else. My face won't be in them.”
“Okay. It's fine. I can tell you want to. Just promise me one thing?”
“Yeah?”
“Send me all of them.”
Kurt chuckles. “Of course.” He sounds lighter, no longer nervous. Blaine wishes he felt the same way.
~*~
They don't bring it up again. Blaine finds himself wondering if today is the day more times than he can count, but he never knows when, exactly, Kurt bares all for Lucy's camera.
It's six weeks later when an email arrives in his inbox with the title: !!!. He's confused at first, until he opens the first attachment. He was about to shut his laptop and head out to meet Tina and Sugar for coffee. Instead he sits down on his bed and stares.
He stares so long that the girls begin to text him but he hardly notices the buzzing of his phone.
There are fifteen attachments in total. Bits of Kurt's body at close range: the broad expanse of his back, the curve and hollow of his hip, the V of his bent elbow rising towards his head where his large, long-fingered hand is splayed against the contrast of his dark hair. These are all monochrome - a wash of pale blues. There are others which Blaine cannot absorb with quite the same ease.
Kurt's shoulders are wide and his waist trim, tapering in and back out with the swell of his hips. Blaine knows that he is self-conscious about them, an old wound cut by Sue Sylvester who once called them womanly and pear-shaped, but Blaine loves that part of him, loves all parts of him. Especially where his hips curve out around his perfect, round-cheeked ass. Blaine studies these photographs of Kurt for several long moments, catching every slight change in pose, every minute difference in the direction and diffusion of the light.
When he opens the thirteenth attachment, his breath catches in his throat. His shoulders look even wider, his waist even more trim. And his hips. And, God, his ass.
The corset is laced up the back; something pale and old fashioned and not what Blaine has ever considered sexy. Except that it is. So sexy. The curve of Kurt's back swathed in the lace and silky fabric, his waist shaped by the boning and the tightness of the laces. His ass swells out from beneath, lifted slightly off the platform on which he is seated, making its round, pale globes the focus of the image. It literally is the focus, Blaine discovers when he looks even more closely, the depth of field shallow and tapering off towards the outer edges. It is grainy and black and white and looks ancient. It is the single most gorgeous thing that Blaine has ever seen.
He responds to Kurt's email with a single word: WOW.
~*~
Kurt never mentions the photos again. They talk on the phone and Skype and text and send each other hand written love letters. Sometimes Blaine wonders if Kurt is waiting for him to bring it up, or if he is embarrassed, or if he thinks that Blaine's meagre response meant that he disapproved or that he didn't like the photographs. It is quite the opposite of course; Blaine can't stop thinking about the image of Kurt in that corset. He looks at it whenever he has the chance. It haunts his dreams, waking him up in the dark of the night, leaving him breathless and hard and aching. He has thought about that one image every time he has touched himself since he'd first set eyes on it, and it has become his greatest fantasy to see Kurt wearing the corset in the flesh. To wind his hands around his hips and slide his tongue over the cheeks of his ass. To tighten the laces himself and just look. Look. Study ever dip and plane and curve until he drives himself crazy with need. And then they would fuck. He wants that, too. Needs it like air.
And Blaine is a generally intelligent individual with a good amount of common sense, so he is well aware that if he wants this fantasy to become reality, he needs to bring up the photographs.
As it turns out, Blaine doesn't have to. Kurt brings it up for him on the phone one night, a week before Easter break and Blaine's first trip to New York to stay at Kurt's apartment since they'd officially gotten back together.
There is a lot of noise in the background when Blaine answers the call. It diminishes as Kurt greets him until he eventually hears far-off laughter and what sounds like the rustle of his curtains being pulled shut. “I get home to find that Rachel has decided to have a little get together without telling me. A get together she calls it. More like a party.” Kurt sighs in exasperation and Blaine can make out the telltale signs of him heaving himself onto his bed. “I mingled for as long as I could, I swear.”
Blaine laughs and makes a cooing noise. “Poor baby, forced to be sociable in his own home.”
“I know, right? Anyway, I've been wanting to call and talk to you, so it's the perfect reason to avoid Rachel's friends.”
“I'm sure Rachel has lovely friends,” Blaine says and Kurt giggles into the phone. This laughter is strange, and Blaine begins to wonder how long this party has been going on and how long Kurt had been present before he decided to slip away and call.
“Uh-huh. Anyway, Mr. I Love Everyone, I did call you for a reason.”
“And what was that, other than that you love and miss me and wanted to hear my voice?”
Kurt giggles again and it sounds almost slurred. Blaine's suspicions grow and he smiles to himself. It seems his boyfriend may have let loose a little this evening, and that is something Blaine is extremely glad he is being given the chance to be privy to.
“Yes, yes, there is always that. But, um... well, there was something specific.” And that clinches it for Blaine, because Kurt definitely slurred on specific. “Um... remember those pictures I sent to you?”
Blaine closes his eyes and exhales softly. He'd wanted to prepare for this, to decide exactly what he should say, precisely the right moment to bring the issue up. But Kurt has done it for him in all of his innocent drunkenness. “I, um...” Very suave, he thinks. You are smooth, Blaine.
“Yes, um. Well, it's just, you didn't really say anything, Blaine, and I've been worrying, well, wondering...” Kurt heaves a sigh and laughs again.
“Kurt, are you drunk?”
“A little. Don't change the subject, mister.”
“I'm not, it's just - I liked the pictures, Kurt.” Blaine swallows. Understatement of the century. The grainy black and white image of Kurt in the corset flashes through his mind and he has to lie back on his bed. He closes his eyes and rubs a hand across his forehead. He wants to tell Kurt everything: how he's been using that image as masturbation fodder for weeks and how he wants Kurt to wear the corset for him and how he has never been so turned on his is life as he was when he first opened that file on his computer.
“So you're not mad at me? You don't think I'm... I dunno, bad or something for posing like... like that.”
Kurt's voice has changed; he sounds sort of melancholy, his tipsy giggles gone. Blaine feels a horrible sense of guilt wash over him. He should have said more. He should have been open about the whole thing from the very beginning.
“God, Kurt, no. I... I didn't say anything because I - because I've been so, God, so damn turned on, okay? I felt dirty telling you I've been -”
“Blaine Anderson, have you been jerking off to those pictures of me?” Kurt gasps and laughs a little, the sound of relief.
“Yes. Yes, okay. Fuck. You have no idea, Kurt. That corset... your shoulders... your ass... I can't even tell you how many times I've jerked off to that picture alone. You're just... You're so fucking sexy, Kurt.” Blaine takes a deep breath and waits for a response.
When Kurt breaks the silence he sounds closer, his breath heavy and full of something, something Blaine would very much like to investigate when Kurt is a whole lot nearer. “Mmm. Well, Mr. Anderson, it would seem that you are in luck, because I still have that corset and would be more than willing to model it for you in person.”
And Blaine whimpers. He actually whimpers. Kurt chuckles low and deep. “You want that badly, don't you?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to wear it for you when you come visit me, Blaine?”
“Yes. God, yes. Please.”
“Are you touching yourself, Blaine?” Kurt asks, a strange mixture of amusement and lust in his low voice.
“No.” Blaine's answer is quiet, whisper-soft. He wants to. But he and Kurt, even though they've been apart for months now, they haven't tried this: phone sex or Skype sex, or any other sort of long distance-type of sex. He's kind of wanted to, but when they spoke about it Kurt seemed embarrassed and hesitant, so he didn't push.
He doesn't need to push now. “You want to, don't you? I can hear it in your voice. I know that voice, Blaine. It's okay, you know. Take your cock out, baby. Do it for me.”
Blaine swallows and pauses for half a second before he's scrambling to pull down his pants and underwear in one go. He gets them down to mid-thigh and wraps his fingers around his cock. And he waits. Kurt is running this show. Blaine wants to be told what to do.
“You did it, didn't you?”
“Uh-huh.”
Kurt hums happily and Blaine can hear fabric rustling on his end. He wonders if Kurt is doing the same. “What do you want, Blaine? What do you think about when you picture me in that corset? What do you want to happen when you're here in my bed and I have it in hand?”
Blaine swallows and opens his mouth to answer, but Kurt is continuing, his voice almost teasing now. Blaine squeezes his cock and slides his hand slowly up and back down and gasps into the phone.
“That's it, baby. You don't have to tell me. How about I guess? Hmm....” Blaine takes his hand off his dick for a moment and licks his palm, not wanting to waste a second rummaging through his drawer for lube. He lets out a soft moan when he replaces his now slick hand and Kurt breathes heavily into the phone. “Yeah,” he says, “that's it. Do you want to put it on me? Slip it around my body and slide the laces through the eyelets and tighten them. Yes, pull them so, so tight that I can barely breathe, and then bend me over and fuck me. Is that what you want, Blaine?”
Blaine moans more loudly this time, his hips arching up off the bed, looking for more, searching for more than just the hand that is pumping his cock. But all he has is his hand right now, stuck in Ohio like he is with Kurt hours away, an achingly hot voice on the other side of a phone call.
“Or no, maybe not. You want to see me like I was in that picture. You want me like that, huh? Yeah. I'll bet you do.”
“Kurt -” Blaine lets out another loud moan and quickens his pace. He's so close. Everything feels desperate and tight and so sensitive.
“You want me to straddle you. Yeah, that's perfect. Backwards. And I'll ride you like that. Is that what you want, baby? To watch your cock fucking my ass and me wearing that corset?”
And that's when Blaine loses it. His hips are jerking up off the bed and his hand slips half off his dick, come splattering on his t-shirt and chin and all over his bed. He drops the phone somewhere in the midst of his orgasm, and when he's calmed down enough to remember what he was just doing, let alone who he is, he wipes off his hand on the already soiled blanket and searches around under his head.
“Kurt?”
“Mmm, yes. I'm still here, lover. How are you?”
“I, um... good. Wonderful. Kinda sleepy.”
Kurt laughs again, throaty and sensual. “Mmhmm. I know how you get. I won't be offended.”
Blaine hums and smiles, though he knows Kurt can't see him. “Love you.”
“Love you, too. I'll let you get some sleep. And Blaine?”
“Mmm?”
“I'll have it waiting. The corset. And me. For when you arrive.”
“Nnngh,” Blaine says, articulate as always.
Kurt giggles a little and makes a kissing noise into the phone. “Goodnight, my love. Sweet dreams.”
~*~
Sent at 7:38am
From Kurt <3
On a scale of 0 to 10, how freaked out are you about last night?
Sent at 7:38am
From Kurt <3
And I would like to remind you that I was drunk. Probably more than I let on. Blame Rachel and her evil booze/swampwater concoction.
Sent at 7:40am
From Blaine xo
Is 0 not at all freaked out and 10 running for the hills?
Sent at 7:41am
From Kurt <3
Oh god...
Sent at 7:43am
From Blaine xo
ZERO, Kurt. Relax. Love you! One more week!!! ;)
~*~
They ride the subway to Kurt's apartment. It's a weekday and getting close to rush hour, so the cars are packed with bodies. Kurt and Blaine are forced to stand, fronts pressed together with Blaine's small suitcase tucked between their legs. Kurt has become a subway riding expert over the past nine months; he leans from side to side as the train sways and trundles on, not even needing the bar that Blaine is clutching for dear life. Blaine nearly stumbles anyway, when the train takes an unexpected turn, and Kurt wraps a steadying hand around his waist and gives him a sweet smile.
Blaine is so happy to be near Kurt after so long away that he's content to just stay quiet and watch his expressions: his disgust at the man snoring with his mouth wide open, drool dripping onto his chin; his amusement at the conversation two girls are having about how hot Neil Patrick Harris and his husband are; his fond, loving gaze as he looks back at Blaine, his beautiful eyes blinking down lazily. He reaches out a hand and clasps one of Blaine's, pulling it off of the metal bar and bringing it to rest on his waist. With a mischievous quirk of his lips, he slides Blaine's hand up under his jacket and shirt, which is untucked - in and of itself an oddity.
Blaine feels the warm, smooth skin of Kurt's waist at first, but as Kurt coaxes his hand further up his fingers bring up against it - the silky panels of fabric, the firm, immovable strips of boning. The corset.
He's wearing the corset.
The rest of the train ride seems to take forever, and once they've disembarked and headed for the sunlight outside of the station, they still have a ten minute walk to Kurt's apartment.
It's the longest ten minutes of Blaine's life.
Rachel and Santana are nowhere to be seen when Kurt pulls Blaine in through the door. Blaine glances around as Kurt locks up behind him, but doesn't really take anything in. The apartment has changed since last he was here. He knows this because Kurt had filled him in on every little improvement as he'd made them. Blaine promises himself that he will notice. Later. But right now...
Kurt is next to him again, so close that he can feel the heat of his body through the layers of his clothes - jacket, sweater, shirt, corset. Blaine shudders in remembrance and grabs for Kurt, pulling him against his body with more ferociousness than he had intended. They kiss like they're devouring each other, all spit and tongues and teeth, yanking at each others' clothes and stumbling as they both attempt to toe off their shoes at the same time.
They leave their shoes, jackets and sweaters in a heap in the middle of the entryway and push and pull their way to Kurt's curtained-off bedroom space, shirts and undershirts being torn off and flung away as the grapple with each other, mouths moving from swollen lips to marked up necks to newly bared shoulders.
Blaine splays his hands on Kurt's hips while Kurt works to open the fly of Blaine's jeans, swatting the buckle of the belt aside with impatience. The corset is stiff above Blaine's fingers, the sumptuous fabric soft and sensual. He lets his fingertips wander up to brush just the tiniest bit against it, fluttering under a strip of boning to swipe at Kurt's skin underneath. He sucks in a breath just as his jeans are pushed to the floor and Kurt stands on them and taps Blaine's hip in a silent order to step out of them.
The rest of the short stumble to Kurt's bed is a blur, Blaine's entire focus on Kurt's corset-covered chest and the way he can see one small, pink nipple poke out from over the top as Kurt shifts around him, tugging on his body and pulling, pushing until Blaine is flat on his back on top of Kurt's soft bed, spread out with Kurt bent down between his legs, pulling off his last article of clothing and tossing it into a corner.
Kurt stands up straight and stares down at Blaine for a long moment, an eyebrow arched and his lips plump and wet and abused. He runs his tongue across them and takes the corner of the bottom one between his teeth. Blaine holds in a groan.
“You stay exactly there,” Kurt says, his voice husky. “And I'll be right back.” And he walks away and out of the room before Blaine has the chance to ask him what he means and where he is going and most importantly, when he will be back.
He's tempted to touch himself as he lies there waiting for what feels like an age, but he doesn't. This is Kurt's show to run and Blaine tells himself he can wait. He has to wait. But god, it's so tempting as his mind flits through images of Kurt in the corset, from grainy black and white to Blaine's own fantasies to Kurt just now, exposed skin marked by Blaine's hands and mouth, tight jeans and white silk and lace, dishevelled hair and a sultry expression. His hand twitches at his side and he slides it across Kurt's duvet to finger at the curve of his own naked hip, waiting. Waiting.
He hears the slap of Kurt's feet on the hard floor as he comes back to the room wearing a deep red satin robe, his bare legs and feet peeking out beneath. He slips the curtains shut, cutting them off from the rest of the apartment, and makes his way to the bed.
“Hello,” he very nearly purrs and Blaine feels his stomach clench with want. As Kurt bends down over him the neck of his robe slips, his shoulder peeking out, and Blaine can just make out the top edge of the corset, shiny and pale against Kurt's rosy skin. He seems flushed, his eyes glassy with lust as he stares down into Blaine's. “I guess I can get rid of this now,” he says, and unties the robe and lets it fall down around him on the bed. He stays there next to Blaine for a moment, Blaine's eyes raking over every inch of him he can see, then Kurt smirks and pushes at the robe, the silky fabric slithering to the floor, its absence revealing his long, curved, achingly hard cock. Blaine wets his lips as Kurt chuckles above him.
“Now, how was this going to go again?” he asks, his voice teasing. Blaine looks up from Kurt's cock and Kurt smiles at him.
“Um... we need lube and -”
“Way ahead of you, sailor.” Kurt opens his right palm to reveal a small bottle of lube and a foil condom wrapper. “Why don't you lie back and relax?” He pushes Blaine down fully onto his back and tears open the condom, sliding it over Blaine's cock and then squirts lube over his fingers.
“Kurt, what about - ?”
“Shh. Relax and enjoy. This is your fantasy after all.”
Blaine lets out a gasp and his eyes flutter shut as Kurt's lithe fingers begin to slowly pump his cock, spreading lube over the head and down the shaft. Blaine opens his eyes when the torturously gentle glide disappears and takes Kurt's body heat with it.
“I think I remember the pose,” Kurt is saying, and he gets on his knees on the bed, turning around with his back to Blaine. He lifts one leg and slides it over Blaine's hips, shifting in position so that he's straddling his body, the laces of the corset pulled tight and the ends dangling down his spine. Blaine's eyes follow where they point, all the way down to Kurt's round ass, its warmth resting against his belly. He lets out a longing groan as Kurt cants his hips to one side, curving his spine and tilting one shoulder higher than the other, his hands forward and resting on his own thighs. His waist is impossibly tiny, his hips rounded, his ass, fuck. Blaine can't help himself any longer. He reaches out with both hands to cup the muscular globes in his palms, petting and squeezing as his breath begins to pick up. He bites his lip, Kurt lifting just slightly so Blaine's hands can slide underneath, his thumbs meeting at the crack and pulling it apart only slightly. Kurt leans forward and Blaine gasps and groans and curses.
He is stretched, the skin around his hole wet, shining with lube. “God you, fuck. You're -”
“What did you think I was up to for so long, darling?”
Blaine whimpers as Kurt shuffles forward, his hands falling uselessly to his sides. Kurt reaches back with one hand and holds himself open for Blaine to see and grasps the shaft of Blaine's aching cock with the other, sliding slowly down until the head meets the soft slickness of skin and lube. Blaine shudders and whines as Kurt begins to lower himself onto his cock, slipping it into his body inch by inch until he is sitting flush on Blaine's hips. He leans forward just slightly and rocks up a fraction and back down, letting out a low moan. And Blaine is mesmerized, watching as his cock slides out and back in between the round perfection of Kurt's pale ass, the light of the lamp shining off the flat planes of silky fabric stretched across his broad back.
He reaches forward to slip his hands down the expanse of corset, his fingers moving over the boning and twisting in the lace, and then slipping down to bite into the flesh of Kurt's hips, moving up and down with the rocking off his body.
“You like that?” Kurt gasps and rocks down hard and back up. “You like watching?”
“God, yes. Perfect. Kurt, you're so perfect.”
Kurt chuckles a little, low and throaty, and lifts his arms into the air, showing off the muscles in his back and shoulders as he picks up speed, sliding up and down, his ass slapping against Blaine's sweat-slick skin. Blaine grips his hips more tightly, his eyes roving from Kurt's back to a bead of sweat dripping over the back of his neck and sliding down, down towards the edge of the corset, and then back to where his cock is sliding in and out of Kurt's hole.
He feels tight and loose at the same instant, overwhelmed, and he wants so badly to come, but god, he never wants this to be over. And he tries to stop it; he closes his eyes tight and tries not to look, not to feel so much, not to feel every shift and slide of their bodies as they fit so perfectly together. But he can't deny himself, and Kurt doesn't want him to.
As his belly shudders he opens his eyes, watching for the last time as his cock buries itself in between the cheeks of Kurt's ass, as Kurt's back shifts and leans slightly forward. Blaine holds on for dear life, letting out one long, loud jumble of words and gasps and moans and pitches his hips upwards, pounding into Kurt quickly once, twice, three times and he's coming and coming and coming.
He doesn't notice Kurt lifting off of his body or disposing of the condom, just feels it when he snuggles close and kisses Blaine gently on the shoulder and then the mouth, his still hard cock poking insistently into his side. Blaine opens his eyes and leans up to press another kiss to Kurt's smiling lips. “Just give me a minute,” Blaine says, his voice thick and rough. “I wanna blow you.”
Kurt chuckles a little and kisses the tip of Blaine's nose. “That's okay, baby. You don't have to.”
“I want to. Please? That was part of my fantasy too.”
Kurt smiles and nods a little and lies back against the bed, head resting on a pillow. He spreads his legs and throws his hands up over his head and waits.
He's so beautiful, lying there. The fabric of the corset and his skin pale against the dark grey of his bedding. It's no wonder, Blaine thinks, that he has become Lucy's muse. It's no wonder she can't function but to document his every dip and curve and line and expression. He is a work of art in and of himself.
Blaine stumbles a little, still groggy and shaky from his orgasm, and places himself between Kurt's splayed legs as Kurt giggles at him from the head of the bed. He throws Kurt a failed attempt at a glare, and bends over, taking him into his mouth in one fell swoop. Kurt doesn't giggle anymore. Blaine hears a thump, Kurt's head hitting against the headboard, and smiles around his cock, sliding his mouth down and back up, sucking lightly at the head. He wraps his fingers around the base and brings his hand up, slipping and sliding in his left-behind saliva. He takes a deep breath as Kurt groans, smells skin and lube and light floral scent of fabric softener, and then he sucks and slides his mouth down as far as he can, takes in as much of Kurt's long, satiny-skinned cock as he can, his hand following his movements down and up and down. He swallows and then sucks and then bobs his head faster and faster as Kurt's hips start to cant slowly up off the bed, pushing his cock more and more insistently into Blaine's mouth. Blaine withdraws his hand and relaxes his throat and just lets Kurt take him however he needs to, lets Kurt fuck into his mouth and throat over and over, his ass rising off the mattress as he thrusts his hips up and down and up.
Kurt lets out a grunt and then keens as he begins to spill into Blaine's mouth, coating his tongue and the back of his throat. Blaine swallows it down, feels some slip out from between his lips and drip onto his chin as Kurt's hips jerk erratically. He slides off slowly, his tracing tongue making Kurt shift and groan. Blaine runs a finger over his chin, catching the errant come, and licks it off, then crawls up to cuddle next to Kurt.
His bare skin feels strange against the lace and satin and for the first time he wants to remove the corset from Kurt's body, wants to feel nothing but Kurt's skin pressing against his own. He motions for Kurt to turn over and unties it clumsily, removing it finally and tossing it to the foot of the bed.
Kurt sends him a sleepy looking smirk. “Next time you're wearing the corset,” he says with a happy little hum. “I have some fantasies of my own.”