Fic: In the Still of the Night
Title: In the Still of the Night
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1850
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Burt
Spoilers: nothing current
Summary: It's their first sleepover at Kurt's house and Blaine is determined to be a gentleman. Takes place mid-season 3.
Written for Project: NAGERTUTWP on tumblr. Many thanks to Keri. :)
It's their first sleepover at Kurt's house - well, first sleepover with permission anyway - and Blaine is bound and determined to be a consummate gentleman. It's difficult, what with Kurt lounging around in zinging tight yoga pants that leave very little to the imagination, but Burt and Carole are home, and as much as Blaine likes and respects Burt, he's still the tiniest bit afraid of him, too. Maybe more than a tiny bit, he decides, as Burt gives him a knowing look before his eyes sweep away to rest on Kurt who is splayed out across the bed like a starfish, his head resting on Blaine's belly. He's twining their fingers together, the palm of his hand flush and hot against Blaine's pyjama clad thigh.
“No funny business when other people are in the house, Kurt,” Burt says in a gruff voice. “Even me and Carole are respectful of you guys and don't -”
Kurt interrupts his father with a loud gagging sound to which Burt responds with his patented 'don't be so dramatic' eye roll. It's a dance Blaine has watched them perform many times. It never gets any less amusing.
“Well now there definitely won't be any business, funny or otherwise,” Kurt says, lip still curled.
Burt smirks. “Then I guess my job is done here. Have a good night, boys.” He gives them one last little wave before leaving the room, the door closing with a quiet click behind him.
Blaine is still staring at the closed door when he hears Kurt say, “I guess I should go get changed.” He looks down to where Kurt is fingering at the waistband of his yoga pants, his hand inadvertently pushing up his t-shirt and revealing one tantalizing strip of pale skin above it.
Blaine swallows. Gentleman. “You're not wearing that to bed?”
Kurt looks down at himself, then back up at Blaine, a smirk stretching slowly over his lips. “No. Should I be?”
Blaine tries really hard to keep his eyes on Kurt's face. Really. But they drift down to the unfairly large bulge beneath the tight black fabric of his pants and Blaine has to swallow again before answering, an action that Kurt catches this time. One of Kurt's eyebrows arches upwards and his smirk becomes more pronounced. “Guess not,” Blaine says.
“Uh-huh.” Kurt turns over and gets up on his knees, knee-walking over and lifting one leg in order to straddle Blaine's body. He seats himself on Blaine's hips, his hands clutching his shoulders.
Blaine flails a little, unsure of where to put his own hands, his face heating and his dick hardening. “Kurt, we shouldn't - your dad, he might come back.”
Kurt chuckles and leans in to press a kiss to Blaine's jaw. “He won't come back. He said goodnight and closed the door. He's a smart guy and he knows coming back might lead to him seeing things that could possibly cause mental trauma.”
“But he -”
“He knows we love each other, Blaine. He doesn't actually care if we do anything. That was just his way of saying that he doesn't want to hear us doing any of the things that he knows we do.”
“I just - I wouldn't want to do anything to make him not like me -”
“He loves you, Blaine. So does Carole. You're like their third son.”
Blaine swallows again, but for an entirely different reason this time. He's touched, and Kurt beginning to slowly grind against him feels very wrong somehow. “We can't. I don't want them to think that I'm -”
Kurt stops and smiles down at him. “All right, sweetheart.” He presses a gentle kiss to Blaine's lips before slipping away to change for bed.
When he returns dressed in his monogrammed satin pyjamas, he climbs under the covers and turns out the bedside lamp. “Come here, my little spoon,” he whispers into the dark. And Blaine, soft smile and butterflies, complies.
~***~
When Blaine wakes up in the middle of the night, the inky blackness of the room quiet and cold, he knows even in his groggy state that something isn't right. Something isn't as it should be. It takes him a moment to realize that what he is missing is the warmth of Kurt's arms around him, his body spooning Blaine's and wrapping him in a cocoon of comfort.
He scoots back, looking for Kurt. His ass finds him first, bringing up against Kurt's rigid cock. Kurt lets out a hiss and pulls himself away, his hands wrapping around Blaine's hips to still him. Blaine lets a low moan, like a question, leak from his parted lips and presses back towards Kurt's body, paying no heed to the grip he has on Blaine's hips. Kurt's cock is hard. So hard. Blaine wants to feel it against him again.
It only takes a moment of nudging and quiet mewls of protest before Kurt gives up and slides forward. His lips touch Blaine first, soft and dry against the side of his neck, then next comes his arm, sliding on the mattress and under Blaine's body, hand rubbing down his chest and up to his jaw, gently caressing. His other arm hooks around Blaine's waist and pulls him backwards, slipping his body easily across the cool expanse of sheets between them. Kurt brings him to rest back against his warm chest, Blaine's ass rounded into the curve of his groin, hard cock slotted perfectly between the cheeks. Blaine lets out another embarrassing mewl and pushes back to rut up and down against Kurt's cock, his own cock thickening in his pyjamas.
“Kurt, Kurt, Kurt,” he whimpers, still rutting, but there isn't enough friction, not with the slippery slide of Kurt's satin pants. “More.”
The arm that Kurt has under Blaine's body twitches and then his hand reaches up to slap down over Blaine's mouth. Blaine's next moan comes out muffled and Kurt thrusts harder, almost chastising, against his ass, and then slides his free hand over Blaine's hip and belly. He teases for a moment, stroking the warm, slightly sweaty skin there with his cool fingertips, and then just as Blaine is about to beg, Kurt takes his cock roughly in the palm of his hand and gives it a squeeze. Blaine moans and Kurt's hand clamps more tightly over his mouth, his hips stuttering in their rhythm against him. And Blaine doesn't want that. He tells himself to be quiet, presses a kiss to the palm of Kurt's hand like a promise.
Kurt must have understood, because he throws his top leg over Blaine's hip to give himself some leverage, tightens his hold on Blaine's cock and he begins to rut against his ass in earnest. He does not, however, remove his hand from where it rests over Blaine's mouth.
There is a low creaking coming from the bed at the motion of Kurt's hips as he rocks forward, Blaine pushing back to meet him, Kurt's fist still gently squeezing his cock. It's not enough and Blaine whines quietly against Kurt's palm, opening his lips to take the heel of it into his mouth to suck. Kurt grunts against the back of his neck and lets go of Blaine's cock. He's about to protest, about to throw Kurt's hand off of his mouth and say Hey!, but a second later Kurt is fishing his hand beneath the elastic of Blaine's pyjama pants and grasping his cock. He doesn't tease, but grips the shaft, sure and firm, and begins jerking his hand up and back down, fingers catching under the head, thumb shifting up to run over the slit, and he pulls back down, twisting his wrist and pumping up, down, up...
Blaine gasps around the flesh of Kurt's palm, still sucking, his saliva making the skin slippery as it drips down Kurt's wrist and Blaine's own chin. He wants to plead fuckmefuckemfuckme, but he knows he has to be quiet. Instead he bends himself forward and pushes back more insistently, Kurt's satin-covered cock sliding even more deliciously in between the cheeks of his ass.
Kurt seems to like this new position just as much as Blaine does - he increases the speed of his thrusts, increases the speed of his hand fisting at Blaine's cock. Blaine's entire right side is pressed into the mattress now, Kurt all but lying on his back, rutting against him and breathing harshly in his ear.
Up and down and Kurt twists his hand, his thumb catching on the ridge of Blaine's cock and that's it - Blaine feels a tingling low in his belly and his balls tighten and he stifles his gasps and moans into Kurt's flesh, biting down on the heel of his palm as his cock spurts thick and hot all over the bed and Kurt's fist.
Kurt doesn't give him time to catch his breath, but withdraws his messy hand and brings it to Blaine's hip, gripping it firmly and holding Blaine still so he can continue to rut against his ass. Half a dozen more thrusts and he lets out a harsh breath through his nose as he comes, the slick skin of Blaine's neck blocking his ah ahs from echoing around the room.
As they rest in a sweaty, sticky heap Blaine thinks, somewhat irrationally, that their heavy breaths and thumping hearts must be loud enough to alert the other occupants of the house to the goings-on in Kurt's bed.
Kurt gives Blaine's neck a wet kiss and retracts the hand from his mouth. “So noisy,” he whispers, voice rough, breath tickling, damp, against the shell of Blaine's ear. Blaine's cock gives a halfhearted twitch in his messy pants.
They lie, sated, for several minutes before Kurt rolls away, his feet thumping onto the hardwood floor. He pulls down the blankets and Blaine's shivers, sweat drying on his skin in the cool night air. And then Kurt is there in front of him, naked below the waist and wiping himself off with his own pyjama bottoms. He nudges Blaine's shoulder gently and pushes him onto his back, then reaches down to grasp the waistband of his pants and pulls them off, wiping away the come from Blaine's cock and belly. He gives the spot on the bed a lazy swipe with the flannel pyjama bottoms, then shrugs, tossing their soiled clothing next to the nightstand before making his way back to the other side of the bed.
Kurt climbs in and pulls the blankets back over them, taking Blaine by the hand and tugging him over to his side. They tangle together, half naked and kissing languidly, running fingers through hair and over skin.
“True love is not making your lover sleep in the wet spot,” Blaine whispers into Kurt's clavicle and Kurt snorts a laugh, and another until Blaine's head is bopping up and down against his chest. “Now who's being noisy?” Blaine asks, and pokes a finger into the ticklish spot on Kurt's side.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1850
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Burt
Spoilers: nothing current
Summary: It's their first sleepover at Kurt's house and Blaine is determined to be a gentleman. Takes place mid-season 3.
Written for Project: NAGERTUTWP on tumblr. Many thanks to Keri. :)
It's their first sleepover at Kurt's house - well, first sleepover with permission anyway - and Blaine is bound and determined to be a consummate gentleman. It's difficult, what with Kurt lounging around in zinging tight yoga pants that leave very little to the imagination, but Burt and Carole are home, and as much as Blaine likes and respects Burt, he's still the tiniest bit afraid of him, too. Maybe more than a tiny bit, he decides, as Burt gives him a knowing look before his eyes sweep away to rest on Kurt who is splayed out across the bed like a starfish, his head resting on Blaine's belly. He's twining their fingers together, the palm of his hand flush and hot against Blaine's pyjama clad thigh.
“No funny business when other people are in the house, Kurt,” Burt says in a gruff voice. “Even me and Carole are respectful of you guys and don't -”
Kurt interrupts his father with a loud gagging sound to which Burt responds with his patented 'don't be so dramatic' eye roll. It's a dance Blaine has watched them perform many times. It never gets any less amusing.
“Well now there definitely won't be any business, funny or otherwise,” Kurt says, lip still curled.
Burt smirks. “Then I guess my job is done here. Have a good night, boys.” He gives them one last little wave before leaving the room, the door closing with a quiet click behind him.
Blaine is still staring at the closed door when he hears Kurt say, “I guess I should go get changed.” He looks down to where Kurt is fingering at the waistband of his yoga pants, his hand inadvertently pushing up his t-shirt and revealing one tantalizing strip of pale skin above it.
Blaine swallows. Gentleman. “You're not wearing that to bed?”
Kurt looks down at himself, then back up at Blaine, a smirk stretching slowly over his lips. “No. Should I be?”
Blaine tries really hard to keep his eyes on Kurt's face. Really. But they drift down to the unfairly large bulge beneath the tight black fabric of his pants and Blaine has to swallow again before answering, an action that Kurt catches this time. One of Kurt's eyebrows arches upwards and his smirk becomes more pronounced. “Guess not,” Blaine says.
“Uh-huh.” Kurt turns over and gets up on his knees, knee-walking over and lifting one leg in order to straddle Blaine's body. He seats himself on Blaine's hips, his hands clutching his shoulders.
Blaine flails a little, unsure of where to put his own hands, his face heating and his dick hardening. “Kurt, we shouldn't - your dad, he might come back.”
Kurt chuckles and leans in to press a kiss to Blaine's jaw. “He won't come back. He said goodnight and closed the door. He's a smart guy and he knows coming back might lead to him seeing things that could possibly cause mental trauma.”
“But he -”
“He knows we love each other, Blaine. He doesn't actually care if we do anything. That was just his way of saying that he doesn't want to hear us doing any of the things that he knows we do.”
“I just - I wouldn't want to do anything to make him not like me -”
“He loves you, Blaine. So does Carole. You're like their third son.”
Blaine swallows again, but for an entirely different reason this time. He's touched, and Kurt beginning to slowly grind against him feels very wrong somehow. “We can't. I don't want them to think that I'm -”
Kurt stops and smiles down at him. “All right, sweetheart.” He presses a gentle kiss to Blaine's lips before slipping away to change for bed.
When he returns dressed in his monogrammed satin pyjamas, he climbs under the covers and turns out the bedside lamp. “Come here, my little spoon,” he whispers into the dark. And Blaine, soft smile and butterflies, complies.
~***~
When Blaine wakes up in the middle of the night, the inky blackness of the room quiet and cold, he knows even in his groggy state that something isn't right. Something isn't as it should be. It takes him a moment to realize that what he is missing is the warmth of Kurt's arms around him, his body spooning Blaine's and wrapping him in a cocoon of comfort.
He scoots back, looking for Kurt. His ass finds him first, bringing up against Kurt's rigid cock. Kurt lets out a hiss and pulls himself away, his hands wrapping around Blaine's hips to still him. Blaine lets a low moan, like a question, leak from his parted lips and presses back towards Kurt's body, paying no heed to the grip he has on Blaine's hips. Kurt's cock is hard. So hard. Blaine wants to feel it against him again.
It only takes a moment of nudging and quiet mewls of protest before Kurt gives up and slides forward. His lips touch Blaine first, soft and dry against the side of his neck, then next comes his arm, sliding on the mattress and under Blaine's body, hand rubbing down his chest and up to his jaw, gently caressing. His other arm hooks around Blaine's waist and pulls him backwards, slipping his body easily across the cool expanse of sheets between them. Kurt brings him to rest back against his warm chest, Blaine's ass rounded into the curve of his groin, hard cock slotted perfectly between the cheeks. Blaine lets out another embarrassing mewl and pushes back to rut up and down against Kurt's cock, his own cock thickening in his pyjamas.
“Kurt, Kurt, Kurt,” he whimpers, still rutting, but there isn't enough friction, not with the slippery slide of Kurt's satin pants. “More.”
The arm that Kurt has under Blaine's body twitches and then his hand reaches up to slap down over Blaine's mouth. Blaine's next moan comes out muffled and Kurt thrusts harder, almost chastising, against his ass, and then slides his free hand over Blaine's hip and belly. He teases for a moment, stroking the warm, slightly sweaty skin there with his cool fingertips, and then just as Blaine is about to beg, Kurt takes his cock roughly in the palm of his hand and gives it a squeeze. Blaine moans and Kurt's hand clamps more tightly over his mouth, his hips stuttering in their rhythm against him. And Blaine doesn't want that. He tells himself to be quiet, presses a kiss to the palm of Kurt's hand like a promise.
Kurt must have understood, because he throws his top leg over Blaine's hip to give himself some leverage, tightens his hold on Blaine's cock and he begins to rut against his ass in earnest. He does not, however, remove his hand from where it rests over Blaine's mouth.
There is a low creaking coming from the bed at the motion of Kurt's hips as he rocks forward, Blaine pushing back to meet him, Kurt's fist still gently squeezing his cock. It's not enough and Blaine whines quietly against Kurt's palm, opening his lips to take the heel of it into his mouth to suck. Kurt grunts against the back of his neck and lets go of Blaine's cock. He's about to protest, about to throw Kurt's hand off of his mouth and say Hey!, but a second later Kurt is fishing his hand beneath the elastic of Blaine's pyjama pants and grasping his cock. He doesn't tease, but grips the shaft, sure and firm, and begins jerking his hand up and back down, fingers catching under the head, thumb shifting up to run over the slit, and he pulls back down, twisting his wrist and pumping up, down, up...
Blaine gasps around the flesh of Kurt's palm, still sucking, his saliva making the skin slippery as it drips down Kurt's wrist and Blaine's own chin. He wants to plead fuckmefuckemfuckme, but he knows he has to be quiet. Instead he bends himself forward and pushes back more insistently, Kurt's satin-covered cock sliding even more deliciously in between the cheeks of his ass.
Kurt seems to like this new position just as much as Blaine does - he increases the speed of his thrusts, increases the speed of his hand fisting at Blaine's cock. Blaine's entire right side is pressed into the mattress now, Kurt all but lying on his back, rutting against him and breathing harshly in his ear.
Up and down and Kurt twists his hand, his thumb catching on the ridge of Blaine's cock and that's it - Blaine feels a tingling low in his belly and his balls tighten and he stifles his gasps and moans into Kurt's flesh, biting down on the heel of his palm as his cock spurts thick and hot all over the bed and Kurt's fist.
Kurt doesn't give him time to catch his breath, but withdraws his messy hand and brings it to Blaine's hip, gripping it firmly and holding Blaine still so he can continue to rut against his ass. Half a dozen more thrusts and he lets out a harsh breath through his nose as he comes, the slick skin of Blaine's neck blocking his ah ahs from echoing around the room.
As they rest in a sweaty, sticky heap Blaine thinks, somewhat irrationally, that their heavy breaths and thumping hearts must be loud enough to alert the other occupants of the house to the goings-on in Kurt's bed.
Kurt gives Blaine's neck a wet kiss and retracts the hand from his mouth. “So noisy,” he whispers, voice rough, breath tickling, damp, against the shell of Blaine's ear. Blaine's cock gives a halfhearted twitch in his messy pants.
They lie, sated, for several minutes before Kurt rolls away, his feet thumping onto the hardwood floor. He pulls down the blankets and Blaine's shivers, sweat drying on his skin in the cool night air. And then Kurt is there in front of him, naked below the waist and wiping himself off with his own pyjama bottoms. He nudges Blaine's shoulder gently and pushes him onto his back, then reaches down to grasp the waistband of his pants and pulls them off, wiping away the come from Blaine's cock and belly. He gives the spot on the bed a lazy swipe with the flannel pyjama bottoms, then shrugs, tossing their soiled clothing next to the nightstand before making his way back to the other side of the bed.
Kurt climbs in and pulls the blankets back over them, taking Blaine by the hand and tugging him over to his side. They tangle together, half naked and kissing languidly, running fingers through hair and over skin.
“True love is not making your lover sleep in the wet spot,” Blaine whispers into Kurt's clavicle and Kurt snorts a laugh, and another until Blaine's head is bopping up and down against his chest. “Now who's being noisy?” Blaine asks, and pokes a finger into the ticklish spot on Kurt's side.