DISCLAIMER(S): I am not a teenage boy, much less a gay teenage boy. and also I have not had sex. So if anything comes off as inaccurate, anatomically incorrect, or just plain odd, please! Let me know? Thanks. Also, apparently all porn I write ends up with D/s overtones, and the D/s bits in this are NOT discussed beforehand or negotiated in any way, which is NOT a good way to do things. Blaine is completely out of line tying Kurt up without discussing it first, especially considering that at the time, Kurt isn't at all in a headspace to be able to make reasoned decisions. However, this is fantasy, so whatever.



He went down the stairs, finally spotting Blaine about halfway down. Blaine was dressed, in the same business casual attire he’d worn last night, but his button up shirt was still undone and he wasn’t wearing socks. He was drying his hair, and couldn’t see Kurt.

Kurt snuck up behind his boyfriend and snaked his arms around Blaine, resting his chin on Blaine’s shoulder. “Hello,” he said breathlessly into Blaine’s ear, closer than actually necessary.

Blaine dropped the towel. “Kurt!” His hands flashed down to rest on top of Kurt’s.

“Yes, honey?” Kurt said, still channeling his favorite Hollywood starlets. “What can I do for you?” He felt more than heard his boyfriend take a deep, shuddering breath. Emboldened, Kurt lightly kissed Blaine—first on the ear, then on the neck, and then stayed there—not biting or sucking or anything like that, just letting his lips barely graze his boyfriend’s skin. Blaine made a smothered sound and his hands tightened on Kurt’s, but his head bent to the side, giving Kurt more room and wordlessly asking for more.

Kurt disentangled himself to move around Blaine and sit on the bed. Grabbing Blaine’s hand, he tugged him forward. Blaine stepped in closer, but that wasn’t what Kurt wanted. This time, he pulled suddenly and sharply, making Blaine lose his balance and fall on top of Kurt, who lay back on the bed.

“Kurt.” Blaine groaned raggedly, trying to get up the self-control necessary to move off of his beautiful, gorgeous, fucking tease of a boyfriend. Kurt’s hand was somehow in his hair, though, and then Kurt was kissing him, and Blaine had agreed to treat Kurt like an equal in this part of their relationship the same as everywhere else, and yeah, they’d agreed they’d go slow, but Kurt was there and moving up into him and kissing wantonly and really, what was Blaine supposed to do in this kind of a situation? He growled into Kurt’s mouth and used his knee to coax Kurt’s legs open, to let him in. God, Kurt was hard, and Blaine was hard, and he wanted and he was so tired of trying to push that want down where Kurt couldn’t see it.

Kurt wanted this. Blaine knew that. He knew that Kurt might not be ready for it. He also knew that that was Kurt’s to decide, not Blaine’s. (Kurt had rather forcefully pounded that into his head a month ago.)

So Blaine went for it. He still tried to hold himself back, not to go too fast or be too forceful, to give Kurt every chance in the world to say no or I’m not sure or I don’t want—

Blaine pulled back from Kurt’s increasingly desperate kisses, despite the disconsolate noise Kurt made when he did so, and stood up, off of the bed. Kurt looked incredibly frustrated and Blaine could tell he was about to start arguing, so Blaine went ahead and dropped to his knees before Kurt could open his mouth. He was still in between Kurt’s legs, but much further down, so Blaine tugged his boyfriend closer to him by his thighs.

“Wha-” Breathless, Kurt tried to sit up, but Blaine’s hands were on his hips.

“I want to suck you off,” Blaine said. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Kurt’s groin. God, did he want to suck Kurt off. He’d wanted to suck Kurt’s cock for what seemed like forever.

“Wait, what?” Kurt panted, sounding shocked.

Blaine quickly glanced up at Kurt’s face, concerned, but Kurt didn’t seem to be upset or uncomfortable, just a little disbelieving and a whole lot turned on.

“I want to suck you off,” Blaine repeated.

Kurt was blushing now, really blushing. The tops of his ears were bright red. Blaine thought it was adorable. (And since when did adorable turn him on? Oh, yeah— when he started dating Kurt.)

“But — why would you — it’s gross! And you won’t be able to breathe, and I’ll do something stupid and hurt you, and then you’ll hate me, and —”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Blaine tugged on Kurt’s hand, encouraging him to sit up. “I could never hate you, Kurt. And what do you mean, it’s gross and I won’t be able to breathe?”

“Rachel said —”

Blaine closed his eyes in frustration. “Kurt. You really need to stop listening to what girls say about sex. Especially Rachel.”

“But—”

“Believe me, this isn’t some sort of selfless act,” Blaine said, squeezing Kurt’s hand. “I want to, I promise. I’ve been thinking about it for months.” He paused. “It’s not gross, Kurt. And yeah, things might not go completely smoothly the first time, but that’s what practicing’s for. I’ve been dreaming about this, baby,” Blaine confessed. “If you don’t want me to, that’s fine; that’s more than fine; I told you, we’re doing this at your pace. But if it’s just that you think I’ll hate it, then — please, baby? I want to suck your cock. I want to taste you, feel you in my mouth.” Blaine pulled Kurt’s hand gently to his lips and kissed where Kurt would one day wear his ring. “I want to make you feel so, so good, baby,” Blaine whispered. “Please let me?”

Kurt stayed utterly still for a moment, then shakily nodded. “Okay. Should I —” Kurt gestured vaguely at his pants. Blaine couldn’t help but smile.

“I got it,” he assured his boyfriend. Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand reassuringly one more time and then moved his hands to Kurt’s hips, almost petting him. He could feel the minute shakes of Kurt’s body as his fingers drifted up to trace the delicate skin of Kurt’s stomach, and then dipped down below his waistband. Blaine swallowed hard as he finally (finally!) started to unbutton Kurt’s pants and slowly pull them down.

Kurt wasn't wearing underwear, which startled Blaine a little, even though he'd been half expecting it. Kurt did like his tight pants, after all. As Blaine tugged Kurt's pants over his hips, more and more pale skin came to light. Blaine couldn't help but grin when he realized Kurt had freckles here too. Leaning over just a little, Blaine paused to kiss the skin he'd just bared. "You've got freckles," he said breathlessly.

Kurt squirmed uncomfortably. "I know," he said, voice high and tense. "I can't get rid of them."

Blaine shook his head, brushing his lips across Kurt's skin. "I love your freckles," he said, pulling himself up to give Kurt a proper kiss. "I think they're adorable. You're adorable."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "And you're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh.

"Too cheesy?" Blaine asked.

"Even if you had a dozen bottles of wine," affirmed Kurt.

Blaine grinned and eased himself back down onto his knees.
Kurt wasn't shaking anymore, his nerves forgotten. He tensed up again when Blaine urged him to pull his hips off the bed for a moment, but he was still more relaxed than he had been. Which had been the whole point.

Blaine felt a little less nervous too. It was okay. Even if he messed up, it would be okay. He still couldn't help but take in a sharp breath when he finally got to see Kurt's cock.

He’d seen dicks before, of course —hello, he had one— but somehow this was different from watching porn or jerking himself off. This was Kurt. It was Kurt’s cock curving upward toward his stomach, Kurt’s cock that was flushed red and swollen, Kurt’s cock that was shaking a little from the tremors that were racking his body.

Blaine hesitated a moment, then slowly leaned in and kissed the head, a short, soft kiss that had Kurt jerking in surprise. Blaine drew back, tongue flickering out to run over his lips. He could taste something vaguely salty that he supposed was Kurt. “Okay?” Blaine asked, rubbing Kurt’s hip soothingly.

“Y-yes,” Kurt said shakily.

“Okay,” Blaine said. Taking a deep breath, he leaned in again, this time actually taking Kurt’s erection into his mouth.

It was at once everything Blaine had imagined and nothing like it at all. He could feel Kurt’s heartbeat, for fuck’s sake, and they never said anything about that on sex ed websites. Kurt was warm in his mouth, strangely so, considering Blaine was pretty sure the inside of his mouth was a higher temperature than Kurt’s surface body temp. He was warm and solid and he filled Blaine’s mouth completely in a way no practice-popsicle ever had.

It was awesome.

Blaine could feel Kurt’s cock pressing at the back of his mouth, tickling his throat and threatening to trigger Blaine’s gag reflex. Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hips, pinning them to the bed, and slowly, deliberately swallowed.

The sound Kurt made was one Blaine would be replaying in his mind during jerkoff sessions for the rest of his life, fuck. Blaine desperately wanted to reach down and jerk off; he was so goddamn hard it hurt. There was something else he wanted more, though.

Blaine’d always (okay, not always, but since not very long after discovering gay porn) thought he’d be a bit of a slut for cock, or at least for sucking cock. He liked playing with his ass every once in a while, but he tended to fantasize more about fucking than being fucked. But holy Mary, mother of God, did he like having a cock in his mouth.

His friends had always teased him about his oral fixation. He always had a pen in his mouth, or a lollipop, or something, at least when he was relaxed enough to be just Blaine and not Blaine Anderson, heir to the Andersons (yes, those Andersons).

They had no fucking idea.

Distantly, he realized that he’d tightened his grip on Kurt, pressing him further into the bed, and that considering how fair his boyfriend was, probably bruising him (and jesus, wasn’t that a hot image? Kurt going around about his day, classes, Glee, all the while underneath that prim neat exterior bruises like fingerprints bracketing his hips, marking him, claiming him, reminding him of Blaine with every little ache) but Kurt wasn’t complaining, in fact, he was moaning, leaning into it, so Blaine let himself go and just lost himself in sucking Kurt’s cock.

He loved sucking cock. He couldn’t believe they’d gone so long without doing this. God, he should be sucking Kurt’s cock all the fucking time.

Blaine tried a few times to deep throat Kurt the way he’d seen in pornos, which turned out to be not his best idea ever, making him choke and his eyes tear up, but it was still fucking hot, so who the fuck cared? He’d just have to practice. Oh no, woe is him, he needs to suck Kurt’s cock again so he can give a better blowjob.

Tonguing the sensitive spot right below the head, Blaine pulled off of Kurt’s cock just enough to easily look up. He wanted to see Kurt’s face. He needed to see Kurt’s face. He needed to see his meticulous, particular, controlled boyfriend fall apart, needed to see what he was doing to Kurt, how he was making him feel – God, he’d fantasized about this a thousand times and now he was actually going to see –

Kurt was crying.

Fuck, Kurt was crying.

Blaine instantly scrambled up onto the bed, hands fluttering indecisively over Kurt’s shoulders. He didn’t know what to do; he didn’t know what he’d done, but Kurt was crying and Blaine wanted to touch him, hold him and apologize and tell him how much Blaine loved him, how much Blaine would always love him, but what if Kurt needed space or –

Kurt solved his dilemma by grabbing a bit of Blaine’s shirt and pulling down (hard) so Blaine was on the bed next to him. Kurt curled towards him and practically buried himself in Blaine’s arms; Blaine could feel his shirt getting damp and the minute tremors that racked Kurt’s body.

(He could also feel Kurt’s naked cock, strangely enough, still rock-hard, right next to his, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now.

…Okay, mostly not thinking about that right now. Blaine’s only human, after all.)

Blaine belatedly realized he was babbling, asking Kurt if he was alright and “God, I’m so sorry, baby. I love you, Kurt. I’m sorry, so sorry; please, talk to me, baby. Please, just let me know if you’re okay—“

Blaine cut himself off. Of course Kurt wasn’t okay.

Huddled up in the circle of Blaine’s arms, Blaine could feel Kurt shaking his head against Blaine’s chest. He said something, but it was muffled and Blaine couldn’t make it out.

“Kurt, baby, I can’t understand you.”

Kurt still didn’t pull back and so his reply was still muffled, but he’d raised his voice enough that Blaine could make out that Kurt was fine, he was sorry, he was fine, just give him a minute, okay? He’s fine; he promises.

Blaine didn’t know what to do. He petted at Kurt helplessly, trying to provide comfort in whatever way he could. He still didn’t know what was wrong.

Except that he’d been right. Kurt was so not ready for them to go that fast. Even if he wanted them to.

Kurt’s breath still hitched a little, but his body was stilling, calming under Blaine’s hands. Finally Kurt pulled back enough that Blaine could finally see his face. It was slightly red and tearstained, but Kurt looked surprisingly calm for someone who’d been crying moments earlier.

Blaine started to speak, but Kurt cut him off with a finger to his lips. “It’s not your fault,” Kurt said softly. “It was—when you were—“ Kurt was stumbling over his words, so he paused, licked his lips, and started again. “That felt really good,” he said. “Like, really really good.”

Blaine must have looked a bit skeptical, because then Kurt was rolling his eyes in a frustrated manner. “It was just really intense, Blaine. And I didn’t know what to do. I should have said something, but it felt so amazing and then it was just too much and I couldn’t stand it even though I wanted you to never stop.” Kurt took in a large, slightly shaky breath. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Blaine didn’t understand.

Kurt shifted slightly and suddenly he was closer. His leg slipped between Blaine’s and they were entangled in a way that was somehow even more intimate. And then Kurt—he was biting his lip and looking at Blaine in that uncertain, adorable, fucking sexy way he sometimes did, and deliberately rolling his hips into Blaine’s. Blaine couldn’t help but groan, and his hips reflexively thrust back for a moment before he regained control and stilled them. “Kurt…” His voice trailed off. Blaine didn’t know what to say. He was having trouble thinking straight, but he was pretty sure this was a bad idea. Getting right back on the horse was not a sex thing. Right?

Kurt sighed one of those exasperated little sighs of his and suddenly his hand was snaking in between their bodies—

“Kurt!” Blaine intercepted the hand, grabbing both of Kurt’s wrists firmly and holding them down against the bed. “Stop.”

Kurt made a small sound that Blaine couldn’t interpret, but stayed still.

“We need to talk about this,” Blaine said. “We need to…” Blaine paused and studied Kurt’s face more closely. Kurt looked…turned on? And overwhelmed again. Just like he had during the blowjob, although he didn’t look close to tears this time. Kurt shifted beneath Blaine, and Blaine would have immediately let him up, except that it didn’t look like Kurt was actually trying to get out from underneath him. It was more like he just couldn’t stay still, couldn’t help but twist against where Blaine had him pinned down. It was almost as if…

Experimentally, Blaine tightened his grip. Kurt whimpered, there was no other word for it, and his hips thrust up against Blaine restlessly. “You like this,” Blaine said slowly. “You like it when I hold you down.”

Kurt shook his head wildly. “No,” he said, and it was obviously a lie. “No, I don’t. Why would I— I don’t.”

He looked terrified. And so, so turned on. Thinking about it, Blaine could understand the fear. Kurt was always so in control. He liked being in control. He was even controlling at times. He didn’t like letting people—Blaine—take care of him. No, that wasn’t quite right. He didn’t like the idea of needing someone to take care of him. He didn’t like the idea of being weak.

Never mind the fact that Kurt wasn’t. He was the strongest person Blaine knew, and Blaine knew a lot of strong-minded people. (His mother, for one.)

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s wrists again warningly. “I thought we agreed we would always be honest with each other,” Blaine said, a little embarrassed by how raw his voice sounded.

“We did,” Kurt said, “We did, but I don’t—”

“Kurt.”

Something about his tone of voice made Kurt close his eyes and try to turn away, to hide from him.

“Don’t lie to me,” Blaine said quietly, adjusting his grip so he could hold both of Kurt’s wrists down with just one hand. With the other, he made Kurt look at him. “Look at me, Kurt.” Reluctantly, slowly, Kurt opened his eyes. “That’s it, baby,” Blaine said, rubbing the inside of Kurt’s wrist with his thumb soothingly. “It’s okay. You like this, don’t you?”

Kurt’s face twisted up and for several long minutes, he didn’t answer. Blaine waited patiently, just watching.

“…yes,” Kurt finally admitted in a quiet wretched voice. He tried to turn away from Blaine’s gaze again, but Blaine held him still.

“Yes, what, Kurt?”

Kurt shook his head. “Don’t make me—”

“Kurt.”

Kurt’s eyes scrunched shut again. Blaine thought it was easier for him that way, if he didn’t have to see Blaine.

“I…I like this,” Kurt said, and he sounded absolutely miserable.

“Like what?”

Kurt let out a little despairing sound. Blaine was aware he was being cruel, but somehow he knew this was important. He had to get this right.

“Like what?” Blaine repeated.

Kurt mumbled something unintelligible, and Blaine tightened his grip disapprovingly. Kurt swallowed hard and tried to speak several times, but couldn’t seem to make the words come out.

“This isn’t difficult, baby,” Blaine said. “You like what?”

“…like it when you hold me down.”

Blaine let out a sigh of relief. He’d worried he was pressing too hard. “Thank you, baby,” he said, letting his appreciation and approval color his voice. “That was hard for you to admit, wasn’t it?”

Kurt gave a small jerk of agreement.

Blaine nodded. “I know it was. But you did. You were so good for me, baby, telling me the truth.” Kurt made a small, strange sound which would have concerned Blaine if it weren’t for the way he could feel the tension melting out of Kurt’s body. “So good for me,” Blaine repeated, murmuring it into Kurt’s mouth in between short, sweet kisses. “So good, baby.”

Kurt’s breath hitched, but he didn’t say anything. Blaine didn’t need him to say anything, though. The way Kurt was sinking down into the bed and curling himself against Blaine was a clear enough response. Kurt didn’t just like being held down. He liked being good. His face had flushed and it was still scrunched up in discomfort—embarrassment, most likely; as arrogant and assured of himself as Kurt was, he was really quite terrible at accepting praise for anything except his singing or his choice in clothes.

Blaine knew Kurt didn’t believe him, not really, when Blaine told him how beautiful he was, how sexy, how smart, how much Blaine loved him. It hurt. Blaine understood why. He understood the damage McKinley had wrought, how day after day of being told you were wrong and disgusting and poisonous could affect a person, particularly a person as kind and sensitive as Kurt.

That didn’t stop it from hurting when Kurt didn’t believe him. Kurt was getting closer to it, though, Blaine was pretty certain. Kurt trusted Blaine to be honest, trusted Blaine to always tell him the truth.

Kurt just didn’t trust that Blaine knew the truth. For a long time, Blaine hadn’t understood that. He’d resented the fact that Kurt seemed to think he was constantly lying to him. It wasn’t until he’d accidentally overheard a conversation between Kurt and Mercedes that he had started to put the pieces together.

***

“Have you seen the way that boy looks at you?” Mercedes’ voice demanded.

“Just because he thinks he’s in love with me doesn’t mean he really is,” Kurt’s voice had responded, slightly steely.

“The hell are you talking about, Kurt? That’s pretty much exactly what that means.”

There was a pause. Then Blaine heard Mercedes’ voice again.

“Why can’t you just believe him? You’re always talking about how honest you guys are with each other, which, by the way, I still say is strange, so why…?”

Blaine heard a sigh, probably from Kurt.

“I believe that he believes it,” he heard Kurt say wearily. “There’s a difference. C’mon; we’re going to be late for Glee. And why would we want to miss our wonderful opportunity to sway in the background and do harmonies for Miss Rachel Berry?”

***

“So beautiful like this,” Blaine said into the vulnerable hollow of Kurt’s throat. “Beautiful and perfect and mine.” He let go of Kurt for a moment in order to coax Kurt’s shirt up over his head. Kurt tried to help, but he was so dazed that he was actually hindering Blaine’s efforts. The sartorial battle ended with Blaine triumphantly tossing Kurt’s button-up aside. Kurt clicked his tongue disapprovingly at the treatment, but never got a chance to complain. While Kurt had been refocusing on his clothes, Blaine had taken the opportunity to divest himself of his clothes and collect...supplies.

Kurt blinked stupidly at the crumpled shirt on the floor. He knew he ought to get up and at the very least hang the shirt up, if not take an emergency iron to it; it was designer and probably ruined now, but he wasn’t entirely certain he could stand up. His body felt as though his bones had melted away, been dissolved by the heat of Blaine’s touch. He ought to get up.

“Shh, baby.” Blaine’s face came into view above him, making Kurt’s neck strain looking at him. Blaine gently encouraged him to lay back down on the pillows, and Kurt sank gratefully back into the softness of the bed. He didn’t feel entirely real. It was like a dream, or at least like what Kurt thought dreams should be like. He usually didn’t remember his dreams.

Blaine was shirtless now. Kurt wanted to touch him, all that skin exposed when it was normally hidden away--Blaine had hair on his chest. Kurt had always kind of found chest hair gross, but it looked good on Blaine and he wanted to touch it, see what the texture was like, but when he tried to reach out, Blaine wouldn’t let him. Instead Kurt found himself with his arms outstretched above his head. Blaine crossed his wrists, one over the other, and Kurt shook a little at the feeling. His wrists ached, ached like he did waiting for a kiss, a touch, anything from Blaine. It felt good and terrible and Kurt couldn’t stand it. He tried to pull his arms down, but Blaine had done something and he couldn’t; there was something wrapped around his wrist, holding him there, restraining him and Kurt ought to be frightened, he ought to be angry and yelling and asking Blaine what the hell he thought he was doing, but he wasn’t, he wasn’t--

“Calm down, Kurt.”

Kurt couldn’t calm down. How the fuck was he supposed to calm down?

“Breathe, baby. You were being so good for me before. Just breathe.” Kurt felt little kisses being dusted over his face and neck, soothing nearly as much as they aroused. His breath was slowing, deepening, and the panic seemed to be receding, which almost seemed to be a reason to panic further, but then Blaine was kissing him again, really kissing him, and Kurt just let himself go.