Summary: In the mountains of what was once the Northeastern United States of America, the descendants of a band of refugees who had escaped New York City at the end of a great World War are beginning to thrive after almost a thousand years of struggle. Relying on a combination of bits and pieces of advanced technology salvaged from the remains of great cities, as well as the still-pristine forest that they now call home, the people of Westerville are determined to rebuild a world in which peace, love, and cooperation mean more than victory, greed, and wealth.
Blaine Anderson is heir to the ruling seat of Westerville and, from birth, has been destined for an arranged marriage—he must father an heir in order to ensure the line of succession. When it becomes clear to his parents that his affections lie with his own sex, they make it their mission to find him a suitable—and potentially happy—match with a carrier who can return his interest.
Kurt Hummel is the son of Burt Hummel, Westerville’s most well-known engineer. Though he has grown up far from the Andersons’ manor in a small village to the north, his family has worked with the Andersons for generations, providing them with transportation vehicles, engines, machines, research, and repair work of all kinds. After the tragedy of losing his wife, Burt takes it upon himself to explain to Kurt that, since his birth, he has been sought after by the Andersons as a potential future husband for their son, because he is a carrier.
This is the story of Kurt and Blaine’s betrothal, courtship, and how they start their family, but it is first and foremost the story of how a young boy from a small village grows into leadership, marriage, and parenthood at the same time as he grows into manhood, and how he discovers himself along the way.
Elliott introduces Kurt to the D/S scene. Kurt enjoys himself but doesn’t find exactly what he’s looking for until an adjunct vocal professor at NYADA named Blaine Anderson makes him think that maybe he can have his submissive needs met as well as the romance he’s always wanted.
Warnings: dom!Blaine/sub!Kurt containing: wrist restraint, face fucking, blindfolds, noise-canceling headphones (sensory deprivation), spanking (with a belt) and some rough sex. All consensual.
first time that the topic comes up, Kurt has a belly full of warm
sake and good sushi and Elliott’s face is bright red. If Elliott is
blushing, he must be telling the truth, because he’s both a terrible
liar and usually only becomes flustered when it’s called for.
I’m saying is, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” Elliott
says. He uses his chopsticks to guide a piece of unagi into his
mouth. “I was sure it wasn’t for me until he had me trussed up
and face down—”
my god, we’re in public,” Kurt says.
is all for saucy talk, but this is his sushi place—the waiter knows
his birthday and what he does for a living—and he’d rather avoid
one’s listening. Relax,” Elliott says.
looking particularly attractive in black jeans and a maroon Henley.
There’s a new tattoo on the inside of his wrist that Kurt keeps
meaning to ask about, but the sudden, warm gleam in his eyes is far
me spring for a bottle,” he says, when Kurt remains silent,
pointing to the empty one on the table, “and we can go back to
The first time
Kurt mentions it, they’re halfway through arranging a second batch of
oatmeal cookies for the oven. They’ve been alone all night, but
there’s a strange tension between them that has kept Blaine from
relaxing, and when Kurt throws his oven mitts down and crosses his
arms and puffs out his right cheek with his tongue, Blaine knows he’s
about to be told off or shocked or both. The look on Kurt’s face
says I have something to say and I’m going to say it.
Still, he isn’t
prepared for what comes out when Kurt finally speaks.
“I want to
have sex.” Kurt blushes all the way down to the collar of his
shirt. “I want to—receive, I want to be on top, and I want to
do it with the lights out.”
and then holds up a long wooden spoon. “The timer’s about to go
off on that first batch?” He puts down the spoon, picking at a
clump of dough stuck to its back. “No more cookies?”
This is not the
right thing to say, which Blaine learns as soon as the words leave
his mouth and Kurt’s blush goes from an excited sprawl to a blotchy,
irritated show of embarrassment.
Anderson, unless that’s an objection you will march your butt right
up those stairs while I safely pause our baking endeavors and
Arranged marriage AU where Kurt, a NYC fashion designer, loses his husband, moves back to Lima to recover/take care of his dad, and is paired up for remarriage with Blaine, who is a senior at McKinley.
Warnings: Kurt is 26, Blaine is 18, so age difference. OC & minor character death. A lot of talk about grief. Some unhealthy coping, as well as some not-so-healthy sexual interaction related to those issues. Nothing too heavy, IMO, but consider yourself warned.
“There has to be some mistake,” Kurt says to the woman sitting at the computer behind the counter.
She’s wearing a blouse that’s a size too big, and her flyaway hair makes him want to take a brush to her. Focusing on these details is the only thing that’s keeping him from going completely psycho on her. She has the stone-face politeness that state and government workers learn to perfect, and he is angrier than he has been in a very long time. After what he’s been through this year, being angry almost feels good. And then he remembers why he’s here.
“You are Kurt Hummel? The address and email and phone number in the email that you received was correct?” she asks.
“Yes,” he says, shaking the printout in his hand. He’s had to go through three people just to get to her, and now he’s sure that she isn’t a manager of any kind. “Look, I’ve only been in town for two months. My deferment—”
Her eyes scan the computer screen in front of her. “Your extended grief deferment expired eighteen days ago, Mr. Hummel. You officially changed your address to Lima fifty five days ago. You are employed, financially stable, and have a permanent residence here. When your deferment ended, you were issued a spousal assignment in the system. There’s nothing that we can do to change this, as you must be aware, since you have been married before. You’ve been assigned a marriage date. If you and your future spouse want to change the location from the courthouse to something more personalized, that is entirely up to you.”
Early on, they had agreed to a list of things that were Not Okay. Sex in public places, especially pools. PDA that went beyond hand-holding, hugs, and/or chaste kisses. Sex without protection because, even though they had both been virgins, it is the Responsible Thing to Do. Heavy metal music. Okay, so that has nothing to do with sex, but say it came on the radio or something during…and yeah, they’d have to stop, full stop. Sex with clothes on that they could not bear to sully. Hickeys, for obvious reasons (his dad eyes them like a hawk, along with half the Glee club, and Kurt bruises like a peach and he is so serious about his skin care regimen that it’s become part of their relationship, hello, and besides that, see: trashy).
Of course, Blaine isn’t really thinking about this last one when they make out. It’s not that he intends to break one of their Rules; he’s just getting into it. Making out has become something that he is good at because–well, it’s all they do. Kissing and nipping and licking takes on a whole three-dimensional world of its own when it is the beginning middle and end of any given encounter. He’s become a master at kissing, changing it up, at using his tongue and teeth to great effect without freaking Kurt out, at knowing just where his hands can go and for how long.
dreamyblaineanderson requested Kurt walking in on Blaine masturbating, an anon requested pre-Klaine with sleep-overs and awkward erections, another anon requested first time anal sex fail, and another anon requested Klaine at Dalton.
So: a hooking up at Dalton PWP. This includes barebacking and consensual semi-somnophilia. Yeah I just kind of needed to write some smut. :)
Embarrassment goes a long way for Kurt when it comes to friends. He replays the conversation that he and Blaine have about sex in his mind probably once every other hour. He feels–ridiculous, and overwhelmed, and he really wishes that the topic had come up in a different way. He could’ve had that talk with any close friend but no, it had to have been Blaine. Gorgeous, confident, experienced Blaine, Blaine who is gay and there and likes him and–
God, some days he just wants to dig a very deep hole, crawl into it, and never come out again.
He never counted on this–issue coming up at Dalton so fast but he supposes that he should have seen it coming; he’s surrounded by guys now all day and night. There’s a constant loop of intimacy and closeness and though it is largely platonic he sees little gestures here and there that let him know that some of the guys are involved. He hears knowing chuckles in regards to couples covering for each other so that they can be together and avoid the room checks. He even walks in on a two boys making out in one of the study rooms once.
My contribution to the reaction!fic from episode 4X14.
“King sized bed?” Blaine asks, eyelids heavy, unable to take the grin off of his face because Kurt’s hand is around his tie and yeah—he’s never been surer of anything in his life, and he knows that Kurt knows it.
Kurt pulls him in by the tie and kisses him, smiling sassily, shoulders twitching in a barely-there shrug. “Best laid plans.” And there’s no hesitation there at all. Blaine grins and Kurt grins and they kiss, wet and fast and familiar, all the way across the room.
It feels good. Good is an understatement, really, but it fits; everything about this is right but it’s not the emotional mess or the intense up and down that Blaine had dreaded it might be. From the moment they’d seen each other Kurt had been confident and comfortable and Blaine had known, just known, that the attraction between them was alive and well and bubbling just below the surface, and that neither of them would bother denying that, at the very least.
Once he’d realized that they could just slide back into that comfortable physical space with abandonment and light-hearted banter, his heart had fucking soared. This was the way back for them; this told Blaine everything that he needed to know. Kurt maybe hadn’t forgiven him or even approached the idea of doing so, but the bond is still there. Kurt’s affection for him is still there. And that is all that matters.
Warnings for: barebacking (without possibility of consequence), oversensitivity, tentacle!sex, and size kink.
He isn’t up here to throw himself off. Really. Okay, so maybe it looks that way—but honestly, he’d have to climb over quite a lot of stuff to get to that edge, and he’s already freezing, and he’s not up here to throw himself off, remember?
It’s New Year’s Eve, he’s twenty years old, his date ditched him for a dancer ten minutes into the Vogue mixer; he needs some space and air and to remind himself that he is fabulous and he doesn’t need anyone in his life to remind him of that fact.
And he is sad. But not that kind of sad.
He also isn’t alone, but he doesn’t realize this until a terribly earnest voice shouts, “Don’t do it! You have so much to live for.”
He freezes, clutches his overcoat a little tighter around himself, and turns. Halfway across the rooftop is an attractive man around his own age, dark hair slicked back, hazel eyes wild with concern, and a compact body sheathed in a Topman slim suit that looks better on him than on most of the models who Kurt has seen wearing them.
“Uh,” he says, “I’m not up here to jump?”
“It’s okay,” the man says. “You’re not alone.”
“No, really,” he replies, backing up because this guy might be nuts and Kurt is definitely out of range to shout for help all the way up here. “I’m not going to jump.”
The first time that Blaine stops Kurt from going to the bathroom to clean up/prepare himself before they have sex and offers to do the job instead.
Warnings for: prostate play.
“I’ll just, um, go get ready,” Kurt breathes, warm and self-conscious and as sweet as ever, just beneath Blaine’s ear, where his lips had been happily occupied moments before.
It’s been like this since the beginning–Kurt reaching that point where he’s quietly overwhelmed, body shaking and sweating against Blaine’s, and then Blaine will press close, rub himself against Kurt’s belly or hip, a silent question, can we? He asks with his body because he knows that the answer is yes, and Kurt will whimper against his throat and let Blaine’s leg between his and they don’t even talk about it, because it’s obvious how ready they both are.
And then off he goes.
Blaine has wanted to stop him for months, but every time he tries to interrupt the words dry up in his throat.
pureklaination wanted hot tub sex, and judearaya wanted fingering…these things combined rather nicely. Literally.
The thing about blowjobs, is that they seem simple at first. And then you try to give one, and they aren’t; even stroking someone feels weird the first time. Too dry? Am I hurting you? Lubricant; too much? Too wet? Not enough friction? Too fast, too slow? Not making noises, what the hell are you feeling? My mouth isn’t a Hoover and I have no idea what I’m doing? Your cock is big and I can’t fit it all in my mouth? How the hell do I keep my teeth out of the picture without making my lips go numb from friction? My jaw hurts? My nose is running because I’ve been unable to breathe out of my mouth because your cock is in it and it’s gross but I don’t want to stop? I have hair in my mouth and I’m not sure whether it’s mine or yours and I really need to stop and take it out but I don’t want to stop blowing you?
But then you start communicating, and then you start relaxing, and half a dozen blowjobs later you start to feel as if you’ve got the hang of it, and then half a dozen more and–if everything is going right–you feel like a blowjob master. Suddenly it all just seems to work–mostly because you’re relaxing and you have some experience.
They hold court on a leather sofa in the common room where Blaine and the Warblers had sung Teenage Dream to a wide-eyed and very unsubtle McKinley High spy.
The first thing that they do when the giddy rush of that first moment passes is to break down into a flurry of frantic admiration over each other’s outfits. Kurt’s fingers fly to the edge of Blaine’s lapel, motion to the bow tie, the shoes, high-pitched fashion commentary spilling from his lips as Blaine’s fingertips touch the rough texture of his jacket and he does the same.
“I knew,” Kurt admits, unable to stop smiling and gesturing and shaking, “I mean Santana wouldn’t tell me what you were planning on wearing but since you seemed so fond of yellow during our picnic, I thought maybe you’d go with that again to keep the theme going, and the purple worked so well for me, too, that–”
An AU where Kurt, a senior, never made any friends or joined Glee club and is still being bullied. Blaine takes over the club as a favor to Sam.
For those of you who are overdosed on baby and daddy fic and want a nice slab of smut-with-feels-and-a-cheesy-ending.
Warnings for: age difference, teacher/student relationship.
The first time that Blaine sees Kurt, he’s covered in cafeteria spaghetti and making a beeline for an exit while also carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone. Blaine’s first thought is oh, god, is that sweater Alexander McQueen? Travesty! This is, of course, before he can remind himself that he’s on lunch duty, even though he technically isn’t a teacher and is just doing Sam a favor taking over the Glee club while
Sam takes care of his mom.
had been one of the most upsetting conversations that they’ve ever
had, Sam calling Blaine up and asking him if he’d decided what he was
going to do with his performing hiatus, and then confessing that his
mom’s cancer prognosis hadn’t been good, and he knows that it’s a
huge inconvenience, but was there any way that Blaine could come home
to Ohio and supervise his kids until graduation? They hadn’t made it
through the last competition round, so all Blaine would have to do is
run the meetings and rehearsals and guide them through a few simple
performances, some on and some off campus.
yes had been a given—Sam is his best friend—but Blaine also has
to admit that the idea of recharging his teaching batteries during
downtime sounded appealing. He hadn’t realized, though, that the new
principal would expect him to fill all of Sam’s shoes—down to and
including covering detention, event chaperoning, and watching the
cafeteria at lunchtime.
“Well, this is nothing like the last time,” Blaine observes rather casually as Kurt slams a broom across the closet door, panting from the dash down the hall, gangling and uncoordinated because, well, he’s kind of graceless at times, but also because foam, and Blaine on his knees, and these things don’t combine very well. He sort of gets it against the doorknob, and sort of doesn’t, and neither of them care.
“Last time,” Kurt breathes, falling back against the particle board as Blaine kisses his hips frantically.
“In the warehouse, with the Warblers–”
“I remember last time,” Kurt says, shoving his fingers through Blaine’s hair. Blaine knows that he likes it this way, right now, because he can get to the scalp and draw Blaine in without digging through the usual gel crust and this means so many more seconds doing what they want to be doing. “I remember every second of last time.”
“Me too,” Blaine pants.
It’s kind of gross, because everything tastes like soap and also, he doesn’t care, like, at all, because he can see Kurt’s thigh hairs, and Kurt’s dick jutting sideways against the hip of his soaked pants, can see every ridge and dip and the head swollen up and he can’t think at all, even though half of their friends are like, three feet away.
Kitty!Kurt/human!Blaine. Warnings for: sex during “heat”, brief mentions of past abuse, brief size kink, brief conception kink (no actual conception).
Blaine is buying champagne when Rachel calls. The liquor store is crowded; he’s worried that if he puts his bottles down to answer her they’ll be grabbed up before he has a chance to defend them, so he cradles his phone between his jaw and shoulder and taps the accept button with his chin.
“You would not believe the acrobatics that I just managed to answer you with my face,” he says.
“You are amazing.” She pauses. “Dare I ask?”
He laughs. It wouldn’t be the first time that she’s interrupted him in the middle of something that had required the full dedication of all of his limbs. “I’m making a very hasty champagne purchase. Competition is fierce. Last minute party invitation.”
“Oh, do tell.”
“Nothing personal, just a director who I’ve been trying to get face time with.” He frowns. “I could try and swing the plus one angle if you’ve changed your mind about staying home with the in-laws.”
"No, thank you, darling. This is a business call, unfortunately. I didn’t want to bother you this close to the holiday, but I’m out of options. We had a stray dropped off five minutes before closing and I can’t take him. Howard’s parents are using the spare bedroom and his father is terribly allergic. Every single one of my other fosters are either out of town, hosting guests, or celebrating already.”
Like I've Never Seen the Sky Before (2/4) - Kurt/Blaine
Rating (overall, not necessarily in this part): NC-17
Summary: Blaine is a sixteen year old homeless runaway. Kurt is a twenty five year old Broadway performer. One afternoon Kurt quite literally stumbles over the poor boy on the street, accidentally beginning a relationship that’s more than complicated from the start.
Notes: This story is 100% complete and I’ll be posting a part a day for the next few days–it’s too long to post all at once and I don’t want to spam people’s dashes. Blaine is seventeen before the shenanigans start, which is the age of consent in NY, if that’s an issue for you. Also you can blame yanks02 for this one, too! Much of the structure of the story here came from her mind. :)
Warnings (overall, not necessarily in this part): age difference (not used as a kink in terms of the story, really), mention of Blaine’s Sadie Hawkins bashing, neglectful parenting, and one sex scene toward the end that contains very light spanking (the generic sexy bedroom roleplay kind).
Rachel’s schedule on opening night is such a mess that they don’t get to see her until after the show. Blaine is carrying the bouquet of roses that they’d brought for her, hidden partially behind them when they find her on the street.
The stage door experience had been brief–it’s just not that popular of a show yet and she is a relative unknown–but she’s still glowing and bouncing in her dangerously tall heels.
She throws herself into Kurt’s arms.
“You were amazing,” he says, grinning ear to ear.
“I know,” she replies, smiling dazzlingly at him. “But enough about me. Who have we here?”
Blaine holds out the flowers, smiling brightly.
He looks so wonderfully turned out in his tailored jacket and crisp pink dress shirt and skinny tie. Kurt had managed to get Blaine to let him really dress him for once, and the results have tested Kurt’s physical patience all night. He’s lost track of how often he’s reached for Blaine, only to stop at the last second to remind himself that they are not actually boyfriends.
Together again in NY, Blaine finds a dildo in Kurt’s shower and wonders if Kurt has been hiding his desire to bottom for Blaine’s sake–but the toy isn’t the only thing Kurt wants.
Warnings for: sex toy penetration and barebacking (tested and within a monogamous relationship).
“Is it the one with the yellow or the blue label? Wasn’t last year’s version blue?” Blaine asks, rifling through the top shelf of the rack in the bathroom.
“The yellow label. It’s the smaller one, though. Santana made off with the big bottle at some point, I think.”
That makes sense; Blaine is used to the shape of the larger bottle and the smaller one is still in the box, on top of that. He grabs it and turns, halfway out of the room when a large, dark shape just peeking out from the edge of the shower catches his eye.
It isn’t like him to snoop; if he lived here he might not be so concerned about peeking but he, Sam, and Artie have their own apartment across town and most of the time he’s fine with the arrangement. It’s given he and Kurt a chance to really do this getting back together thing correctly; start dating all over again from the ground up, with enough space and privacy to cope with all the ups and down, and with a great support system for Blaine on top of that.
But this is weird, and he just can’t help himself. He plucks the shower curtain to the side with one fingertip.
This is entirely pureklaination’s fault and also entirely her idea, so thank her for it! Or, you know, blame her. I blame her. It makes me feel better.
A D/S fic where Kurt and Blaine are forced to go through their Sickness together in a room that they can’t get out of. They have to have sex and engage in a scene or there will be medical consequences.
Featuring: Dalton!Klaine, bottom!virgin!Kurt/top!virgin!Blaine, barebacking (but with no canon threat of sexually transmitted diseases), spanking, light pain play, light restraint, oversensitivity/multiple orgasms, self-lubricating anal sex.
Warnings: there is obviously a situational dubious consent issue here. But I wouldn’t say there is a character-driven one. Consider that before reading, though.
“Since when do we rehearse in the storage room?” Blaine asks, looking bewildered.
Kurt, who is far more used to the pranks of public school, rolls his eyes and flops down onto an over-turned crate. “Blaine.” He inspects his nails and then looks around, nose wrinkling. “They’re messing with us.”
“They didn’t tell me that April Fool’s was a Warbler’s tradition,” he answers, looking more put out by that than the fact that they are locked in a storage room.
Kurt is cranky and hasn’t eaten dinner yet and he is very sure that there isn’t a single inch of sanitary space in this entire room.
It’s the last thing he intends to do that afternoon when he gets home.
Contrary to his age he’s actually quite reserved about it–he indulges at a healthy rate but when and how he chooses, not simply when his body insists (which is at least three or four times a day, if he’s being honest). He keeps his noise in check and doesn’t allow it to go on for too long. A steady, focused rhythm and a tissue in his right hand and it’s over in usually no more than five minutes, ten if he’s feeling adventurous.
But it’s hot. It’s hot and Kurt is coming over soon to work on his solo audition piece and there just isn’t time, though Blaine has been twitching and half-swollen all day.
He shrugs off his jacket when he gets up to his room, loosens his tie as he toes off his shoes and socks. He slides off his belt and pops the top two buttons on his shirt, then flops across cool sheets with a relieved sigh.