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.
anon prompted: Kurt and Blaine making love while they’re on their sides
a/n: I found this way back in my saved prompts and it somehow turned into 4000+ words of really lazy drunk sex. Futurefic, barebacking, flimsy excuse for porn.
Whenever Blaine drinks his ambition for stupid, possibly hazardous activities grows.
It’s something Kurt’s used to by now, and he even finds it endearing, if draining, what with having to occasionally chase after him to keep him from doing anything that may fall into legal grey areas.
Last time they went clubbing he managed to get his thumb stuck inside an empty can and Kurt spent half an hour apologising profusely to the paramedic who had to be called to free him, while Blaine cheerfully questioned her at length on the details of her job.
Title: Streak Author: GlassParade (aka glitterdammerung) Pairing: Kurt and Blaine Rating: R Word Count: 3100 Summary: Cheerio Blaine, at Santana’s suggestion, recruits badboy Skank Kurt Hummel to help him put pink streaks in his hair. Things get a little out of hand. Or in hand, as it were. Requested by Cass. Author’s Note: Well, everyone has to write Cheerio!Blaine and Skank!Kurt at least once, right?
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 started with deliberately obvious notes on the fridge, ridiculous flirty one-liners put there for Santana more than anything. It started with trying to make her roll her eyes as violently as possible.
During the three months after Blaine moved to New York, into the Bushwick apartment, they would look up the cheesiest quotes and lines and leave them on post-it notes for her to see every morning before she could even reach coffee. Even with their busy schedule either Kurt or Blaine always managed to leave one under the charade of it being for the other, a romantic gesture they were actually in on.
After they got their own place, it stopped being a pretense.
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.
A/N: I’m too emotional to come up with a better title
“For the past few months I’ve had a lot of time to think about love. I grew up with a somewhat odd mix of action and romantic movies, from Rambo to the Music Man giving me pieces of what love was supposed to look like.
“Because that’s what love starts off as, doesn’t it? Something we hear and talk about and wait for and build up through movies and songs and the world around us. I have always loved musicals but I was never really ever sold on the love part.
“Maybe it’s because I never really identified with the heterosexual couples,” He pauses while everyone laughs. “But love never seemed… reasonable to me. I’ve always been a romantic but never the naive kind.”
Kurt takes a breath, laughs a little at Blaine’s valiant attempt not to let any tears fall and continues,
Kurt’s been in bed for ten minutes when he hears his door creaking open, one lamp still burning low on the windowsill of his tiny room in anticipation of Blaine’s arrival.
It’s become a nightly occurrence for Blaine to creep downstairs to Kurt’s quarters once the household has fallen quiet, servants and family asleep and fireplaces cold and grey. It’s risky. They both know that, and they both know that if Blaine were to be caught in Kurt’s bed there would be consequences for the both of them, and somewhat more dire ones for Kurt.
They’ve tried staying apart, if only for two or three nights a week, but Blaine always just ends up waking Kurt in the deep dark of early morning, toes cold on Kurt’s shins as he climbs under the sheets and curls into his side.
Warnings: Fluff and more ridiculousness. Also fluff.
Summary: Blaine has a nice smile.
A/N: Cass prompted “Blaine being asked to do toothpaste commercials.” This is absolute and pure crack.
It happens three times.
The first time is during his second week in New York, he’s just figured out how the bus system works when of course he gets on the wrong one and ends up having to take the final train back to Bushwick at 10pm.
During the whole trip the only other person in the wagon stares at him which is why he decides to call Kurt, both as a distraction from the creepy man with the intense gaze but mostly because he wants to, they didn’t have plans that evening but he still wishes he was home with him.
He tells Kurt as such which earns him a somewhat fond snort. Blaine smiles because he can picture everything Kurt does as he tells him about his day and by the time the train is a stop away his cheeks hurt a little.
Title: La Même Direction <— (AO3 link) Pairing: CrissColfer Rating/Length: PG-13/R (for swearing and vague sexual situations); ~4k Warnings: RPF, future!fic, post-Glee!fic Summary: Glee is over and there is finally time to take a break.
Another prompt, originally posted here. Reposting so that it can be rebloggable. :)
“Say Blaine had just gotten home from the swimming pool, doing laps or something, and was still a bit damp, hair starting to fizz and all pliant and warmed and Kurt just couldn’t handle the amount of hot his boyfriend was so he’s home alone and just sort of drops and Blaine’s like what…?”
“Swim practice ran late, are you already…?”
Kurt answers, “Yeah, is the spare key still…?”
“Yeah, fourth planter on the left. I’m just getting in my car, I’ll be there soon, okay?”
“Your parents aren’t home, are they?”
“Oh, no—just, get comfortable.” His voice is a little breathy.
Kurt can feel his cheeks heat up. He knows what that means by now, and his body is already very, very interested.