savvymavvy requested: double penetration (Kurt + dildo)
Warnings for: rimming, double penetration, allusions to fisting, and thongs.
See some lovely fanart for this here.
The apartment is stuffy, but not warm; it’s only April, after all. The windows aren’t open, though, and Kurt wonders why Blaine hadn’t taken care of that as he walks from window to window, lifting the panes.
It’s quiet. He tip toes to the bedroom, ducking his head just inside, and has to hold his breath at the view.
Blaine is sprawled out on his stomach sleeping, wearing a white tank top and the black thong that he often wears during dress rehearsals. He’s usually showered and changed by the time that Kurt gets home, so it’s rare to see him half undressed like this. He’s dead to the world, his gelled head flat on Kurt’s pillow.
Kurt breathes out, cheeks warm. The tight, smooth muscles across Blaine’s shoulders and back are all the more attractive for the thin casing of his tank top, which ends enticingly at his lower back. The dark cut of the thong between his beautifully round buttocks and the way his balls rest quaintly between his thighs within the small sack of material there makes Kurt’s heart race.
He reaches up and undoes the two top buttons on his shirt, stepping into the room. He kneels gently on either side of Blaine’s legs, then crawls on all fours until he reaches the head of the bed. He leans down, gently kissing the back of Blaine’s neck, letting his body come down against Blaine’s—warm back, smooth skin, the spring of his ass cheeks against Kurt’s trousers.
It takes several minutes of kissing his ears and neck and hair before he surfaces, sleepy and languid under Kurt.
"Kurt?" he breathes, pleasure at the back of his throat.
"Hey," Kurt replies, kissing the birthmark on Blaine’s shoulder. "Long rehearsal?"
"Yeah, I was—exhausted," Blaine sighs, stretching under Kurt’s weight. His back bends just a little, sending the curve of his ass against Kurt’s crotch. "God, Kurt."
"How tired are you?" Kurt asks, arousal dancing around playfulness as he begins kissing the edges of the tank top around Blaine’s arms and shoulders, loving how tight it is, loving the clean, compact cut of Blaine’s muscle contrasted against the few places he has that are soft with padding.
"N-not so much now," Blaine replies, voice catching.
Kurt traces warmth and softness all the way down Blaine’s back, thrilling as Blaine’s pelvis rises into his hands and mouth the lower he goes. The warm silence of the apartment rises around him, leaving his ears buzzing with empty noise as he breathes hot and fast against Blaine’s lower back.
He slides his fingers under the straps of the thong across Blaine’s waist, letting the elastic snap back against skin. Blaine gasps and Kurt tongues the skin beneath his mouth hungrily, choking off a noise that rises as he squeezes Blaine’s cheeks together and then apart, kissing the rise of one buttock and then the other.
"Oh, Kurt," Blaine whines, legs spreading, the muscles of his thighs tensing and trembling.
"Can we leave this on?" Kurt asks, dragging the tip of his tongue down one smooth cheek (there are times when he finds Blaine’s waxing excessive; this is not one of those times), feeling the heat radiate off of Blaine’s skin; he’s so hot, so turned on already, it’s almost too much.
Kurt pulls the center strap of the thong up, then pushes it aside, kissing Blaine’s tailbone with a soft smack, then pausing before dragging his tongue down Blaine’s cleft with careful deliberation.
"Kurt," Blaine gasps, "please.”
Kurt traces the pucker of Blaine’s entrance with his tongue, then kisses it, sucking the skin between his lips. His hands shake as they spread Blaine open, and his tongue lashes out, licks, flicks, and finally presses in hard enough to breach Blaine’s body.
"More," Blaine begs.
"Lubricant, honey?" Kurt asks, and Blaine is fumbling in the bedside drawer before he even finishes asking.
He doesn’t reach for it right away, though. The salty, musky crinkle of Blaine’s entrance is such a temptation; he kisses and licks it and spears it with his tongue until Blaine’s crevasse is slick with saliva and Blaine’s hips are churning on the bed. The shifted aside thong strap is cutting into his cheek and Kurt stares blatantly at it, enthralled, as Blaine’s erection begins to peek out of the confines of the thong’s netting.
"Taste good, so good,” Kurt breathes, wet, indecent noises rising around his mouth as he sets his jaw and digs in hard, harder.
The temptation to involve his fingers grows, though, he can’t deny it, and as he massages Blaine’s cheeks and thighs while he uses his tongue, he slowly allows them to creep closer and closer to the prize until his thumbs and the pads of his fingers are rubbing alternate strokes with his lips and tongue, catching on Blaine’s soft, eager hole.
Blaine is whimpering and rocking back into him, clutching a pillow to his cheek.
One finger slips in with absolutely no resistance, and Blaine clamps down around it and sobs.
"Don’t stop," he moans.
A second finger takes a moment longer, but Blaine is so wet and loose that it’s almost shockingly easy to add a third and finally a fourth, and at this Blaine rolls his hips back into Kurt’s fingers, panting and moaning, nothing but the wet noise of his body being opened and their frantic breathing to layer with the silence.
It’s all Kurt can do to not simply gawk as Blaine begins writhing back onto his hand; he recalls those one or two times when they’d actually—when he’d actually gotten his whole hand inside, when Blaine had begged and begged until he’d given in—what it had felt like to watch his whole fist churning Blaine open, Blaine sobbing, how hard he’d come—
“Kurt,” Blaine chokes out. “Please, now? Now, I need—”
Kurt shifts up to his knees, his pants whispering across the fabric of the sheets as he hastily undoes them and strips them and his underwear off. His shirt is unbuttoned but he just lets it hang as he smooths two hands over Blaine’s ass and hips, peeling the thong off of his cock and balls, pushing aside the thong strap that keeps falling back in between Blaine’s cheeks stubbornly,
He slicks his cock with lubricant and dribbles some down onto Blaine and pushes inside—Blaine is so worked open that it’s effortless—with a low, satisfied hum under his breath.
"Oh, god, yes," Blaine moans. He moves to sit up on his knees, but Kurt presses him down into the bed.
"No," Kurt gasps, pulling out and then pushing back in, again, and again. "No. Stay there."
Blaine wraps his hands around one of the bars that make up the headboard of the bed. The muscles of his arms and shoulders all bunch up at once with the motion and Kurt groans, pushing inside of him again.
"K-Kurt." Kurt knows that tone, and isn’t surprised when Blaine continues, "Can—more, please? I just—"
"Pick what you’d like," Kurt breathes, anticipation making it hard to keep a rhythm; his sweaty fingers slide across Blaine’s straining hips as Blaine selects a medium-sized toy from the drawer, a slender shaft with a thick base, and Kurt takes it from him. "Talk to me, okay?" This isn’t something to rush into, but Blaine is so loose around him that he knows it won’t be an issue, at least at the start.
"God, yes, I—Kurt, please."
He’s shaking as he edges the head of the toy inside of Blaine, just atop his own cock; he pulls out again, adds more lubricant, lines things up more cleanly, and then sinks back in, so slowly that it’s easy to take the time to watch as his cock and the dildo stretch Blaine’s pinkish brown rim wide open. It looks as if it should hurt, but Blaine is a gibbering mess of satisfaction on the bed. Kurt continues to ask him if he’s okay and each time he babbles an affirmative.
The hard press of the toy certainly doesn’t make it easy for Kurt to last; the added friction and pressure only pushes him along, and he has to clamp down on the edge of his own orgasm several times as Blaine rocks back onto him with every forward thrust. He loves it when they meet in the middle that way; such a literal give and take.
"Do you want me to touch you?" he asks, panting, so close that it hurts.
"No," Blaine gasps. "No, I’m—almost there. Almost there, Kurt, god, so good, it’s so good, baby, just keep doing that. Just keep doing that, okay? Right there. Going to—going to—oh, oh—oh god. So much it’s so much—”
He’ll never get over Blaine being able to come just from this, and even then it takes him by surprise, Blaine clamping down around him and the toy, the muscles of his ass and thighs flexing; he’s shooting all over the bed but all Kurt can see is his body clenching red and wet and abused and open and the black straps of the thong biting lines into his brown skin.
Kurt comes somewhere during this, lost to the warm waves of sensation sapping every muscle he has of the strength to keep him upright. It feels like everything and nothing all at once when it’s over, so much and yet never enough. It’s never enough with Blaine.
Blaine shakes for a while, and it takes even longer for him to relax enough for Kurt to pull the toy and then himself out safely. He strokes Blaine’s warm skin, breathing, just breathing, and then lies down at his side, gently curling up against his back. He stares down at Blaine’s spread body.
He can’t help but slide his fingers down between Blaine’s legs, feeling the softened stretch of his entrance slick with Kurt’s release as it trickles out of his body. He pushes three fingers gently up and inside, wanting to feel it. Blaine gasps and shakes and rubs himself against the sheets as Kurt draws this last minute exploration out until it’s too much.
"Okay?" he asks, removing his fingers and burying his face in Blaine’s hair.
"I love you," Blaine breathes, overwhelmed.
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