Work Text:
Fic: At The Tips Of Your Fingers
Media: Fic
Title: At The Tips Of Your Fingers
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: A little over 2200
Summary: A fill for this prompt over on the kink_meme. Just a little bit of random fingering and dirty, pointless porn.
A/N: I live in DC, and the entire city is simultaneously scrambling to figure things out and refreshing cnn.com for news about the shutdown and it's a bit tense here, is my point. So, naturally, I checked out of reality and hit the kink_meme. Unbetaed because my beta is one of those who's trying to pull together something resembling a plan today. Good luck to her!
It's midday on the Tuesday of the second full week of summer vacation and the sun is high outside.
All last week was one long celebration of the end of school and a binge, a glut, an orgy of being together, and this week is shaping up to fit the pattern. Finn's got freshman football boot camp for the first three weeks of the summer before he's set free, and with Carole and Burt out of the house all day, he and Blaine have had long, lazy days to themselves. Kurt's never envied Finn, really - they're too different for that to ever seem like a good idea - but at this point he's come to pity him a little. Finn spends all day trying to teach 14-year-olds to throw footballs through old tires. Kurt spends all day learning how his body fits together with Blaine's. Yeah, football players really have it made.
He and Blaine have spent their time making out on the couch, rubbing lazily together through their shorts. Most of Thursday was lost to their mouths all over each other, licking and sucking and stroking. Kurt had looked down once just as Blaine had dropped his head to suck at his balls, and he'd caught Blaine's eyes, bright gold and beautiful and so fucking happy as he licked long and wide over Kurt's sack and all the way up to the head of his dick. That afternoon they collapsed on Kurt's bed, eager to try 69ing, and neither of them had had any idea just how hard it would be to concentrate on something else when somebody was sucking your dick. Eventually they'd just taken turns, Kurt mouthing weakly at Blaine's dick while Blaine sucked him and grabbed at his ass, sinking his fingers into the meat of it and sliding down between his cheeks.
He'd whimpered then, shocked and thrilled at the feeling of Blaine's fingers brushing over his hole. Blaine readjusted his hold on his ass, sliding out to hold his hips a little more firmly, but somehow his fingers kept brushing back down to skirt over his hole and every time something hot fizzed in Kurt's belly. It was - god Blaine's mouth felt so good on his cock, so hot, and he'd started to suck long and hard and Kurt was coming before he could think about what he was feeling.
And he hasn't stopped thinking about it since. It's hard to know how to ask for it, though, how to say, "touch my asshole" in a way that's sexy and alluring, and he wasn't interested in a return to his baby penguin roots. He could think about it, could imagine Blaine touching him there and so much more, but the words were just... no.
Which is how he ends up here, face down and ass in the air.
This should be awkward, he should feel ridiculous. It had started that way, certainly. He'd left Blaine downstairs on the sofa while he'd wandered upstairs, put a bottle of lube on the beside table, piled up every pillow from around his room on top of his bed, and spread a towel out over them. He'd undressed and washed and draped himself over it, face buried in his old, familiar pillow, cock pressed hard against a rough towel, and ass in the air. He'd lain there for a minute, finding his breath, looking for unfaceable fears and potential regrets, and then he'd sent Blaine a text.
It's hard, lying there as he hears him come in, knowing Blaine is looking at him and too scared to peek for his reaction. Every time they go beyond kissing it's a little difficult; they still aren't used to it. They're good at it, or at least getting there, but it's new, and it feels illicit and the right kind of scary and so good, so damn good, but still - every time, every time an article of clothing comes off, he braces himself, just a little, for Blaine to withdraw.
He never does - no matter how much Kurt holds his breath and waits for the rejection to come, it never does, and this is no different. He hears Blaine's breath rush out of him the minute he crosses the threshold into his room, and then he hears Blaine close and lock the door.
The bed dips beside him, over near the nightstand, and Blaine's hand settles on his shoulder.
"Hey. Look at me."
He turns his head to the side, hoping that this wouldn't be the moment that Blaine would step away. But there he is, looking down at Kurt with a smile on his face.
"This was unexpected. Delightful and hot as hell, but... something of a surprise."
"Good surprise?"
"Fantastic surprise," he says, leaning down for a kiss. He pulles away, looking at Kurt's body and sliding a hand down to rest on his bare ass. Kurt shivers.
"I just need to... what do you want?"
And Kurt thanks his good luck at finding this boy, because that's a question he knows how to answer.
"Touch me," he whispers, and Blaine looks at him and breathes out, "yeah."
He kisses him once more, long and sweet, and then he's gone and Kurt returns to breathing into his pillow. He can feel his pillow warming from his breath, and the breeze from the open window is tickling the fine hairs on his bare ass, and then the bed shifts and one slick fingertip is slowly sliding down the crack of his ass. He catches his breath and holds it.
Blaine's finger is sure but gentle as he strokes over his hole, slow and careful. Kurt releases a long, shaky breath into his pillow and tries to relax as Blaine's finger passes over his hole again and again, applying just the tiniest bit of pressure, and he feels the muscles off his ass contract, tightening and releasing once, twice.
"Oh, Kurt," he hears Blaine breathe out behind him, and he feels Blaine drop a kiss at the top of his ass, just where it turns into his back, and suddenly it's okay.
"Do you ever do this to yourself?" Blaine asks.
Kurt turns his head to the side and says, "Not... not really. Only a little, lately."
"Yeah?"
"I never... before it always seemed too weird." Before, he thinks.
"What about now?" Blaine asks, tucking two fingers together and tracing small, firm circles around his hole and oh god, that. Kurt goes limp, squeezing his eyes shut and moaning out loud, because just that little bit of thickness and pressure feels so good, and he can't help shoving his hips forward, and the towel is rough against his dick.
"Fuck, Kurt," Blaine swears. "I do this, sometimes, just my fingers. I like it, too."
Kurt just moans, because what a delicious image.
"I wondered if you did. Sometimes I think about you like this, doing this to me, like it's your fingers instead of mine."
Blaine pauses for a moment and Kurt can feel another few squirts of lube landing at the top of his ass. Blaine slides his fingers up and he can feel how much more easily his fingers slip over his skin after that, strong circles and his fingers trailing all the way down to tease at his balls before they're coming back up, and Blaine is pushing.
Kurt makes a tiny grunt, he just can't help it, and Blaine pauses.
"No?"
"No - I mean, yes, go on. Do it," and he feels like an idiot, but this isn't something he'd been able to bring himself to do yet, like putting anything in his ass had been crossing a line he wasn't ready for yet, but this, here - this is good, he wants to try it.
Just the tip of Blaine's finger and he already feels full, but it's not wrong. Blaine strokes his side and pushes in further, and Kurt had been worried for nothing - it doesn't hurt, it's just a stretch. Blaine slides his finger back out and pushes in and, god, he's being fucked. The motion of it is unmistakable, the rhythm he sets up unavoidable, and Kurt lets go a little and lets himself think, "this is what it is to be who I am, this is what it will be like."
And it's not bad. It's a little weird, and he tries not to think about what he must look like as he starts to push back against it, until Blaine huffs out a breath and says "god, Kurt, your ass," and he sounds so amazed. "You just - I wish you could see."
He knows he blushes at that, feels the shame of it, but at the same time... it's just really hot, being seen like that, knowing that Blaine is watching his finger disappear into this private place and it's not in the dark, it's the middle of the afternoon on a regular Tuesday. He must be shameless, and it feels so fucking good.
Blaine palms his ass, slides his hand down to wrap it around his hip and follows Kurt through the motion of fucking himself on Blaine's finger. He squeezes Kurt's hip and says, "hey, wait a minute, I want to try something," and all of a sudden his finger is moving, pressing down and sliding and oh fuck.
It's not sharp arousal, not like he thought it might be, it's just a sudden blossom of heat, but it's enough to have Kurt moaning and pushing back to get Blaine to try it again, a little firmer this time. It's right on the knife's edge of too much, of becoming something he'll fall into and gladly plummet toward, but not yet. Not quite yet.
"Can I try another one?" Blaine asks, and he just nods.
More lube, and two fingers goes in more slowly - more stretch, a little burn, but it's fine, it's okay, and within moments he's back to pushing against it, eager for the sweet stretch and slide in and out of him. Blaine leaves him to just set that rhythm, and Kurt goes a bit hazy, just gently rocking back and forth.
He leaves the privacy of his pillow, turns his face to the side, toward his open window, and is glad once again that his bedroom doesn't face the street; he stares into the tangle of shiny green leaves and bright blue sky. It's quiet, just the windchimes from next door and the occasional bark of a dog, untrimmed branches scraping against the windows and the side of the house, his own breath coming harsher against the bedding, and the squelching slide of Blaine's fingers in his ass.
Blaine pauses and leans up over his back, dropping a kiss on his shoulder. "Hey. Did I lose you there?"
Kurt just smiles and closes his eyes while Blaine nuzzles against the side of his face. "No, I'm good. Just... drifting. Feels good. Feels really good."
He can feel Blaine's smile pressed against his cheek. "I'm glad," and then Blaine's gone again, back to watch and wait and play.
He presses another kiss to the cheek of Kurt's ass and pulls back, pressing his fingers down to brush against his prostate again. This time it's more, sharper, and god he feels so full, and he just grunts into it and keeps rocking. Blaine uses his other hand to trace around the rim of where he's pushing into Kurt, and the skin is pulled tight so that his hole feels huge, and he feels like he can feel each tense ridge of the pads of Blaine's fingers scraping, sliding slick against him, and he moans through it.
Blaine says, "God, I love you like this. I can't wait until you do it to me."
And it's a thought: Blaine, stretched out and flushed, his skin dark with it and his cries desperate. The things he wants to do to Blaine have always seemed hazy, indistinct, but he's been in a boot camp of his own since school let out and it's all starting to come together. He thinks, "soon," lets himself imagine what it will be like to make Blaine feel this good, how it will feel to have him stretched out on the tips of his fingers.
All that will come later, all that and more, because he feels Blaine's breath puffing hot against his ass and the wet slide of his tongue tracing where his other fingers had been. For now he just squeezes his eyes shut and pants into his pillow and pushes his hips back and says, "More. Give me one more."