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Kurt’s not sure how Santana convinced him to go to this thing. Gay hookup parties aren’t exactly his normal scene. He prefers quiet piano bars and coffee shops, not...not this giant excuse for what is basically an orgy,if what she says is right.
But they’d had a few shots of tequila at home, and instead going to a gay bar, they’re going to this party that Santana’s latest conquest is attending. And Kurt is just walking along behind Santana, up out of the subway, and into a trendy hotel in Manhattan.
“This is a classy gig, okay?” Santana says as they approach a set of elevators. “It’s being thrown by some rich boy who’s apparently tossing these shindigs all over the place, and only the hottest get in. So try to keep your mouth shut and let your ass do the talking, okay?”
“Thanks, Santana,” Kurt grits out, quickly sobering as the elevator rises and his stomach drops.
The doors open to a foyer that’s filled with stylishly dressed, beautiful people. Kurt’s thankful Santana coaxed him into wearing some of his best, because if he’d shown up in his boyfriend jeans and hoodie, no matter how fashionable it may be, he would’ve been kicked out. But now he’s here in black cigarette slacks, a tight, dark green waistcoat, and a starched button-up with a textured black tie and a fancy silver-and-emerald tie clip that Carole got him for his last birthday. His hair’s swept up, he’s got his ass-kicking boots on--he feels ready to face anything.
A large man steps up to them when they enter, with an actual clipboard.
“Names?”
“We’re not on that list, sweetheart,” Santana drawls, smirking. “But go tell Leta that Santana is here with the promised man candy.”
The man raises an eyebrow, but he turns and goes into the mass of people chattering and dancing and drinking their night away. Within moments, there’s a squeal, and a curvy red-head with a great smile hurries forward and tugs Santana into a hug.
“You came!” she laughs. She looks over at Kurt. “Oooh, man candy indeed. What is he?”
“Check the wrist,” Santana says, and Kurt glares at her.
“Excuse me?”
“Why do you think I told you to wear that?” Santana asks, pointing at Kurt’s leather cuff, positioned tightly on his left wrist. “It doesn’t go with your outfit.”
Kurt hadn’t questioned after the third tequila, and didn’t remember until now that he was wearing it. He glances down, and then grimaces.
“What kind of party is this really, Santana?”
Santana pets Leta’s hair and gives her temple a kiss.
“I want you to go get me and my friend here drinks, babe,” she says, her voice firm and commanding. “You know what I like. Man candy will have a whiskey ginger.”
When she’s gone, Kurt turns on Santana.
“Did you bring me to a scene party?”
Santana smiles at him sweetly.
“What the hell, Santana?” he hisses. “You know I stopped doing this--”
“Only because your last boy toy was about as vanilla as a latte--”
“I only did it because of a boy toy in the first place--”
“And you were never happier,” Santana snaps. “Even though Stanleywas ten times more interesting when you had him gagged as when you let his mouth flap. This is who you are, Kurt. You shouldn’t deny that, because there’s nothing wrong with it. So look around, play the game, find a sub, and drink your goddamn whiskey--”
“I like a man who can take his whiskey.”
Santana and Kurt both turn to see the new voice, Kurt with a cynical eyebrow and Santana with a glaring smile.
“Not your type, Smythe,” she says. “Maybe you should stop checking out his ass and check out his wrist instead.”
“Pity,” the man says. “I’d’ve liked to play with him.”
Kurt doesn’t feel the least bit of attraction to the tall, slender man, so he’s not inclined to agree. He’s about to open his mouth to say so, but Leta returns, drinks in hand. She hands Santana what looks like a brandy, and Kurt takes his whiskey ginger and sips it...well, gingerly. But it tastes pretty damn good, so he takes a bigger mouthful and, as Santana and Leta are currently wrapped up in each other in a manner that Kurt doesn’t particularly want to watch, turns to Smythe.
And what kind of name is that?
“My friend here neglected to tell me just what game we might be playing,” Kurt says, keeping his voice cool. “I’m guessing this isn’t just a simple party, if you have an entire floor rented out.”
“Sebastian Smythe never throws just a party,” Sebastian--better than just Smythe, anyway--sneers, apparently going for pleasant. “This is for the New York elite to blow off some steam. My games are famous in the scene--I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them.”
“I’ve been out of the loop for a while,” Kurt says with sugary venom. Sebastian grins at him--which is good. He was half-worried he’d read the guy wrong, but apparently he’s about as subtle as Santana about what kind of people he’ll respect. “Consider this my reintroduction.”
“Lucky man, then,” Sebastian says. “I invite only the finest subs. Only one newcomer here tonight, and I invited him special.”
Sebastian points over to a small, dark man about their age, black hair in slick waves, a bowtie round his muscular throat. He’s got the best ass Kurt’s ever seen, but that’s about all he can see, the way the guy’s facing.
“He went to my high school. Never could get him to go out with me--he was holding out for a Prince Charming.”
“And now he’s looking here?”
“Well, let’s just say he thought he found one, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. So I invited him here to try his hand at something new. If I could get away with it, I’d take him to a room right now, but the rules don’t bend for anybody. Even me.”
“So what are the rules?” Kurt asks, wariness growing by the second as an antique grandfather clock strikes the hour, and the chatter starts to die away.
“You’ll see,” Sebastian says. “That was my cue.”
He slips away, and Santana ambles up to him, wiping lipstick from the edge of her mouth.
“Let the games begin,” she murmurs, and Kurt eyes her.
“You’re not allowed to watch movies anymore. None.”
“There’s the Dom I know.”
“Attention, friends,” Sebastian calls. The party goes silent. “If I could ask you to separate, please. Doms on the left, subs on the right.”
The room shifts. Kurt, already on the left side of the room, stays where he is, watching with as much of an air of disinterest as he can. He notes Sebastian’s virgin heading uncertainly to the right, looking around as though waiting for someone to instruct him. Oh, yes, he’s definitely a sub, with those wide, questioning eyes--
Kurt blinks. No. He’s not even sure he’ll be playing, he shouldn’t get ideas--
Santana is staring at him, too. He turns his eyes up front.
“Perfect,” Sebastian says. “Now let’s explain the rules.”
He waves, and two of the waiters that had been circling with hors d'oeuvres set their trays down and grab two shiny bowls each from a side table, one black and one white to each waiter. It’s impossible to see inside them, but several people crane their heads anyway.
“The subs will approach one by one and select a card,” Sebastian announces, gesturing to the waiter with the bowl on the sub side. “There will be a room number on the front of the card. The key you select will open that room and that room only. Once inside, you will find a kit with your instructions. Line up by gender--male identified take from the black, female identified from the white.”
The subs line up. Kurt notices the Virgin hesitantly sliding in at the end of the line, and almost misses Santana slipping up to Leta and whispering something in her ear.
“What was that?” Kurt asks, when she returns.
“Giving my sub permission to fool around with whoever gets her room number,” Santana explains, but Kurt gets the feeling she’s lying from the way her eyes twinkle. “Naturally.”
“Naturally,” Kurt agrees suspiciously, his eyes drifting to see Leta dropping back to the back of her line, saying something quietly to Blaine, smiling broadly at him.
There’s a conversation between them, but Kurt can’t read their lips from this distance--but he’s not entirely sure he likes what’s going on, if Santana is the puppetmaster of it all. Not that there’s anything he can do.
The subs both select their cards, and walk out together, chatting quietly. When they’re gone, Sebastian turns to the Doms.
“What do you say we make ‘em wait a little while?”
There an appreciative chuckle, and Sebastian says something to the waiter, who sets the bowls down, and then ambles to the bar, chatting with another Dom who approaches, and ordering them both drinks. Santana turns to Kurt and grins at him.
“I know you had your eye on Bowties back there.”
“Santana, what does it matter?” Kurt asks. “It’s a game of chance.”
“Everything’s a game of chance,” Santana says, “unless you load the dice.”
Kurt narrows his eyes.
“What did you do?”
“Finish your drink.”
Kurt takes her suggestion, savoring the last burn of the liquor before setting his glass down on a table.
“Santana--”
“Shut up and take what I give you, lady lips,” Santana snaps, glaring at him. “I’m doing this because I care. You didn’t even speak to that guy and you were looking at him like he was your perfecting fucking prince. So have fun with him, and make sure you slip him your number afterward, because he won’t know who the hell you are.”
Kurt can’t even ask what that means, because Sebastian is back up front, waving the waiter away from picking up the bowls.
“Enough sweating for the subs,” he says. “Come on, get your cards, right off the table. No need for a show now. Your sub will be waiting for you. Safewords are standard, but the only other rule you get is that you have to leave the blindfold on. Keep ‘em guessing.”
There’s a laugh, and then everyone lines up to go the bowls. Santana grabs Kurt’s arm and slows them down, leaving them til last. Even Sebastian goes in ahead of them--the only ones left in the room with them are the waiters and the bouncer.
The waiter stands over the bowls on the table before him, his hands on the edge of each one. Kurt stick his hand into his bowl--
Nothing.But just as he starts to draw his hand back, a card drops onto the back of his hand.
He looks up, and the completely blank look he receives in return is tell enough. He grabs the card and pulls his hand out like nothing is amiss, trying hard not to smile when he sees Santana circle the table and slip a bill in the back pocket of his ostentatious uniform.
“You’re welcome,” she says when Kurt looks at his card, a black number seven on its face. “Now...I’m going to go fuck my girlfriend. I suggest you start planning what you’re gonna do to your brand new hobbit.”
She slips into room 2 with a wink, leaving Kurt completely alone in the hall. He walks up until he sees his number, and then pauses.
Once he goes through, that’s it. He’ll be a Dom again, he’ll have to take care of a sub. And not just any sub--someone brand new to the lifestyle, he’ll be someone’s first Dom. That’s a lot of responsibility, and yes, Kurt is incredibly attracted to the man on the other side of the door. It was an instant draw the likes of which Kurt’s never experienced, and he can’t explain it at all. That kind of lack of control is nerve-wracking, and he doesn’t want to be feeling that when he needs to be in top form.
So he can go in, and do his best. Or he can leave now, stay in this zone of comfort he’s retreated to, and leave this poor, beautiful sub sitting there, abandoned.
He unlocks the door.
The room is sleek and comfortable. And, apparently, fully stocked. At the foot of the bed is a black gift box, and Kurt’s certain that supplies and toys are contained inside by the way it sits at the sub’s feet.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his ankles crossed, hands in his lap, his head hanging down. He’s chewing at his lip, his head lifted and turned when Kurt walks in. His eyes, though, are covered with a black cloth.
“Hello?”
His voice is pretty, smooth and pleasant, though a bit timid. Kurt smiles.
“Hello,” he replies. “What’s your name?”
The sub smiles faintly.
“Blaine.”
“Hello, Blaine. I’m Kurt.”
“Hi, Kurt,” Blaine says. “Um--is there...something else I should call you?”
“You can just call me by my name,” Kurt replies. “Unless the inspiration should strike you otherwise.”
“Okay. Um.”
“Are you okay, Blaine?” Kurt asks, unable to hold it back anymore. “I heard that you were new to this--”
Blaine laughs.
“Yeah. I--I think Sebastian wanted to get me for himself. So I couldn’t complain.”
“You can always complain, Blaine,” Kurt insists. He sits down on the bed next to Blaine, and Blaine turns his head, tensing a little bit. “You know that, don’t you? You can safeword at any time. Even if you want to do it right now. If you aren’t comfortable with this situation, it is perfectly okay to say so.”
Blaine takes a deep breath.
“I do want to do this,” he says. “I...I did some research after the first time Sebastian tried to get me to come to one of these. It sounded fun, but I was in a relationship at the time, and my boyfriend wasn’t comfortable with it. But...we’re not together anymore. So I thought I’d seize the opportunity.”
“Try something a little wild, huh?” Kurt teases.
Blaine snickers. “Yeah. I guess I went kinda far on that, huh?”
“There are few places beyond this, I think.”
“Might as well make it worth it.”
Blaine’s smile is beautiful. Kurt wishes he could see Blaine’s eyes.
“Do you--do you want to keep that blindfold on?” he asks. “I know the rulessay you have to, but it’s just us in here.” Blaine fidgets, and Kurt instantly adds, “Whatever you want is fine.”
“I think I’d like to keep it,” Blaine says. “I just...I feel like I shouldfollow the rules. If I’m going to be a sub, I should learn to obey, right?”
Kurt blinks, studying Blaine, and then smiles.
“It doesn’t alwayswork like that, but I suppose I see where you’re coming from,” Kurt says. “Just promise me, if you do end up wanting to turn this into a regular thing for you, that you’ll talk to an experienced sub? If you just take advice from Doms, especially ones who want you for themselves, they could easily take advantage.”
“Do you know Sebastian well?”
“No,” Kurt replies. “Just met him tonight. Would he not do that?”
“No, he would,” Blaine says with absolute certainty. “I just wondered if you were that good at guessing or if you knew the whole time.”
“He’s not exactly a hard read.”
“No.” Blaine rubs his palms on his pants, and Kurt reaches out instinctively, gripping his near wrist.
“Don’t,” he says gently. “It’s okay to be nervous. But don’t ruin your pants, that would be a shame.”
Blaine blushes, lowering his head.
“Sorry,” he says meekly, and Kurt squeezes his wrist reassuringly before releasing him.
“It’s okay,” Kurt says. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
He stands, and steps in front of Blaine, lifting his chin so that their faces are pointed at each other, if they can’t make eye contact.
“Are you willing to submit to me, Blaine?”
Blaine visibly shivers, his mouth dropping open a little bit at Kurt’s tone. He’s shifting into Dominant mode now, drawing his body up taller, wider, lifting his chin and letting the power he keeps in reserve flow through him. He’s not holding back now--he’s completely in charge, and he wants to make sure Blaine can feel it even if he can’t see a thing.
“Yes,” Blaine whispers, barely a breath. But it’s enough.
“Good.”
Kurt leans down and kisses him, light and teasing, barely brushing their lips. Blaine whimpers and opens his mouth in invitation, but Kurt doesn’t take it.
“You have to earn that, Blaine,” he says, pulling back. Blaine’s breath in is shaky, and Kurt hums, pleased. “Don’t worry, it’s your first time. We’ll go easy.”
Kurt steps back, pushing the box out of the way with his foot.
“I want you on your knees.”
Blaine instantly drops down, hitting the floor with a muted thud. Kurt almost winces in sympathy, but Blaine seems completely fine.
“Good boy,” he praises, and Blaine smiles, bright and happy. Kurt smiles back, kind of glad Blaine can’t see him--he can give in a little bit, not keep a perfect demeanor. “Now. I want you to get undressed--while you’re doing it, I want you to tell me your safewords and limits.”
“Red to stop,” Blaine begins, quickly undressing, shuffling around to get everything off. “Yellow to pause. Green to continue. My limits are on the card on the top of the stuff in the box.”
Kurt raises an eyebrow, a little displeased that Blaine didn’t just answer his question, but he checks out the box first, allowing Blaine to wiggle out of his pants and underwear in silence. There’s a card inside, with typed instructions on the top.
State your limits for tonight’s Dom, and write requests on the other side of this card.
Blaine’s limits are pretty standard. He doesn’t want any of the really hard kinks, no fluids or intense roleplaying or extensive pain play. Kurt’s both surprised and actually pleased that, under soft limits, he’s written deep throating and bottoming. However, he does have spanking/flogging on his list of wants, as well as teasing/edging and dirty talk.
“Would you like to be the one doing the dirty talk, or do you prefer to hear it?” Kurt asks.
“I--I don’t know,” Blaine admits. “I’ve never really done it before either way. I just think...it would be nice. I...I fantasize about it.”
And that’s when Kurt gets the perfect idea.
He looks down at Blaine, kneeling, naked, half-hard. So pretty--his waist is trim, his shoulders broad, and he’s got a little belly that Kurt wants to explore at length. In fact, he wants to explore all of Blaine’s body. But that will happen in time.
He crouches down in front of Blaine and grips his chin again.
“Thank you for being honest with me,” Kurt says. “And thank you for being honest on your card. It took courage to write that you don’t want to bottom or deep throat.”
“I’m sorry,” Blaine blurts. “I know I should be okay with it--”
“There is no should, Blaine,” Kurt interrupts. He smiles at himself--he’s using Blaine’s name a lot, but hopefully it serves the purpose of calming the sub rather than just feeling good on his tongue. Like the rest of him will--“I don’t need you to deep throat me, and I don’t need you to bottom for me. Any Dom that demands that isn’t worth the title--this is about what’s okay for both of us. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Blaine breathes, apparently relieved. Kurt leans forward and kisses him.
It’s full-on this time. He doesn’t hold back, kissing hard, taking over and sucking Blaine’s top lip into his mouth. He takes Blaine’s face in his hands, and hums in pleasure when Blaine grabs his face as well. He likes his subs to be able to do things, to trust him to put them in place if they misstep. Too many subs are scared to do anything, and Kurt likes that Blaine feels comfortable enough to do things he likes rather than trying to make it all about Kurt.
“Was that okay?” Blaine pants, when Kurt pulls back. “I’m sorry, I--”
“Whatever you read, Blaine?” Kurt says. “Forget it. Do the things you want to do. If you go wrong, I will tell you.”
Blaine smiles. “Thank you, sir.”
Kurt bites his lip at the title, and gives Blaine another hard kiss.
“That sounds so good,” he whispers. “I think we’ll try having you talk tonight.”
Blaine nods, his body trembling, fully hard now, his cock sticking out between his legs, curving up. Kurt wants to touch it, but he’s got a plan, and he’ll see it through. It’ll only make things better.
“Stand up, and lie down on the bed, face down. Is there anywhere on your body that my mouth would be unwelcome?”
Blaine scrambles up eagerly and spins, feeling his way to the bed and crawling onto it with no attempt at grace whatsoever. Kurt almost laughs, his heart swelling with it--it’s adorable and sexy, the way he doesn’t even care if he’s being alluring. He’s just so ready, so turned on, and Kurt presses the heel of his hand into his own hard on, biting his lip as Blaine settles down, spread before him, muscles of his back on display, tapering to his stunning ass and down to strong thighs.
Kurt wants allof it.
“No.”
“Hm?”
“No, there’s nowhere...unwelcome. You can put your mouth everywhere,please--”
Kurt rocks into his hand, unable to stop himself from doing just that little bit. Blaine sounds so desperate.
“Okay. I will.”
He crawls onto the bed and straddles over Blaine’s thighs, his clothed body barely touching Blaine’s, and Blaine whimpers.
“Are you still wearing all your clothes?” he asks breathlessly, and Kurt leans down and kisses the top of his spine, letting him feel the fabric of his clothes over his bare body.
“Yes, I am,” Kurt says, and Blaine rocks down into the bed.
“Oh, god,that’s so hot.”
Kurt chuckles, and then sits back up, making sure to keep as little contact as he can.
“I want you to tell me about your fantasies,” Kurt says. “For every fantasy you tell me, I will explore one part of your body with my mouth and hands. The more details you give, the more I will pay attention to the spot I’m on.”
This gives Blaine just a little bit of control, and lets Kurt know the kinds of touches he likes best unequivocally. Blaine can decide if he wants to keep Kurt somewhere or move on--it’ll keep him on his toes, and Kurt has one more trick up his sleeve to ensure it.
“But if you stop talking,” Kurt adds, “and you don’t move on to the next fantasy, or tell me more about the one you’re on, you will be punished. Is that understood?”
Blaine whimpers again, nodding.
“I need an answer, Blaine.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kurt kisses the top of his spine again. “Good boy. Number the fantasies as you go. You may begin.”
Blaine takes a deep breath, and Kurt pulls back and listens carefully. If tonight goes well, he wants to remember what he hears.
“One,” Blaine begins, and Kurt immediately starts kissing up Blaine’s left arm, caressing it gently in his hands. “I have a fantasy that I’m with two men. Two.”
Kurt almost laughs. Apparently Blaine’s arms do nothing for him, so he decides to challenge Blaine, moving to his other arm.
“I have a fantasy that I am made to perform on stage naked. Three.”
Kurt moves to his back, kissing down his spine, and Blaine starts speaking slower, drawing it out. Kurt grins against his skin, kneading the muscles all the way down to just above his ass.
“I--I have a fantasy that I’m in a dark room, alone. And someone starts speaking, but I can’t see them, they aren’t even in the room. But they’re watching me, and they tell me how to touch myself. They talk me through it--I have this fantasy all the time, I imagine it’s happening when I’m at home in bed. They tell me to stroke my chest, and my hips, and my ass, and they don’t let me touch my cock until I’m ready to beg. And then they make me take it slow. Four.”
Kurt knows Blaine expects him to go to his ass, so he slips down and starts playing with his legs, starting at the calves and working up to his thighs.
“Unh. I have a fantasy that my Dom makes me go to work with his come in my mouth. I have to go the whole day without saying a word, or everyone will see that I have his come all over my tongue. And I can’t swallow it. Five.”
Kurt can feel his eyes widening with every word. Blaine’s a little bit into humiliation, then. Or at least he’s very much into comeplay. Either way, Kurt won’t find out right this second--he moves to the other leg, immediately sucking a mark into the back of Blaine’s thigh, which falters his words.
“I--I have a f-fantasy that--oh--that my Dom spends hours painting my body with--with edible paints. He makes all kinds of drawings, touching me everywhere, and then he licks it off as slowly as possible. Six.”
He almost squeals out the number, because Kurt’s hands are gripping his ass, feeling the muscle and the fat and the skin in his hands, squeezing and spreading and massaging. His hips back up, and Kurt can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t like bottoming if he seems to eager to be touched, to be rimmedhere. Maybe he doesn’t get it--
“Please--please put your mouth on me--”
Or maybe he does. Kurt hums lightly.
“You aren’t telling me your fantasy,” Kurt says. “Remember what I said?”
“I’m sorry, I have a fant--”
Smack.
“Oh, fuck--”
“One smack for each time you are punished. Meaning next time, you’ll get two. Then three, then four, and so on. Continue now.”
“I--I have a--oh, Kurt--”
Smack. Smack.His hands comes down on Blaine’s ass, first one side, then the other, making his cheeks bounce and redden. He doesn’t hold back--but Blaine seems to like the sting, moaning and rocking back and forth, feet scrabbling on the bed for some kind of leverage.
“Your fantasy, Blaine.”
“I have a fantasy that I’m kneeling,” Blaine groans. Kurt immediately dives in, kissing his hole, dirty and wet, tongue and lips and thumbs pulling his cheeks apart. “I’m--I’m kneeling, and I’m tied up. And I can’t move at all, I’m totally bound. And my Dom makes me watch as he fucks someone else, makes them beg and call him Master, makes them come again and again and again and I can’t come at all--”
“You want the other sub to bottom?” Kurt asks, pulling back to breathe, stroking over the skin of his hole lightly, not even hinting at penetration, but keeping him stimulated. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Blaine seems to realize why Kurt’s asking, because he immediately explains.
“I don’t want to neverbottom,” Blaine says. “I just--I only want to do it with someone I’m...I’m in a claim with. A relationship. I don’t want to bottom with someone I don’t trust completely. It’s...it’s really vulnerable, and the one time I did it during a hookup, I felt awful afterward. It’s just too much, with a stranger--”
“I understand, it’s okay,” Kurt soothes, kissing him again, drawing out more moans. “But you don’t have a problem with topping a stranger?”
“Not if they’re okay with it,” Blaine gets out, between quick breaths. “It’s not as scary for me, I guess. Not as--as intense.”
“That’s okay,” Kurt says. “Continue.”
“I--I want my Dom to fuck that sub. I want him to talk about how the sub feels, and how good they are. I want to be desperate for my Dom to fuck me instead. And then, when the sub can’t take anymore, my Dom lets them go, and they get to watch as my Dom fucks me, and it’s so much better, and we know each other, and we come together and don’t even notice when the other sub leaves. Seven.”
Kurt pulls back, wiping his mouth on his arm quickly before urging Blaine to turn over. He skips the arms and legs this time, eager to keep going, and instead starts leaving hickeys on Blaine’s chest as he speaks.
“I have a fantasy that my Dom makes me come in my pants in a public place, like a restaurant. Y--he puts a vibrator inside me, and he keeps making it go higher and higher until I just come all over myself, all inside my pants, and then he keeps it going, makes me keep feeling it til I have to leave the table. And--and he times me. However long I last...that’s how long I get to worship him that night. Eight.”
Kurt slips down, and he ignores Blaine’s cock, going for his balls instead.
“I--oh, I--I--I can’t--”
Kurt pulls back, lifts Blaine’s legs up toward his shoulders, and exposes his ass. He lays three smacks across his ass, relishing his cries before dropping him back down and spitting out, “Continue,” before he goes back to suckling Blaine’s balls back into his mouth.
“I--I have a fantasy,” he trembles. “A fantasy. That. Um. That my Dom lets me fuck him from behind, but he tells me exactly how to move and won’t let me come til he has two or three times. Nine.”
Kurt grins at Blaine’s desperation, and slithers up, starting to worship his neck and face instead. Blaine all but sobs, body rocking up for friction as Kurt kisses his cheek and drags his nails down his neck.
“I have a fantasy,” Blaine continues, his voice high and thready now, “that my Dom ties me up and spanks me. Paddles me, flogs me. I don’t care. I just...he hits me, he marks up my back and legs and ass. And...and he ignores my safeword. He pushes me, and he won’t let me tell him to stop. He just keeps going.” Kurt kisses him so, so gently, lips dragging over his cheeks, kissing over his eyes beneath the blindfold, his nose, his forehead, his lips between words. “And then, when he’s ready, he comes all over my bruises and then makes me come just by talking to me. I--I don’t even know what he’d say, I just want his voice to make me come while I can’t even move. Ten.”
Kurt lifts off of Blaine, not speaking a word, and Blaine starts to babble.
“Please, sir, please I’ve been good,” he says, and Kurt moves quickly to the box, finding what he’s looking for as quietly as possible. “Please let me come. Or you come. Something, I need someone to come, please sir--”
As fast as he can, hopefully before Blaine can figure out what’s going on, Kurt rips open the foil and pulls out the condom, rolling it down onto Blaine’s straining cock. Blaine moans so loudly, he’s sure anyone around them could hear it, even if he hasn’t heard anyone else at all, the whole time. But the sound bounces off of the walls, rings in Kurt’s ears, and it’s perfect, Blaine has been so good--
“Give me the best fantasy you’ve got,” Kurt demands, and then sucks Blaine’s dick between his lips.
“I have a fantasy,” Blaine says, and he can barely get the words out now, with how hard and fast he’s breathing. Kurt looks up, and his hands are in his own hair, his legs are flexing and stretching on either side of Kurt’s body, his stomach muscles are jumping, and he must be so close. “I want my Dom to...to blindfold me and make me--make me lie down and talk about my fantasies, while he--while he touches me, and kisses me, and--unh, unh!--sucks me, yessss. And I can’t even see him but I know he’s there and that he wants me, and then I want him to fuck me while he’s still fully clothed, oh fuck--”
Kurt barely registers that Blaine is suddenly coming in the condom, hot and fast against the roof of Kurt’s mouth, only latex between him and the taste he really wants. He sucks hard a few more times, letting Blaine buck and writhe and cry out at the feeling, and then pulls off.
He needs to come himself--he was paying such close attention to Blaine, he almost forgot the tightness of his own cock against his pants, and he’s about to come right inside them, and that is not acceptable, he has to walk home--
“I said I wouldn’t fuck you tonight,” Kurt groans, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, tugging his cock out, hand flying over it while the other massages Blaine’s thigh. “And I won’t. But god, do I want to--”
“Kurt, oh my god--”
“Wanted to fuck you the whole time,” Kurt murmurs, arm starting to burn, he’s going to come so hard. “Wanted you bouncing on my cock, wanted you falling apart around me. You’d feel so good, Blaine, wouldn’t you? Would you feel good for me?”
Blaine reaches forward, sitting up to put his hands on Kurt, grabbing his hips and feeling the way he fucks his hand. “Yes, Kurt, I’d do anything, anything you wanted--”
“You were such a good boy, Blaine,” Kurt gets out, heat pooling, and Blaine’s got to know Kurt’s about to mark him up. “Would’ve let you top me if we had more time--so good for me, such a good sub--oh, oh, Blaine!”
Blaine lunges up to kiss him, off center, but Kurt corrects it just as he comes, muffling wild cries in Blaine’s mouth. He shoots come all over Blaine’s neck and collarbone, trickling down over his chest and then slowing to just cover his own hand. He slows, catching his breath, drawing out his orgasm with a few slow strokes.
“Can I--can I taste?” Blaine asks. “I--I want to taste it, can I sir? Can I taste it?”
“You do?” Kurt blurts, a little sex-stupid. “You don’t even know what I look like--you want to taste my come?”
“I want it,” Blaine nods. “I trust you--I do--”
“Not this time, baby,” Kurt says, and Blaine pouts, but he’s sure about this decision. “Before you trust me, I want you to be able to see me, get to know me. I don’t want you making decisions you’ll regret when you’re vulnerable from a scene, okay?”
Blaine’s breath hitches, and the way his face moves, Kurt’s nervous he’s crying. But he lets out a wet-sounding laugh instead.
“See?” he says. “I can trust you.”
Kurt leans down and kisses him, pulling the decorative kerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his hand and Blaine’s torso of come. It’s a sacrifice, of course, but he’s willing to make it so that he doesn’t have to go search for tissues or a washcloth. Now, he can just hold Blaine.
“Um--can I request something?”
“Of course.”
Blaine’s hands flutter over where they’ve been rubbing at Kurt’s hips.
“Could you--could you maybe take your clothes off and--and hold me?” Blaine asks, obviously anxious. “I--I just want to feel your skin. You don’t have to--”
“Blaine, that’s a wonderful idea,” Kurt interrupts, kissing him again, reassuring. “Just give me one second to undress and I’ll be right back.”
He shuffles off the bed and undresses as he said he would, making sure his clothes are laid nicely on the dresser nearby. He crawls back on, naked, and curls Blaine into his arms, stroking his back and hair as Blaine buries his face in Kurt’s neck, the blindfold slightly damp on his skin.
“Thank you,” Blaine says, so sincere and sweet, and Kurt kisses his temple.
“Thank you.”
They say nothing else. Kurt just holds Blaine, touching him, palms warm and slow on Blaine’s skin, gentle kisses pressed to his forehead, nose in sweaty curls that smell faintly of raspberries. This is exactly what Kurt’s been missing--it’s true, this is who he is. He wants to take care of a wonderful man like Blaine, make him feel things he didn’t know he could feel. And he wants to feel them in return. He wants someone to trust him and care for him and dream up new things to experience with him. And someone that fits the bill is right here, with no clue what Kurt looks like, playing a game that comes with the understanding that they’re to part without truly meeting. He’s not sure if he wants to praise or berate Santana for pulling this off, giving him such a perfect in back to the life he loves, but can’t really keep.
And then, in the midst of Kurt’s pressing thoughts, Blaine’s breathing evens out, and his body goes limp and heavy, and Kurt kisses him one last time.
“I mean it,” he whispers, though Blaine is deep in sleep and can’t hear a thing. “Thank you.”
He slips away, letting Blaine hug a pillow instead, and covers him with a spare blanket, so he doesn’t get cold.
And then he breaks the rules completely.
This is a hookup party. But this was not a hookup, and Kurt knows it. He thinks Blaine knows it, too. After all, Blaine was the one to describe what Kurt was doing as his perfect fantasy, to describe Kurtas his perfect fantasy.
Kurt has to take the chance. He’s already this deep--he’ll never forgive himself if he lets it go.
Blaine’s phone is in his pants. Kurt opens it (thankfully, Blaine doesn’t have a locking screen), and puts his number into Blaine’s contacts. Then, he finds Blaine’s number, and puts it in his own phone before setting the phone on the bedside table, on full volume and vibrate, just in case.
And then he dresses, and tiptoes out.
A few people are milling around in the foyer, having drinks and talking casually, obviously sated and relaxed from their activities. Kurt doesn’t look at their wrists--and he can’t tell who’s a Dom or sub, can’t tell who was affected by this. Probably nobody. They’re used to it. And that’s fine for them, but something churns in his gut at the thought that he might have to do this sort of thing for a while before he finds someone, if Blaine doesn’t answer him.
He waits til he’s down in the lobby before he texts Santana, letting her know he’s on his way home. Then, he texts Blaine.
Thank you so much for tonight, it says. I know Sebastian has rules about us not seeing each other, but I have a rule about wanting to look into my sub’s eyes. If you’d rather follow my rules, let me know.
He pockets his phone, and begins the walk home, trying not to hope.
He doesn’t try for long. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out so fast he’s almost embarrassed at his own neediness. But he has to know.
From Blaine:
Yes, Sir.
Kurt smiles. It’s a start.