Klaine, NC-17
Word Count: 3300
Summary: The prompt was to have Kurt and Blaine baking a cake together; Kurt being controlling and bossy, and Blaine just wanting to goof off, much to Kurt's dismay. However, once I satisfied said prompt, I blatantly turned it into porn.
He grabbed a measuring cup and reached for the bag of flour behind him, grasping around the empty counter for a moment before realizing it wasn’t where he’d left it. He turned around, only to come face-to-face with a grinning Blaine, who was holding the bag up at his chest between his hands.
Kurt rolled his eyes, unable to stop a smile from forming on his lips. “Blaine, I need that for a hot sec—“
Before he could finish, Blaine had dipped his hand into the flour, pulled out a pinch, and flung it at Kurt. Kurt’s first instinct was to duck and cry out, before straightening up and aiming his mixing spoon for a swing right at his laughing face. Blaine dodged out of the way, taking the flour with him.
“Blaine!” Kurt screeched, trying desperately to pat the white powder out of his designer shirt’s padded shoulder, to no avail. “You jackass, we’re baking a cake, not destroying my wardrobe!”
“You got a little somethin’ in your hair, there,” Blaine pointed, flicking his wrist to brush it out of his boyfriend’s perfectly-styled coif, before ducking away from another batter-lathered blow. He danced around the side of the counter, giggling.
“Blaine I swear to God if you don’t hand me that flour right now you’re gonna wake up with a plastic bag around your head,” Kurt snarled in one breath. He reached for the baking soda instead, too impatient to wait for Blaine to finish up with his antics.
Blaine smiled from the other side of the counter. “No.”
“Your bottle of hair gel will be full of urine.”
“You like it curly anyway.”
“Blaine! I’m not playing fetch. Give!”
Blaine cocked his head. “You gonna come get me?”
Kurt threw up his hands in exasperation. “You’re insane. You’re completely insane. I’m dating a toddler.”
“Oh, come on, at least make it a little fun,” Blaine pouted, sliding the flour across the countertop in resignation. Kurt snatched it from his fingertips and spun on his heel, straight back to his mixing bowl.
“Fuck you,” he replied soundly. “Now get to work on the liquid ingredients.” He pointed at another section on the page.
“Yes, Chef,” Blaine sighed, sliding the book over to his own empty bowl.
As he cracked an egg over the edge of it, he could hear Kurt murmuring the instructions under his breath, twice each to ensure accuracy. He side-stepped around him to get to the fridge, accidentally brushing his palms (held together, facing outward, fingers spread) against his ass. He heard an annoyed little huff upon doing it again on the way back, milk and butter clutched to his sides underneath each arm.
Kurt took to preparing the toppings as Blaine poured the dry ingredients into the wet. He leaned forward over the bowl, trying desperately to make eye contact with Kurt as he stirred in a manner that involved more thrusting motions with the spoon than circular. The look on Kurt’s face when he finally looked up under a furrowed brow to see Blaine moaning with the handle gripped between two fists was worth it.
Kurt jabbed his finger into Blaine’s chest as he brought a freshly-greased pan over. “I have just about had it with you, Anderson.”
Blaine raised his hands like he was under arrest, stepping back to let him pour the batter into the baking dish. Then he snaked his arms around Kurt’s waist, laying his head on his upper back. “It won’t taste as great as it could have if you’d let me finish blowing the whisk.”
“The fact that you can even fit an entire whisk in your mouth is beyond me.” Blaine heard Kurt’s voice louder with his ear pressed against his back, thrumming through his vocal chords. He slid his hands in lazy circles across his apron, shrugging against him.
“It’s a skill.”
“Quit rubbing your grimy paws on me.” Kurt stepped back as he set down the bowl. Blaine straightened up, but didn’t let go of his waist. Kurt sighed, turning around in the circle of his arms to face him. “You wanna lick the bowl?”
“No.” Blaine dipped a finger in the perfectly-leveled batter in the pan, and before Kurt could protest, wiped it on the bridge of his nose. “You.”
Kurt wriggled out of his grasp as he stood on his toes and licked the dough off his face. “Oh my God! That’s it. You’re a lunatic. You’re a complete lugnut. There’s something wrong. We need to have you committed. I’m gonna—“
He broke off with an offended gasp as Blaine dotted the tip of his nose with another cocoa-loaded finger.
He bit his bottom lip in a big, goofy grin, eyes scrunching up. “Boop!”
Kurt shoved him backward with an elbow, wiping the batter off with his other hand. He glared. “Blaine! I have had it up to here with your shit! All I wanted was to make a nice delicious mocha cake to share over medium drips with my beautiful boyfriend and I can’t even get to the fucking baking part without him turning it into a circus act!”
Blaine shook it off and sauntered back forward. He grabbed the messy spatula out of the empty mixing bowl and held it dauntingly in front of his face. “I believe you meant to make a beautiful mocha cake with your delicious boyfriend,” he replied saucily, running his tongue along the side of the rubber, drawing the batter into his mouth and swallowing thickly.
“You’re filthy,” Kurt shot back as Blaine continued to obscenely expunge the remnants of batter from the spatula right in his face. He held eye contact like he was starring in an amateur porno.
“You know what I want more than cake?” Blaine rolled the words around on his tongue between long, seductive licks.
“I could only guess,” Kurt replied sarcastically. He narrowed his eyes, but when Blaine suddenly tossed the utensil aside and dropped to his knees, he knew he couldn’t keep up the annoyed façade for much longer.
Blaine slid his hands down Kurt’s front as he sank to the floor, grabbing at his hips and pushing him backwards up against the refrigerator. He scooted forward, pinning Kurt to the smooth, chilly surface with the heels of his palms. He groaned as he felt Kurt arch into him, hard.
“You seem to be pretty good at guessing,” he commented dryly.
Kurt swatted weakly at the top of his head as he felt his apron being untied. “Just…”
“Yeah?” Blaine murmured into the tight material of Kurt’s jeans as he pushed the loose folds of the apron to the side. “You want it right here? Right now?”
Kurt rolled his head back against the fridge, each breath growing slightly heavier than the last. “Just – that’s – fuck, Blaine –“ he cut himself off with a moan as Blaine’s fingers plowed through the button of his pants, tugging at his zipper and peeling them downward.
Behind them, the oven’s preheat timer cut through the sounds of their rustling clothes and heavy breathing with a shrill beep. Blaine, not about to let anything interrupt the path to his boyfriend’s potential nudity, dragged his fingers up Kurt’s bare thighs and cupped his ass, giving it a momentary squeeze – hard. He smirked as Kurt gasped, and then, in one smooth motion, hooked his fingers in the elastic of his underwear and jerked them down.
Kurt whined, his shoulderblades straining against the stainless steel behind him as Blaine brought his mouth down skillfully, quickly, as if he couldn’t have possibly waited a moment longer. Kurt’s jeans were inside-out and tangled around his knees, but there was no way in hell he could bring himself to do anything about it. He held Blaine in place, fingers spread wide in his hair, freeing a few of the curls from their slicked-back position. The apron tugged at the side of his neck as he held it back with his elbow, keeping it out of Blaine’s way.
“God, I – want,” he faltered, looking down helplessly, “Blaine, can – let me –“
“Here.” Blaine sank back on his heels abruptly and yanked Kurt’s pants and underwear gracefully down and off his legs. Kurt watched, unblinking, as Blaine licked his lips and raised himself up on his feet, sliding up the front of Kurt’s body.
He mostly felt, rather than saw, Blaine kiss him, sloppy and fast and deep on his mouth. He pressed himself firmly against Kurt’s tall frame from head to toe, grinding his hips in a circular motion, shamelessly rubbing himself against Kurt’s erection. He felt Blaine’s palms against his ass again and pushed backward into them, moving both of their bodies.
“Here,” Blaine repeated, low, into his lips. He guided their tangled bodies, stumbling a bit as he tried to side-step them both away from the refrigerator without separating their mouths. Kurt could barely focus on anything other than Blaine’s tongue licking its way into his throat, let alone how to operate his legs properly. He threaded his fingers beneath Blaine’s collar, gripping tightly, pulling the material taut across the muscles of his back. His knuckles dug shallowly into his skin.
Before Kurt realized what was happening, Blaine was bending his knees slightly and scooping beneath Kurt’s thighs, making an effort to lift him up onto the counter. Kurt immediately obliged him as he yanked an elbow back and pressed down with his palm to carry some of his weight upward, tangling the apron underneath him and partially sitting on it. He exhaled sharply as part of his bare ass made contact with the cold countertop.
Blaine couldn’t keep the sly smile off his face as Kurt paused to breathe, head hung and shoulders slumped, one hand propping his body up and the other still holding the back of Blaine’s neck. His hair was disheveled, stray strands flopping over his forehead, cheeks stained a shade of pink that perfectly matched his wet lips.
Still admiring his work, Blaine leaned forward, hovering over Kurt’s thighs. Kurt’s eyes darted down between his parted legs as his cock twitched upon the sudden intrusion. Blaine’s hands settled on his knees as he looked up. “This alright?” he asked, still a little breathless.
“Yeah, yes, yes, fine, completely fine –” Kurt sputtered, drumming his fingers against Blaine’s neck, instinctively urging him to travel back south. He almost regretted it at once: he was worried about going off the second Blaine sucked him back into his mouth.
He shut his eyes and let his mouth drop open, a moan working its way leisurely up his throat as he pulled his chest back and his shoulders forward. The way Blaine’s mouth sank down, lips soft, wet heat enveloping a flattened, skilled tongue against him was almost too much to bear all at once. The worst part was that Blaine knew exactly what Kurt could take. He knew exactly what he liked, just where he liked it, but would only provide enough to drive him absolutely insane.
Blaine pulled up and worked his way back down, jutting his chin forward, angling the soft curve of his tongue to guide Kurt’s dick to the very back of his mouth. He suppressed the urge to gag and let his tongue slide smoothly, slowly, all the way back to the very tip before repeating the motion, then again, and again, creating a steady rhythm. He could feel his hair brushing against Kurt’s belly each time he went down and brought one of his hands up to Kurt’s, guiding it to the back of his head, urging him to push down and control his actions. He could hear Kurt’s breath hitch in his throat.
“Shit,” he moaned. His eyes almost crossed underneath his eyelids, doing everything within his ability not to thrust upward into Blaine’s mouth. He tightened his grip in Blaine’s hair and let out his breath in a long, rapid hiss.
Blaine took this cue to pull his mouth off Kurt, crouching beneath the ledge of the counter and hooking his thumbs under Kurt’s knees, sliding them over his shoulders. He returned to his position, now holding Kurt’s legs in place, feeling his heels bump against his lower back. Given this new and exciting angle, he dove back down, running his tongue along the palm of his hand before grabbing the base of Kurt’s dick and attentively lowering his mouth to his balls.
Kurt thumped the back of his head against the cabinet and left it there, a stream of curse words rocketing through his brain and leaking weakly out of his mouth in the form of a senseless, faint drivel. Blaine’s lips nipped delicately at the sensitive skin, tongue dragging around every curve and back up and around in a playful swirl. His wrist bumped the top of Kurt’s thigh with each alternating pump of his fist, twisting counter-clockwise on each upward stroke to cover that touchy spot right by the head that always made Kurt’s legs shake.
Blaine bowed his head, turning it to drag his tongue back up the length of his cock, gently mouthing against the side with his pursed lips as he curled his tongue around it. His shoulders arched, shifting Kurt’s legs even further up, and he pulled his neck back to lick a thin, hard stripe up the underside with just the tip of his tongue.
“Oh my fucking god!” Kurt cried out, whipping his head forward with such force his entire body jerked. The hand that was free of being twisted in Blaine’s thick hair shot out to the side, making hard contact with the abandoned pan of batter, still waiting on the counter. Its even top was disturbed, spilling slightly over the edge of the metal. Kurt spared a side-eyed, half-lidded glance at it, and wiped up the mess with his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth. It was delicious. He felt dirty.
Blaine looked up at Kurt just in time to see him licking the batter off his fingers and growled into the inside of his thigh, raising his hips up further into the air. His lips came back harder, firmer. Kurt slumped back against the cupboard, hoping it would hold him up, his hand still in his mouth. He left his fingers hooked in his lip, pressing his tongue up against them, dragging it around, wishing they were Blaine’s so he could reciprocate just a fraction of what he was currently receiving.
He could start to feel that familiar tingling, burning sensation, despite Blaine’s constant deceptive changing of tactics whenever he felt he was starting to get close. His breathless moans steadily climbed to husky, deep, animal-like sounds. Blaine’s hands gripped the tops of his thighs, elbows bent around his knees, fingers pressed so tightly into his flesh it turned white under his touch. He doubled his efforts, hollowing out his cheeks and circling his tongue wildly, twisting his head in a different direction with each movement. In the back of his mind, Kurt briefly worried his neck would be sore tomorrow.
“B-Blaine,” he stammered, tugging briefly at his hair, “I-I’m…I – Oh, I…”
Blaine blatantly ignored Kurt’s warning, as if he hadn’t heard it, and took a deep breath through his nose before forcing his mouth all the way down. He felt Kurt’s hand completely withdraw from his hair as his throat contracted, but still kept his lips sealed to the base of Kurt’s cock, tongue writhing in his mouth.
Kurt was a lost cause. It was all he could do to try and muffle the noises he made with his fist as the most beautiful, mind-numbing wave of pleasure crashed over him like a crack of thunder. It made him go rigid, hitting him again, and again, and once more before finally beginning to wane. He could feel the soft smoothness of the entrance of Blaine’s throat squeezing around him, uncontrollably, relentlessly, causing the nerves in his brain to short-circuit. It felt like hours before he remembered to inhale.
Blaine swallowed, swallowed again, pulling up a little to suck every last drop from Kurt’s every last pulse. He worked him through the remainder of his orgasm, growing more and more gentle with each shudder, until he felt the muscles in his legs start to twitch and his abdomen trembling, finally releasing him. He turned his head to the side and grabbed a fold of the apron, using it to wipe his mouth. With a deep sigh, he rested his cheek down against Kurt’s leg and looked up at him. A smile played on his lips as he worked on bringing his breathing back to a normal rate.
Kurt felt boneless. Dazed, he stared down at his boyfriend, bent beneath his legs, panting slightly and gazing up under his lashes. He slid his fingers out of his mouth and back to his side, leaving a wet trail down his cheek behind them.
“Well,” he exhaled, lolling his head to one side, “I guess… I guess you should be in charge of cooking.”
Blaine grinned, straightening up and placing his hands on the counter on either side of Kurt. “We’d starve.”
Kurt leaned forward with as much strength as he could muster and kissed him, feeling first-hand how warm and swollen his mouth had become. He folded his shaky legs around Blaine’s waist and pressed their foreheads together.
“C’mon, Chef,” he said, scooting forward, “Let’s go get you taken care of.”
Blaine smiled again, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s middle and pulling him in to his chest, helping him slide off the countertop. Kurt made to grab his collar and tug him in the direction of his room, but Blaine stopped him.
“Hold on.” He motioned toward the pan, still sitting next to where Kurt had been. “Shouldn’t we put it in the oven first?”
“Blaine Anderson, you and I both know full well that that cake will not be taken out in time, it will burn, taste disgusting, and probably bring the entire apartment down in flames.” Kurt pulled harder. “Come on. I wanna lick the spoon this time.”
Blaine shrugged, pushing the off button on the stove before turning back to Kurt, who had removed his apron and reached out to place it over Blaine’s head instead. Then he pulled on it, leaning forward and flashing him a look from underneath his lowered brow. Blaine followed eagerly as Kurt skillfully sauntered them backwards to the bedroom.
An hour later, when the apartment door slid open, Santana looked around rather confusedly at the baking ingredients and unwashed dishes littering the counter space, and a mysteriously abandoned pan of cake batter sitting alone atop the stove.
However, when she suddenly caught sight of the skinny jeans crumpled up on the floor, she pushed Rachel right back out the door and slammed it shut behind them, disgusted.