The internet had strong opinions about it. The surviving avengers hadn’t broadcast their opinions about it.
Loki? Loved it.
This would likely surprise anyone familiar with him, given their public clash in Germany and that the god had rarely passed up an opportunity to mock the titular character with illusions. But the musical was over-dramatic, whimsical, and very importantly, included Loki himself.
Given that he had plenty of time (that whole concept changing was still new to him), he had seen every company production produced anywhere in the world. As well as assuming no less than 14 unique identities to submit reviews for said productions. And, occasionally, ensuring that certain reviewers woke up to unfortunate circumstances without crossing lines to draw attention to himself. Otherwise, the New York Times reviewer who slammed a director’s decision to cast a woman as Loki would have found himself in much more of a pickle than water conveniently coming from the ceiling to destroy his laptop, television, gaming system, and expensive shaving products that happened to all be open.
Sure, he thought his character had earned more than one solo number, which he had expressed through multiple avenues with no luck yet. However, having been a connoisseur of the theater arts himself back on Asgard, he thoroughly enjoyed the impact he was able to make. Many Lokis found themselves receiving fan mail, director’s instructions, or castmates’ suggestions on how to alter their performance. And it never failed to bring the true Loki satisfaction than to hear a quip of his receive laughs and applause from the audience.
What always amused him was each iteration’s take on how his character arc ended. Was he sent to Asgard? Did he escape? Did he just…disappear? Mandela effect, some people said.
Oh, Loki always thought, what they would do if they realized the actual truth.
Summary: Lost and alone in the Void, tormented by his captors, Loki is desperate for comfort and gets it from a surprising source.
Warnings: mention of torture, thoughts of suicide, angst, clonecest, selfcest
Shout out to gaslightgallows and EndlessStairway, whose works inspired me to try writing Loki for myself! If you haven't checked our their fic you definitely should!
***
Read on AO3
Time seemed not to operate in this pocket dimension of the universe. Sometimes Loki would fight rising despair after having been left alone for weeks, and the next second be groaning and heaving as if he had just been thrown in after meeting with The Other. Exactly what happened when he was outside this…cell? space? prison? was unclear. Any attempt to focus on The Other or the being he served felt as though his mind was fracturing into pieces. It triggered sensations of burning heat, of a will so strong it pressed and re-shaped the atoms of his form. It was enough to send Loki into a mental spiral and panic attack. He could no longer differentiate between which memories were real and which were implanted horrors.
This left him with few options. He couldn’t think of the only sentient life form he had seen since he fell from the bifrost. Couldn’t think of Tho-. No. Certainly not him. In this realm there was only excruciating pain and less pain. His current state of being was the latter, for which he was grateful.
There was a surface on which he lay, with a wall supporting him - whether either was real did not matter; he appreciated any level of comfort it provided. He tried to focus on something, anything, to anchor him to reality while simultaneously flinching away from any memory or thought that strayed too close to the true horror of his situation. Being surrounded by so much nothing was overwhelmingly emptying. Fleeting recollections of warmth, of connection, were almost too much to bear.
Throughout Loki’s life, his need to feel appreciated was as great as the extent to which he tried to hide it - anything Odin could consider a weakness cost him in the eyes of the court. But in this moment Loki would take all of Odin’s dismissiveness and the judgments of the nobles for one kind touch. With every full-body shudder, with every too-long gap in his memory, he desperately wanted to be comforted. He lay there, muscles spasming, face sweating, and wishing that he had perished in the void instead of falling into the thrall of - do not think of him do NOT think of him. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain, trying not to cry even as his soul screamed out for it to end.
A gentle hand floated over his cheek and brushed away the one tear that had escaped.
Loki froze and opened his eyes with a gasp. Hovering over him, with an expression of gentle sympathy, was himself.
It wasn’t seeing the clone that disturbed him; creating illusions of himself was a trick he mastered early on to play tricks on the servants and his brother. And due to his deep understanding of and connection to his seidr, it wasn’t entirely unusual for some of his magic to occur with timing bordering on precognition. But in this space, he wouldn’t have expected his powers to be effective. His immediate attempts to escape had quickly proven futile - but then again, this apparition did not appear intent on escape.
The simulacrum leaned forward, pressing several gentle kisses from the side of his head to the side of his mouth before leaning back as if to gauge Loki’s reaction. As the double tilted his head in question, Loki found his shock fade to embarrassed curiosity. His pulse quickened in anticipation as the simulacrum’s lips met his own, the warmth and kindness bringing a sting behind his eyes.
The pang of sadness was soon replaced by breathlessness as the kiss deepened, tongues moving in between gasps and soft smacking of lips. Loki felt warmth, for the first time in this prison dimension. Not the searing heat that tortured his limitations as Jotun, but an internal glow from feeling safe and wanted. The clone rose up again, shaking his hair back in a way Loki was very familiar with before his shirt shimmered away. Once again an eyebrow was raised in challenge, and this time Loki gave as good as he got. He had already thrown caution to the winds, why not see it through to the hopefully pleasurable end? Attempting a smirk of his own, Loki willed his clothes to disappear, underthings and all. He convinced himself that his expression didn’t reveal the excitement and hopeful anticipation of approval.
A pleased hum came from the simulacrum, and he ran hands down Loki’s arms before gently pinning his wrists down with soft pressure and bending to lick over a nipple. Tension shot through Loki as a first instinct, and he prepared to clench his fists and send a shockwave to throw aside everything surrounding him.
“Shhhh,” the clone soothed, making eye contact. Trust me. Trust yourself. The words came softly into Loki’s mind. There were so many reasons to doubt his safety and sanity at the present, and yet…his seidr felt nothing but peace. Loki pressed his lips together, one corner quirking up, and nodded.
“Okay,” he spoke to his mirror image in a whisper, then inhaled sharply as teeth brought each nipple to attention. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to accept the sensation, keeping his hands still even when the simulacrum began to work his way down Loki’s body. No secret spot or sensitive area was overlooked, with kisses and love bites showering down from his insistent lover.
“Can I-?” Loki breathed before biting his lip.
In a snap, the two were nose to nose, the simulacrum’s eyes pleased. Almost in unison, both men smirked before Loki surged to close the distance between them, hands tangling in his clone’s hair and pushing their hips together. Any sound Loki would make caught in his throat with the rough pleasure of his bare cock against the silken fabric. Dual panting was the only noise in the space, until Loki growled in displeasure as his clone lifted off.
Shaking his head, his mirror image dismissed any remaining clothes with a gesture and walked forward on his knees. Suddenly, Loki was confronted by his own cock, hard and shining at the tip. Admittedly, it was a handsome cock, and he couldn't help but feel a slight ego boost. But then he reached out his tongue to taste himself and twin satisfied groans pushed coherent thought aside. He explored the texture of the tip as the clone made small aborted thrusts, relishing in the tang of precome. A sharp pain on his head caused Loki’s eyes to refocus on the clone, who had one hand wrapped around Loki’s hair as he pushed forward slightly to signal his intent.
Loki brought his hands, which had come up to rest on the clone’s thighs, shakily back to the ground. He took a breath, though it technically wasn’t needed, and relaxed his jaw. Almost immediately his mouth was invaded by the forceful press of his own cock. The simulacrum did not hold back, and Loki couldn’t take his eyes away from the flushed face thrown up in pleasure. Though Loki didn’t have a gag reflex to speak of, there was a deep intimacy in feeling his throat clench around each intrusion, his own balls slapping at his chin. The rhythm was almost hypnotic, and Loki groaned as the clone pulled him flush to his hips, holding there before releasing him entirely. Breathing heavily with saliva and precome down his chin, Loki watched as his clone brought a hand to lift one of Loki’s legs with clear intention.
Loki tensed on instinct. It was ironic in a way, to be afraid of pain when he had experienced indescribable tortures in this hell. But the concept of being hurt there, in such a private place, made his heart freeze.
Frowning in understanding, the double clicked his tongue and placed a delicate fingertip to Loki’s hole. Loki let out a surprised exhale at the release of tension and the large cool droplet sliding between his ass cheeks. It was quickly followed by two fingers, slick and magic pressing gently and insistently inside in a combination not often attained by past bedmates.
For once, the absence of time was a gift, and Loki alternated between gazing at his lover’s intent, kind face and closing his eyes to bask in the rhythmic motion of familiar long fingers pressing and rubbing against his inner walls. He let out a moan, purely of pleasure, as three fingers speared him and his clone leaned in close.
It’s time. Let me in.
Without any further need for communication, Loki slowly turned over on his hands and knees as the fingers slowly withdrew. The discomfort of emptiness was quickly replaced by a smooth cock stretching him perfectly, slow enough that he felt the pressure along with the pleasure. And the length! When the simulacrum pulled back and thrust hard, Loki saw stars and squeezed around the thick cock to intensify the sensation.
Give in.
And he did. Loki let his head hang and didn’t hold back any sound as his clone gave him everything. It wasn’t gentle, yet every hard thrust was exactly what Loki wanted and needed. It was freedom, as close to it as realistically possible. As his elbows gave way and he lowered his upper body to the ground, Loki moaned anew at the new angle. There was no shame, humiliation or pain, just a breathless high he had often sought but rarely found in Asgard.
His clone growled and pressed his body flush against him, speeding up. Loki and his double both gasped as the clone came, hot in his ass. It was as if the orgasm was shared between them.
Good job, so good.
Loki tried not to show his joy at the affection coming from the words in his head. His face scrunched as the soft cock slipped from his ass and the clone turned them into a spooning position. Loki inhaled sharply as fingers replaced the cock, feeling the clone’s come slipping out of his hole as the fingers targeted his sensitive spots with furious precision. Frost Giants had internal anatomy that differed from the Aesir, and no bedsport partner back on Asgard had known what to look for. Neither had Loki himself, for that matter.
But the simulacrum…Loki’s mirror image knew him intimately, inside and out. Every jab of his long fingers pressed a spot that made Loki see stars. The clone had one arm wrapped around Loki’s front, pulling them close so Loki could lay his head back on his shoulder. The pleasure rose as Loki panted, arching his back from the sharp sensation. The hand on his chest slid down to grasp his cock, and with only a few strokes Loki was coming.
His cock pulsed and he cried out, not in pain but in relief as come shot up his chest. The clone pushed him through it, fingers and stroking continuing until Loki almost couldn’t stand it any more. He was floating, not the dissociation to escape from torture he was all too familiar with, but the headspace of knowing you were safe and taken care of.
“Don’t leave.”
Loki’s whisper was quiet, eyes closed against the shame. Terrified for the solid presence behind him to disappear and leave him alone in the emptiness once again.
Let yourself go, I’m here. I’m always here.
The rhythm of their breaths synchronized to a slow, peaceful lull, the simulacrum still holding Loki tightly. For once, fear of what would happen in next minute was gone. His muscles were relaxed, his ass tingled pleasantly from intimate use, and soft kisses were pressed on his neck.
*posts new fic chapter months later and runs away* I don’t really have an excuse. On the plus side I think I’ve decided how to end it so I shouldn’t have too many more chapters :)
Also on AO3
After careful compromise with his father, Kurt texted Blaine a single sentence.
Your month starts now.
Sighing heavily, Kurt tossed aside his phone. He had expected his father to be a helpful source of procrastination, but surprisingly he hadn’t taken much convincing to allow once weekly outings with Blaine. Assuming, of course, that he still attended his groups and the activities were all Burt-approved (Kurt had resisted rolling his eyes at that stipulation).
Buzz
Buzz
Stomach twisting, Kurt stared at the ceiling. It was probably just Rachel trying to bug him, that’s all.
Buzz
Buzz
With a growl of self-deprecation Kurt buried his face in his pillow, reaching for his phone and peeking with one eye.
4 Messages from Blaine
Hooray!!
I’m really excited to get to know you
I hope you are too
:)
Kurt smiled before he could help himself.
He was so screwed.
*
“I am so screwed,” Kurt said honestly as he stared at the pottery wheel in front of him. Why on earth Blaine had chosen an art class for their first outing Kurt had no idea. “Performance is one thing, but this kind of art? Completely out of my league.”
Blaine rolled his sleeves up, rubbing his hands together with glee as their instructor plopped two slabs of wet, grey clay in front of them.
“Me neither! That’s the fun part!” He began to poke at the lump as the instructor, a tiny asian woman with chopped hair, clapped her clay-covered hands together.
“Welcome!” She grinned at the small gathering of friends and couples around pottery wheels. “My name is Lardo and I’m here to help you all with your foray into the art of ceramics. I’ll be coming around to help you with ideas, technique, or how to work those wheels. This is totally freeform, so let your inspiration guide you. Whether it be your Memories, Soulmate, or how you’re feeling today, don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty!”
Kurt, who had tensed at the mention of Memories, relaxed at Lardo’s chill demeanor. There weren’t any expectations here; maybe he could have a good time.
Forty minutes later both boys were breathless with laughter. It had all started when Blaine made the wheel spin too quickly, splashing gray water onto his red polo. A beat of horror, then Kurt couldn’t help a half-hidden snort of laughter, followed by a chuckle of amusement from Blaine. Shortly after he abandoned the wheel for a freeform sculpture on the table. Kurt stuck with his vase, focusing intently on pinching and pulling the clay until-
“How’s it going Kurt?” Blaine asked, “I’m - oh my.”
“Yeah?” Kurt responded without taking his eyes from the edge he was working on.
Blaine cleared his throat, cheeks darkened when Kurt finally glanced up. “It’s just-uh-your vase. It’s a bit-“
“What’s wrong with it?” He frowned defensively.
“Phallic?” The response was apologetic.
Sputtering, Kurt made to defend his masterpiece when he pushed his chair back to survey his work at a distance.
Shit. And to think he had planned to give this as a gift to Carole!
“I made a dick vase.” Kurt whispered in horror, and their instructor cackled as she walked by at the perfect moment.
“Hey, you never know when you’ll need one! My friend has at least one in his apartment.”
Wordlessly, Kurt flattened his palm and squished his vase into a flat blob. He glanced up to make eye contact with Blaine and this time they both laughed out loud, tears almost coming to Kurt’s eyes.
In the end, Blaine ended up with what he claimed was a bowtie paperweight (causing more teasing when Kurt accidentally complimented his snowman), and Kurt with a less offensive small bowl to place keys in.
They said goodbye at the door, both covered in dry, cracking clay.
“I had fun,” Kurt said, surprised for a moment that he meant it. The past couple hours had been a chance to be silly and have fun, allowing him to leave the heavy thoughts he dealt with on a daily basis behind.
“Me too!” Blaine beamed. “I’ll text you with my next idea.”
“I look forward to it.”
*
Kurt was not looking forward to this. Shuffling his feet nervously, he tugged on the straps of the safety harness and compulsively tapped his helmet. This had all been fun and games when he teased Blaine for getting a size small harness, but his amusement faded upon seeing the high ropes course before them. It was reminiscent of gym classes from years past, definitely not a source of happy memories. Without thinking, he voiced the comparison aloud, and was surprised when Blaine nodded in familiarity.
“It’s sad, how kids can be so cruel.” There was something in his face and his tone that screamed of a backstory…different than Kurt’s but possibly just as troubling. It made Kurt want to know more about him, and maybe share more about himself. Not now, but maybe if these meetings continued to go well…
Blaine turned to him with a supportive, warm smile. “Don’t worry, no judgment here. I’m a little nervous myself.”
The guide explained the first challenge to them, and soon Kurt found himself much closer to Blaine, and a super sweet twenty-something girl from Cleveland, than he ever expected. They pulled and pushed and supported each other to the top of three huge logs strung together. Kurt felt no hesitation as Blaine grasped his and the girl’s hands to raise in victory.
Neither was he surprised surprised when Blaine murmured “courage” before Kurt took a deep breath and they began to climb a tall, thin column. Standing on the tiny platform as the column swayed in the wind, Kurt clutched the arm of Blaine’s jacket with genuine fear as he glanced down. Had this looked so high from below?
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Blaine gulped, purposely staring straight ahead at the small trapeze the two of them would aim for.
“No, we’ve got this.” Kurt sucked in a breath as another gust of wind threatened to destabilize them. “If we don’t try this I know I’ll regret it.”
“A leap of faith,” Blaine murmured, looking to Kurt for recognition. Upon receiving none he shrugged bashfully. “We’ll have to do a movie marathon at some point, if you’re into that.”
“Let’s see if we survive this first,” Kurt gulped, “on the count of three?”
Blaine nodded without looking his way, biting his lip. “One.”
“Two, three!” Kurt finished, and his heart jumped into his throat as he leapt in the air towards the trapeze. It took a moment for their success to register and he laughed aloud as Blaine hollered joyfully, both their hands side by side on the swinging bar.
Legs kicking, the two shared a gleeful look. Kurt hadn’t felt this carefree in…ages. Maybe these outings weren’t such a bad idea.
*
Kurt hadn’t realized that he’d started looking forward to texts from Blaine planning their next event until the radio silence of the following week. He suddenly felt unsure, both at himself for depending too much on someone else, and worrying if something had happened to Blaine. What if he changed his mind? Was he already tired of trying to connect to someone like Kurt when there was no chance of it happening?
Ignoring the voice in his head that said not to get attached, Kurt grabbed his phone.
To Blaine: Hi Blaine! How are you doing?
“Could I be any more lame?” Kurt groaned to himself, throwing aside the phone and and finishing his morning routine. It wasn’t until homeroom when his phone buzzed with a reply.
From Blaine: Ugh. I’m so sorry I haven’t texted you! :( I came down with an awful cold and haven’t been off the couch in three days :(
Kurt found himself smiling at the emojis, and before he could respond the dots to signify typing popped up.
From Blaine: I feel horrible that I haven’t gotten to plan anything! I was going to drag my ass off the couch and go to yoga this weekend. So unless that sounds appealing, we’ll have to wait until next week :P
To Blaine: Now that’s something I’ve done before! I’ve been trying yoga since -
Frowning, Kurt deleted that last part. No need to bring up his condition.
To Blaine: Now that’s something I’ve done before! Your instructor can’t be any stricter than the lady I’m used to.
When Kurt entered the studio Blaine had texted him, he was immediately struck with a wave of incense and heat. It was a far cry from the modern, minimalistic studio he had gone to since his diagnosis.
“Blaine!” Came a cry from the front desk, “it’s been long enough!”
A tattooed man with eyeliner and the tips of his dark hair bleached stood up from behind the front desk where he was sitting on an exercise ball.
“Hey Elliott!” Blaine moved forward, embracing the man with familiarity. “I know it’s been too long, between school and other stuff…”
“Who’s your friend?”
“This is Kurt! He’s a friend from McKinley. Kurt, this is Elliott, he’s our instructor.”
“Sweet,” Elliot shook Kurt’s hand enthusiastically. “Well get yourselves changed! It was the perfect day to bring him, Blaine. I’m doing partner yoga today!”
Blaine flushed as the two of them turned to the changing area. “I didn’t know he was doing partner yoga, sorry.”
With a shrug, Kurt slipped off his shows and put them into a cubby. “I’ve never tried that, it could be fun.”
*
“Reach forward as far as you can,” Elliott directed. “Very good, now bring that hand down to either your shin, a block, or the ground. Use your partner to help your alignment.”
This class was challenging, for more reasons than one. The heat was on high, dampening Kurt’s body with sweat. And as if it wasn’t difficult enough once he saw Blaine’s small green shorts, most of Elliott’s paired poses required their bodies to be pressed up against each other. He tried to listen to Elliott’s direction and focus on his breathing, but it was difficult whenever he got a view of Blaine’s ass mid-lunge. With each pose they held and breathed through together, Kurt had never felt closer to someone else. Something he didn’t think would be possible without a Soul Connection.
But it was probably just the incense getting to his head, nothing more. Or pure attraction; those shorts were sinful after all.
Feeling sleepy and thoroughly relaxed, the two shared a lunch at a sushi place recommended by Elliott. A month ago, Kurt would have scoffed at the very idea of being seen in public in fitness wear, let alone sweat-soaked post-yoga gear. But it seemed like spending time with Blaine had changed many of Kurt’s preconceptions about himself.
Between laughing about the America’s Next Top Model episode they had watched that week, Blaine checked his watch and sighed. “I better be off soon, my parents expect me home and I have a history paper to finish.” His smile dimmed slightly. “And I guess my month’s almost up…maybe one more outing?”
How could his heart hurt so badly when Kurt had gone into this knowing it wouldn’t work out?
“Yeah,” Kurt’s voice caught in his throat, “I guess so.”
*
From Blaine: So…any last requests for our last outing?
To Blaine: Nothing in particular I guess, everything’s been good so far.
“You an’ that Blaine kid planning another date?” Burt questioned as the TV went to commercial, causing Kurt to sputter in response.
“Date? What? No, dad. Oh my god. He’s just a friend, he just wanted to get to know me better, that’s what these are for. That’s all. I’m serious!” He added at Burt’s quirked eyebrow. “If you really want to know,” Kurt felt his anger rise, though at what or who he couldn’t say. “This whole stupid thing is pointless because he’s going to realize he can’t Soul Connect with me anyway.”
Burt held up his hands defensively. “Woah there kiddo, didn’t know I hit a sore spot. Call it whatever you want, as long as you keep going to those groups and following my rules.”
“It’s not a date.” Kurt huffed, setting aside his phone a tad harder than necessary. “Now what’s the score of whatever we’re watching?”
The change in subject wasn’t commented on, but Kurt remained stiff for the remainder of the evening, ignoring his phone entirely. He allowed himself to peek just before going to bed, hiding his smile in the pillow.
From Blaine: oh! I’ve been talking with the Warbler boys about arranging a karaoke night. Does that sound interesting to you?? :)
To Blaine: Sounds perfect.
*
The following days were filled with discussion of song suggestions, both for duets and playful battles between the two glee clubs. Burt was thrilled that Kurt was getting involved in a “community event without the nonsense of before”, and was planning to attend with Carole.
The night of the karaoke found Kurt bouncing on their platform ‘stage’, Blaine on his tiptoes peaking around their makeshift curtain. Kurt had questioned the inclusion of a curtain for karaoke, but Blaine insisted that they were the opening performance, and their level of star power deserved a curtain.
(Kurt couldn’t argue with that)
Their performance of ‘Just Can’t Get Enough’ brought down the house, and was the perfect start to the night. The Warblers and New Directions performed with and against each other, with laughter and cheers coming from everyone present. For the first time since he was a child, Kurt didn’t think about drawing from Memories or projecting his Soul. He just sang his heart out, enjoying every second of applause under the lamps posing as a spotlight. When the event ended, his arms were around Rachel’s and Blaine’s waists as the performers all took a bow.
Blaine had offered to drive Kurt home, so Kurt loitered near the car while he chatted and said goodnight to his fellow Warblers, receiving enthusiastic slaps on the shoulder from the night’s success.
“I was totally right, wasn’t I?” The quiet and satisfied voice of Rachel popped up beside him.
“About our duet?” Kurt asked, reluctantly taking his eyes from Blaine. “I already said that the suggestion of the Happy Days/Get Happy duet was a great idea when you suggested it.”
Rachel nodded to herself. “Well, that. But no! I was talking about Blaine, silly.”
“What about Blaine?” She had his full attention now.
She rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips. “That he would be perfect for you! Why do you think I went through all this trouble of getting you guys together? It’s a great example of why we’re Soulmates obviously, that I know you so well that I’m able to tell right after one meeting that someone would be good boyfriend material-”
Kurt, eyes wide, put a finger over her lips to stop her, quickly glancing over at the Warblers and sighing with relief when he saw Blaine was still occupied. “Rachel! Have you been talking to my dad? We’re friends, that’s all. Friends that like to spend time together. I do appreciate your part in that but don’t go around talking about…that.” He finished quietly. “Look, we have a lot in common, and I’ll give you that he’s handsome, and I enjoy spending time with him.” He huffed in frustration as Rachel’s eyebrows rose. “But that doesn’t mean anything! Blaine’s a romantic, I can tell. He wants - no he deserves a Soulmate he can Connect with. And I can’t give that to him.” Even though I want to.
Those unspoken words echoed in his mind, Rachel’s reply turning to white noise as he turned once again towards the Warblers. Blaine was laughing, his triangular eyebrows scrunched as he shook his head in response to the group. He reached up to brush a hand over his hair (checking his gel, Kurt knew), and caught Kurt’s eye. Face lighting up, he appeared to wave off his classmates as he walked toward the cars. Distantly, Kurt clued into the fact that some of the boys were whistling at Blaine’s back, causing a subtle blush to redden the Warbler’s cheeks. The color suited him, Kurt noted.
Shit.
Liking Blaine was inevitable, but falling for him? That was dangerous. Even if they were a good match, the possibility of Blaine meeting a romantic soulmate would always hang over Kurt’s head. His life had already caused him so much pain…was it worth risking more?
“Hey Kurt! Sorry you were waiting,” Blaine said breathlessly as he joined them. “Does Rachel need a ride too?”
“No I’m fine,” Rachel said quickly, staring intently at Kurt. “You two enjoy your ride.” With one obvious jerk of her chin towards Blaine, she ran to a car across the lot.
Blaine’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he shrugged and opened the passenger side door with a flourish for Kurt.
Yeah. This was going to be a problem.
*
The drive home was as comfortable as always, with both boys discussing the best performances of the night and the possibility of making it an annual event. Things were fine until Kurt and Blaine found themselves in front of the Hummel house with Kurt’s imposed deadline of a month an elephant in the room too large to ignore.
“Kurt-”
“Blaine-”
Both cut off as they began at the same time, and Blaine’s eyes lit up in a hope so pure it nearly broke Kurt’s heart.
“Yes?!”
The words Kurt was planning to say became stuck in his throat. His gentle letdowns, the ‘let’s be friends’, it was as if something was pulling it away from his tongue.
“It’s been a month,” he whispered instead. Blaine nodded in response. “You told me that you thought I was your Soulmate. I told you that you were wrong.” He swallowed. “My thoughts haven’t changed.”
Blaine’s expression gave away little. “Neither have mine. So where does that leave us?”
The silence was heavy, with neither wanting to break it.
“What do you want from me, Blaine?” Kurt finally asked. “Because I can’t give you any more than this. Just me, no Memories, no Connections, nothing.”
“And when did I ever say I want more than that?” Blaine’s voice was sure and confident.
“You deserve more than that,” Kurt countered.
“Don’t I get a say in what I deserve?!” Blaine’s voice was raised, and his eyebrows were furrowed in frustration. “I like you Kurt, I really like you. Why isn’t that enough?” His voice broke on the last word, and Kurt himself blinking furiously to keep from crying.
“I’m afraid,” Kurt whispered.
Blaine held his arms out, looking relieved as Kurt allowed himself to step into his embrace. Kurt shook where he was pressed against Blaine’s shoulder, on the cusp of having what he had convinced himself he could never have.
“It’s okay to be afraid,” Blaine said quietly, “this is new for me too.”
Kurt stepped back, holding Blaine’s hands when he tried to pull them away. “Does it bother you, that I won’t have any Memories of you?”
“No,” Blaine answered honestly, “I promise you Kurt, it doesn’t.”
Nodding, Kurt swung their hands back and forth, looking down. He breathed out loudly. “So. I guess the question again is; where does this leave us?”
“Well,” Blaine smiled shyly. “How about this. Will you, Kurt Hummel, go on a date with me?”
“No.” Kurt smiled. “But I will go on a fifth date with you.”
Letting out a relieved breath, Blaine pulled Kurt back in for another hug. “That was so mean.”
“I guess you better get used to it, then.”
Before he could second-guess himself, Kurt gave Blaine a quick peck on the cheek before turning to unlock the door, feeling his face heat with a blush.
“See you soon?” He glanced back, biting his lip to keep his joy contained.
Blaine ducked his head, smiling wide. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”
After waving goodbye Kurt went inside and backed up against the closed door. He giggled - giggled! - to himself, covering his face with his hands. A throat clearing made him look up with a start, to see his dad leaning against the living room entrance with his arms crossed. He was smiling too, his expression entirely too smug for Kurt’s liking.
“So, when’s your next not-date with Blaine?” His dad asked with overly-exaggerated casual innocence.
“Shut up,” Kurt said through his grin, and his dad’s laugh followed him down the stairs to his room where he was not going to dance around in celebration. Definitely not.
Blaine looked around the huge hall of the convention center with excitement, itching to explore the various tables and booths. This Star Wars convention may not be Comic Con (that was still on his bucket list), but it was still incredible. He and Sam had already been to a couple panels, and wanted to explore the common area before ducking into the movie marathon theater. Giving his costume a quick once-over and straightening the belt that held his lightsaber, he turned to Sam.
“Bounty Hunter Evans,” Blaine crossed his arms in a serious demeanor. “Is this where we part ways?”
Sam nodded, the helmet on his head sliding slightly. “I’m afraid it is Jedi Master Anderson. We shall meet again at about 13:00. In the meantime...I think I might try to meet some of the ladies.” His gaze strayed to a woman with a fantastic Twi’lek cosplay and gave Blaine a wink. “Good luck with the gentleman Master Anderson.”
Blaine rolled his eyes fondly but had to admit there were a couple of very attractive fans wandering about. In fact...a man turned around near a merchandise booth that practically had Blaine tripping over his own feet.
With his pale skin, flawless complexion, and upswept hair, the man looked like he’d be more at home at a Lord of the Rings convention. He was magnetic, and Blaine found himself walking up to the man before he consciously made the decision.
“Hello!” Blaine said bravely (his Jedi outfit made him feel brave, so sue him). “I’m Blaine. Are you here in character?”
The man raised an eyebrow, though without too much judgement. “Kurt. What character do I look like?”
Blaine gave Kurt a polite glance, praying desperately that his gaydar was on point. “Well, your fashion sense and beauty could easily point to Naboo.”
Kurt’s cheeks pinked but he shook his head. “Bold, for a Jedi. But I’m actually just here to accompany a friend, not much of a Star Wars fan myself.”
Blaine stepped back immediately, but before he could apologize Kurt smiled.
“I appreciate the compliment though, Blaine.”
Nodding, Blaine left as Kurt was joined by his friend, and went to explore the new Star Wars legos. Before long he met up with Sam, now accompanied by his Twi’lek friend, and they snuck into one of the theaters. This one was showing Episode III, and they settled into a seat near the back.
Blaine was leaning away from Sam, now making out with the girl, when he saw him. Kurt was slowly creeping into the theater, standing by the door. Curious, Blaine kept shooting him glances but Kurt didn’t leave and didn’t seem to be with his friend.
On screen, the video cut to Anakin and Padme in bed, and suddenly Kurt moved forward. Blaine found his attention alternating between the hot shirtless man in the film and the hot man staring from the side of the theater.
When the scene ended Kurt made his way out, and with one last glance to see if Sam was still occupied (he was), Blaine left the theater.
Kurt wasn’t too far ahead, and blushed when Blaine called out his name.
“Not a fan of Star Wars, huh?” Blaine smirked.
“I’m only human,” Kurt shrugged, “and middle-school me was very into that shirtless scene.”
This time it was Blaine who raised an eyebrow, and Kurt sighed. “Well, I may enjoy the movies a bit. But possibly not as much as you.”
“I love the movies!” Blaine exclaimed, though he realized that his costume spoke to that.
Kurt smiled. “Are you allowed to love? I thought that was forbidden for a Jedi.”
And just like that, Blaine was gone. “Can I get your number?”
“Sure,” Kurt said cheekily. “And you can even buy me a glass of blue milk here to start, Master Jedi.”
“Wow. You are really out of it.” Pre-relationship zimbits? :D
First off, thank you SO much for giving me a prompt! It helped me kick my writer’s block in the butt and actually write something for the first time in months!
Also on AO3
“Wow. You are really out of it, honey.” Bitty bit his lip as the endearment slipped out. The team hadn’t complained about them at all, especially given how much Bitty was feeding them. But he had to take extra care with Jack, lest his inappropriate fondness for their very straight captain become evident.
Jack grunted from where he lay on the floor on top of a clean sheet (a compromise, Bitty had nearly shrieked when Jack had headed for the couch). He wore nothing but soft sleeping shorts, which would normally draw Bitty’s undivided attention if it weren’t for the bright red angry sunburns across the majority of his body.
“Issit worse than yesterday?” Jack asked quietly, voice muffled.
Bitty winced in sympathy as Jack shifted. “Well…remember how Holster started singing Rock Lobster last night? I think you’re past lobster now.”
“uuuhhhh” Jack groaned. “Câlice. I hate the sun.”
“I told y’all boys to use sunscreen,” Bitty couldn’t help but add. “You should see how fast a sunburn can happen back home.”
Jack turned his head with difficulty, a bright flush up his neck and cheeks that Bitty reminded himself was from the sun. “Not gonna hit me with a tease about Canadians, eh?”
Readjusting one of the fans pointed at Jack, Bitty shook his head with a smile. “Naw, I’m saving this for the next time you try and drag me out of bed early.”
“hahaha” Jack shivered. “Ugh. How am I hot and cold at the same time?”
“The aloe should be all nice and cold by now,” Bitty offered, “want me to get that?”
“S’il te plaît,” Jack mumbled into the ground.
“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” Bitty smiled in spite of the situation and hurried over to the kitchen, grabbing the tube of aloe gel out of the freezer. “Here ya go, hun.” He popped the cap open, causing Jack’s head to turn towards him.
“You can just leave it with me Bitty, don’t you have class soon?”
Bitty cocked his hip and eyed his captain critically. “And you’re going to apply this how? You can barely move, let alone reach your back.” He smirked when Jack tried to demonstrate out of spite and groaned, flattening out in defeat.
“I guess-ohhhhhh,” Jack moaned as the gel hit his skin in a way that forced Bitty to take a moment and rethink his place in the universe. “Okay yes aloe. Good.”
Clearing his throat, Bitty smiled and spread the aloe in the least-sexiest way he could think. “You just lie on back now and let me take care of this.”
Sighing happily, Jack closed his eyes and smiled. “Thanks Bittle.”
Bitty looked up to the sky, needing Jesus or whatever boner-killing gods were available to see him through this with his dignity.
I will write more, I promise! Eventually. I’m just always so. Tired. School and work just runs me into the ground. But I will return to fic, I have so many things in my head
This oneshot in my StarKlaine verse is inspired by the video in this VERY NSFW link of one of my favorite Doms Mr. Kristopher switching for his sub Hund.
You should probably read part one first to get a feel for the dynamic but it can also stand alone.
Here on AO3
This wasn’t the first time his Master had made use of the wooden frame in their playroom. Kurt was spread eagle, his leather wrist cuffs attached to chains from the two top corners and his high Doc Marten boots were spread wide, legs untied for now given that he maintain his “X” position.
Elliott stood behind him, in a classic leather pant and vest combination. Kurt could hear the weight of his boots and the creaking of the heavy flogger as his Master made him wait for the next hit.
Blaine was there too, dressed simply in black sweats and a grey t-shirt. He reached out with a towel, blotting the sweat from Kurt’s face that had come from the first round of warm-up. Kurt grunted his thanks through the fabric gag and Blaine kissed him on the cheek with a smile.
Once Blaine had stepped back, safely out of reach, Elliott stepped forward. Kurt felt the sweat-hot leather inches from his naked back and he shivered in anticipation.
“Ready, pet?”
Kurt nodded insistently, and the quick flicks of the flogger began almost instantly, Elliott twirling the leather in a circle to hit him in between the shoulders over and over.
He let out a short moan with each hit, the beat steadying him despite the sting. As if Elliott could read his mind, he brought the flogger back and swung it sideways, catching Kurt’s left ass cheek with a hard SMACK that forced him to bend his knees on instinct. This position only made his ass more vulnerable as his Master made sure to hit the opposite cheek just as hard. Kurt let out a grunt with each one, and he heard a pleased hum in response.
“I love when he makes that sound,” sighed Blaine, cheeks a bit red as he shifted slightly in place. Blaine didn’t always get hard when he joined them for a scene, but it made for an interesting shift in the dynamic whenever it happened.
“Mmhmm,” Elliott agreed. He walked forward, laying the flogger over Kurt’s shoulders to rest there. “Underneath all those fancy layers you’re still just an animal, aren’t you pet?”
Kurt felt himself tipping, edging towards that space where he ceased to be a man just toughing out pain and became a creature that could fly high; a conduit for his Master’s will. He could hear high whines muffled by the gag, and distantly acknowledged them as his own.
Elliott chuckled, rubbing Kurt’s shoulders before stepping back, pulling the flogger with him slowly so the tails slid over the tender skin. There was a pause, something communicated between Kurt’s men that was unimportant to the sub, then there was a hand on his chest, too smooth to be Elliott’s. Fingers found a nipple and pinched, hard and unforgiving.
Kurt cried out, feeling himself slip into that blissful headspace, and the hand was gone. Soon after the flogger began again, soft hits that he felt more after the short break. But Elliott changed once again, bringing the flogger up to come down on his shoulders harder several times in succession with a SLAP that forced exclamations of pain and desire through the fabric wet with his saliva. Now as the hits returned to a steady and repetitive sting, Kurt soared, relishing each time the hits didn’t stop. When Elliott paused Kurt grunted angrily, bouncing in his bondage as the pain of his back increased in the absence of the flogger.
He jumped forward when a hand came down on his ass hard, giving a grateful groan as Elliott slapped his cheeks several more times.
“Ready for more pet?”
Kurt’s firm “Yes, Master” was muffled by the gag but Elliott still nodded to himself in approval. The THWACK of the flogger over his red back brought Kurt to his toes, his yelling increasing in pitch. Elliott spaced out the hits then, relishing the bulge in Kurt’s arms when he pulled on his restraints, alternating between shrieks and low groans.
Blaine’s breathing was heavier, and he pushed the heel of his palm on his crotch while alternating his gaze between Kurt’s straining, caged dick and his face. “Fuck,” he whispered, which only goaded Elliott on more.
Kurt’s feet twiched from side to side as his body fought against his will to remain in position. Every time he thought he might be done, Elliott brought the flogger down once more. Each time, Kurt let the pain flow through him and cried out in whatever form came naturally. His body burned, but each hit made his cock ache. The sting from every individual fall of the flogger felt like electricity shooting across his back. He wanted to get away yet he relished each second of it, glazed eyes vaguely looking up at the ceiling then resting on his aroused boyfriend - aroused from his suffering - before returning to the floor.
“Look at you,” Elliott taunted. “Gagged, bound,” he walked next to Kurt, placing the hand not holding the flogger on his streaked ass. “Getting flogged,” he quickly squeezed and released Kurt’s balls, “caged.”
Kurt screamed, slipping from position at the unexpected pain.
“And yet,” Elliott continued as if there had been no interruption. “You love it. You stick your bare ass out for it.”
Kurt turned his face away, even as he shuddered with pleasure as Elliot pulled his ass cheek to the side and let it jiggle.
Salty tears mixed with the saliva soaking Kurt’s gag as Elliott stepped back once more, swinging the flogger up for another series of repetitive hits. At last, with one last combo-hit of his upper back and across his ass, Kurt’s scream was interrupted by the sensation change as too-warm skin, leather, and sweat pressed up against him. He cried out again, whimpering as his Master’s deft fingers reached around to pinch and twist his nipples.
“Such a good boy, pet,” Elliott breathed, removing the gag as Blaine lowered the chains holding Kurt’s arms up. “Thank you for giving that to me.”
Kurt just cried, the shake of his shoulders sending another wave of pain through him. He turned to face his Master once Blaine gently removed the cuffs from his wrists.
“That’s it, come here pet.” Elliott supported Kurt’s weight as he laid them down on the ground where he had a mat and pillow ready. Kurt’s tears continued to fall, curling his body in on himself.
Blaine knelt down, giving them both a kiss on the forehead before leaving them to their aftercare. Elliott rested easily knowing that Blaine would have food and drink ready for Kurt when they were ready.
Elliott knelt over Kurt, cocooning his sub and wrapping his arms around his head while avoiding direct contact on his upper back. He kept up a quiet repetition of praise as Kurt reached the meditative quiet he often fell into after intense scenes. Kurt moved closer to Elliott’s space, peace settling over his face. In a moment Elliott would begin to treat Kurt’s inflamed skin and the three of them would eat together. But for now, sub and Master would bask in the trust and safety of their shared bond.
