Apologies if this is too freaky 😅 but what if reader has a tickle fetish? Kurt likes tickling in a jokey way, but he'd probably notice how she'd flush, and, if she's not wearing a bra, how her nipples perk up. And curious, devious Kurt would certainly think pushing things in a different direction than he'd intended would be most entertaining...
It's not too freaky, my friend, trust me! But I must admit I did have to do a small Google research. A tickle fetish is not something I've ever considered, but remembering how Kurt tickled Rogue (to cheer her up) and Rachel (just for shits and giggles, apparently), I must admit it does make sense.
He will certainly take notice immediately, too — the way your breath hitches between giggles in a manner he's never heard before; the way you ask him to stop yet seem to lean into it just as much; and the way you squeeze your thighs a little bit too suspiciously for a simple tickling response. This is new territory for him. There are two responses Kurt is used to get from people: they either shrink into themselves and try to squirm away or start to kick and shove him in a bid to fight him off with strength alone.
You, however, grab his wrists as if something hidden inside you wants him there, fingers against your ribs. He will see this unnamed need shine in your eyes like a spark from a fire not lit yet and push your lips apart for a gasp too sensual; he will feel it like he feels the warmth of your flushed skin or the rustle of air swirling on your lips — but he won't say anything. He will keep it to himself like a secret he's not ready to part with just yet.
It will be a thought, a theory even, stashed safely away in Kurt's mind, and when the time comes for you to bare yourself to him, he will yield to the temptation to test it. Subtly at first, just to make sure he didn't misread. Your skin is soft, supple flesh inviting in its defenselessness, and his own body slots so, so perfectly against yours, and as he presses close, his thighs slide against the insides of yours in a sensation that you've never felt before. One that makes you shudder and giggle without intention. His fur is ticklish in quite a delightful manner, and above you, Kurt smiles in feigned surprise.
"Oh, did that feel good?" As if he doesn't know it did, better than you do.
He traces the lines of embarrassment woven into your features with a gaze full of gentle mischief — and leans in to capture the gasp that escapes your lips as he moves again, backwards this time. The fur catches on your flesh, and you swear you feel every single hair as they slowly, purposefully drag against your skin. Your legs twist, squeezing his hips, and goosebumps run all over your body, from your nape to your very ankles, in a quick, sharp little rain. Kurt's still clothed cock is bumping against you, heat to heat, but your perception of it is grainy, sidetracked by the brushing of his soft chest, belly, and arms against every inch of you. The sounds that leave you — choked gasps intermingled with stray moans — are so desperate you'd feel mortified if you could only focus on anything else but the thousands of caresses that make your brain short-circuit.
The whole time Kurt is kissing you, all tongue and hot breath, and whenever he's not, he's watching you. Enraptured, giddy in almost a childish manner, he catches every whine like a hungry cat catches a careless bird, and when you grow agitated beneath him, exhausted with overstimulation, he finally lets you breathe. Blue hairs stick to your clammy palms when you release his shoulders from the fitful grasp, and he soothes you with quiet shushes, thumb circling your hard, pert nipple.
"Tired already, Süße?" He lets his tongue explore the rest of your breast, and the air prickles at the wet trail that marks his little journey. "We can't have that, now can we?"
Something warm coils around your calf, and you shudder in dumbfounded anticipation, arm hairs standing up. Oh no. The tip of his spade finds a tender spot underneath your knee. Just what have you got yourself into? Kurt's eyes shine like two copper coins at the bottom of a river — darkened by something you don't really have the name for yet.
"We haven't even gotten to the good part yet, Schatzi."
