#December Day 17 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wowbright · 5 months ago

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Chapter 17: Tiger

Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU for december klaine fanworks challenge. Also on AO3.

“Just skate like you’ve been skating. It's that simple.” Sue was leaning in close, staring right into Blaine’s eyes. Hers were blue. (Had he ever noticed that before? He'd become so much more attuned to his surroundings lately. Either Kurt’s attention to visual details was rubbing off on him, or it was a side effect of the endorphins Kurt was imbuing him with.) She slapped Blaine’s back. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

He stood and walked toward the rink. The crowd hadn’t yet quieted down from its adulation of Tatsuki Machida, and Blaine couldn't blame them. He was amazing. But that talent couldn't carry the entire Japanese team. Japan focused on singles to the detriment of ice dancing and pairs. Blaine didn't need to worry about Japan. The real threats were Russia and Canada, both with well-rounded teams and Russia also having the home field advantage. But Mike and Kitty had blown Russia out of the water, and Madison and Mason had outscored even Canada with their rhythm dance. Blaine needed to keep the U.S. in the top three.

Blaine shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking about points or rankings, or that a chance at a medal for the entire team was resting on his shoulders. He needed to think about … nothing, actually. Or as little as possible. Just the music and the movement and the ice. That was how you made art: by taking all your work and practice and skill and experience, and sublimating them so that what arose felt magical, spontaneous, as if it had grown from the substance of the universe and not through any effort of one's own.

Blaine ran a hand over the line of rhinestones trailing over his hip. He thought of the countless rainbows hidden in their depths, and all the people who had to hide their souls like Blaine used to hide his—and still did, in smaller ways, especially with family. Cooper had messaged him twice since Blaine’s ultimatum, but Blaine had immediately archived both texts without reading. It was too big of a risk right now when Blaine needed to stay focused. If Cooper’s messages weren't an olive branch, but just another attempt at getting Blaine to make a public statement, it might have broken Blaine’s heart. A broken heart never helped in competition.

By not knowing what those messages contained, Blaine could pretend they said anything: things like Sorry and Go get ’em champ and Being yourself is the clearest statement you can make against Putin.

Blaine couldn’t free each person forced to hide in the shadows, but maybe his skating could strengthen a few enough to find their own liberation, the same way his spins and turns released the rainbows inside his rhinestones.

If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow why can't I? Blaine could, and they could. He would show them.

At the edge of the rink, Blaine looked past the flowers raining onto the ice to where Kurt was seated. He was far away in the stands, but he was looking at Blaine, smiling with his whole face. They hadn't had much time alone over the past couple days, but there had still been plenty of opportunities to tell Kurt that he loved him. Something had always stopped Blaine, though. Maybe it was fear that Kurt wouldn't be ready to say it back, and it would be awkward, and then they would be awkward, and then the wonderful buzz Blaine had been riding on for weeks would fizzle, and then he would crash, and he would forget how to do a quadruple Lutz or even a triple, and his newly rediscovered dreams would go swirling down the drain.

Besides, Blaine already felt Kurt’s love. It was in Kurt’s expressions and in his voice, in the way they interacted, in the way Kurt touched him and responded to his touch. It was better not to complicate things by trying to put them into words. Language was fraught and imprecise. If you said something and expected certain words back, it caused trouble. Speaking his feelings would only be an opportunity to create doubt where none had been.

But Blaine could use his body. He'd used it to express his love in the privacy of Kurt’s hotel room, and he could do the same out on the ice. He could show Kurt the way his love was awakening Blaine and transforming him. He could show the world what it meant to love.

The last of the flowers were cleared from the ice. It was time for Blaine to go on.

~~~

Blaine sat down between Sebastian and Sue, the rest of the team lined up behind them, and tried to stay detached while waiting for the scores to come in. It was a skill he'd worked on cultivating for years. It was also something he could never quite accomplish.

Sebastian handed him something soft and blue. “Your boyfriend insisted I give this to you for him.”

Kurt.

It was a tiny fabric bluebird, the same colors as the ones Blaine would sometimes see in the mountains of Colorado. The underside was soft hand-dyed velveteen that faded from turquoise at the throat to silvery white at the belly, the face and back a rich cerulean velvet covered by wings of layered silk the same color as Kurt's eyes.

Blaine smiled and kissed the little bird, waving at the camera in hopes it was projecting to the screens in the stadium so Kurt would see he loved it. Then Blaine settled in for the wait. He took deep breaths and focused on the soothing shape of the bluebird nestled in the palm of his hand. Kurt was with him. No matter what his ranking was, Blaine would be okay.

The score flashed on the screen.

Sue shrieked. Sebastian kissed him on the cheek and then grumbled, “Oh, God, why did I do that? You're so sweaty!” Mike squeezed him in a monster hug.

Blaine stared at the screen. It was his highest ever. Higher than Tatsuki Machida and higher than Kevin Reynolds and higher than Evgeni Plushenko. High enough to move Team USA to the top.

“I did my part!” Blaine said, stunned.

“Don't act so surprised!” That was Madison, leaning in for a hug. “We knew you would.”

The next few minutes were a blur. There were more hugs with the rest of the team, and some waving at spectators and cameras, and a few short words with journalists. The whole time, Blaine kept the little bluebird in his hand.

When Blaine finally made it to the corridor that led to the locker rooms, Kurt was already there, waiting for him. “You were brilliant!” Kurt said, wrapping his arms around Blaine. “I’m so proud of you.”

There were so many things Blaine was used to hearing from others when he did well. Praise, congratulations, tips for doing even better the next time. But not those words. They were rare from Sue, rarer from Cooper, rarest from his parents; and he had never heard them from a lover. They implied an exceptional level of intimacy; you couldn't be proud of someone unless you were invested in their success—in their whole being—as much as they were. Yet here Kurt was, ready to be proud of Blaine even when Blaine had forgotten to be, too preoccupied with relief at not failing the team that he hadn’t stopped to take in what he’d accomplished.

That’s when it hit Blaine. He had scored higher than his Russian competitor in Russia as Putin had looked on from the stands, forced to watch an American faggot outskate his countryman with his own eyes.

“I want you to be proud of me.” The words were more tremulous than Blaine had planned. “And—” He held the bird out toward Kurt. “—thanks for this little guy. You made it, didn't you?”

Kurt smiled coyly. “You recognize my signature style, huh?”

“When did you have the time?”

“It's small. It didn't take that long.”

“And you found the perfect fabrics.”

“I grabbed everything that shade of blue from my stash when I was in New York.”

“Don't downplay it. He's beautiful. I love him.”

Kurt's cheeks flushed. “I'm glad. I couldn't be there with you while you waited for the score. It felt like the next best thing.”

“It was.” Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand. “And I'm glad to be with the actual thing now.” Blaine couldn't stay all night in the back corridor with Kurt, of course. The ice dancing and ladies free programs were up next, and he needed to stick around to support his teammates. But he could enjoy a few minutes with the man he loved.

“And you smell incredible, by the way,” Kurt whispered.

“I smell like sweat.”

“Exactly.” Kurt’s voice dropped half an octave. “You sure you want to keep that costume on?”

Memories from Kurt’s bedroom flashed through Blaine’s mind, the sweat on their skin easing the friction between their bellies and thighs. “Not when you put it that way. But I have to keep it on. It’s good luck. Because you made it. And don’t worry. I'll let you help me take it off later. I’ll let you do a lot more than that.”

“Tonight? Back at my hotel?”

“Is that an invitation?” Logically, Blaine knew it was an invitation. But everything with Kurt was so incredible and new and outside of Blaine’s previous experience. It sometimes made it hard for him to trust his own instincts, even when he knew they were right. So he needed to double check.

“Of course.”

“Good. I was hoping for one.”

~~~

“Are you always this horny when you win?” Kurt said, lowering one hand to Blaine’s deliriously swollen cock and brushing his fingers along its length.

“I— I didn’t win, technically. It was all of us. The team.”

Blaine was ridiculous. Spread across Kurt’s bed in abject nakedness, every muscle of his body standing out in stark contrast against the white sheets—the most beautiful, talented man Kurt had ever laid eyes on—and he was still being modest. Kurt straddled Blaine’s thighs, nestling the seat of his briefs against Blaine’s erection, and began to unfasten the last few buttons of his own shirt as he leaned forward and whispered into Blaine’s ear, “You're part of the team. Your score made the difference between silver and gold.”

“It was a team effort.”

“I’ll show you a team effort.”

Blaine whimpered when Kurt kissed him. They had only been in the hotel room for five minutes and already Blaine was as worked up as if they had been going at it for an hour without relief. But maybe that's what happened to athletes when they won gold medals (and even to athletes who denied they had won them). Maybe from the moment the final score from the ladies’ skate was announced and the crowd had erupted into applause—more loudly for the Russians’ silver than for the Americans’ gold, of course, but not for any lack of effort on Kurt’s part—Blaine had been growing increasingly horny. Maybe the only thing that had kept him from sporting a full hard on during the flower ceremony had been his dance belt.

Kurt kissed down Blaine’s chest, pausing only long enough to throw his own shirt off before taking Blaine’s cock into his mouth. It was salty already with precome, huge and fully rigid, and it twitched in time with Blaine’s surprised moan. Kurt sealed his lips around the head and slid down, relaxing his tongue and throat to take as much of Blaine in as he could. Kurt loved this. He loved the way Blaine stretched his jaw and filled his mouth, and he loved the sound Blaine made as Kurt moved his tongue over the prepuce, and he loved the way Blaine whimpered as Kurt slid up and down, faster and faster, taking more and more of Blaine in with each plunge.

“Wait, wait,” Blaine panted. He slid up on the bed until his cock popped out of Kurt’s mouth. “I'm gonna come if you keep doing that.”

“And that’s a problem how?”

Blaine grumbled and pulled Kurt up beside him. “I don't want it to be over yet.”

“You seem horny enough to keep going even if you did come.” Kurt stroked Blaine’s dick. He really wasn't in the mood to let it go.

“I am. But it's not from winning. It’s all you, Kurt. You're so hot. And the bird you made me-"

"My bird made you horny?"

"Sort of? I mean, the fact that you made it for me. It's so romantic."

"Ahh. So romance gets you horny."

"Totally. That's why I want you all the time.”

“Oh yeah?” Kurt teased. “How do you want me?”

“I want you to fuck my brains out. But I also want—" Blaine flipped around on the bed, his cock hovering in front of Kurt’s face and his hands around Kurt’s thighs, yanking off Kurt’s briefs and murmuring “God, look at that,” when Kurt’s dick was free. Blaine's breath was warm on Kurt’s shaft, and then Blaine’s lips were, soft and gentle and kissing up and down, nuzzling affectionately like when he kissed Kurt on the lips. That once-hated phrase flashed again through Kurt’s mind—making love—because that's what Blaine was doing, kissing him so reverently, sucking him with sweet adoration, his mouth warm and wet, his tongue looping and circling around his head and down his shaft, strong suction, back and forth, in and out, until Kurt was giddier than he got watching Blaine do a combination spin.

Kurt was holding on to Blaine’s cock like a lifeline. He couldn't stop staring at it, hot and thick and leaking, so lovely Kurt never wanted to lose sight of it and breaking his heart because he wanted to taste it too, and he couldn't do both things at the same time, and Blaine was humming now, soft sounds that vibrated through Kurt’s dick and into his balls, and Kurt was lost in sensation. How had this bliss happened? Kurt had been in complete control and in a split second Blaine had turned everything on him, had made Kurt the panting and desperate one, unable to decide between a multitude of wonderful things.

Blaine let go of Kurt’s cock, and maybe that should have offered some relief from the relentless pleasure, but Kurt was still riding it in waves, being lifted higher as Blaine kissed the inside of his thighs, over the soft flesh of his ass, pushed Kurt’s legs open and pressed the pad of his finger against Kurt’s hungry hole.

Kurt gasped.

Blaine looked up from where he'd been staring between Kurt’s legs. “Is that okay? You can still fuck me later if you want to. This doesn't have to be a prelude to anything. I just really like your asshole. It's cute.”

Blaine’s finger was still there, resting while Blaine waited for confirmation. But even with its lack of movement, it sent sparks of desire skittering over Kurt’s skin and up his spine. Kurt didn’t know whether to moan in delight or laugh at how moved he felt by such an absurd compliment. The sound that finally came out of his mouth sounded like a sob.

“Hey, did I—” Blaine rotated himself on the bed so that he was now face to face with Kurt again. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Kurt wiped his eyes. “I think … I'm not sure anyone’s said that to me before. I guess my brain short circuited and good feelings came out as tears. It happens sometimes.”

“Well, they should have. It's all nice and tight and pink like a little rosebud, and I want to kiss it so bad. Would that be okay?”

“I thought … you wanted me to fuck you?”

“Sure, but this doesn't preclude that. Unless you want it to. Because honestly? We need a lot more than one session to get through all the things I want to do with you.”

With anyone else, not having a clear plan about who was going to bottom or who was going to top—or whether any bottoming or topping was going to be taking place—would have made it impossible for Kurt to move forward. He couldn't deal with those kinds of unknowns when he was naked with another person. It made him feel too vulnerable.

But now, here with Blaine, vulnerability became strength. Kurt didn't know what was going to happen and he didn't have any grand scheme for getting Blaine off. But that was okay. It was exciting not knowing what would happen next. Because he knew that with Blaine, whatever happened and even when Kurt didn't know what he was doing, he was safe.

“Me too,” said Kurt. “Follow your bliss, Blaine.”

Blaine did. The first light touch of his lips sent a frisson of heat up Kurt’s spine and made his eyelids flutter. Blaine’s mouth was warm and soft and— Oh. Kurt shivered.

He should have known Blaine would be good at this. He was amazing at kissing Kurt on the mouth. And this. This was … transcendent. Even the lightest of kisses here shot to Kurt’s core.

And when Blaine began to kiss more firmly, more insistently, his mouth and his tongue pressing against Kurt’s most vulnerable place—coaxing him open—emotions welled up in Kurt’s chest that he could not name.

They pushed against his throat, making him moan and gasp, and they made his eyes water, and they coursed through his body, setting everything alight. He felt like he might fly away if it weren't for Blaine holding tightly to his haunches, holding Kurt down and open and making him take the pleasure, every soft suck and every firm thrust of it, take more and more of it until Kurt’s desire and love and gratitude spilled from every pore.

It had never been like this before for Kurt. Never. No one had done this solely for Kurt’s enjoyment. It had always been a means to an end. Always, as the waves began to crest more forcefully, pushing Kurt deeper into transcendent desperation, a lover would suddenly pull away, reminding Kurt that the intimacy had been only a prelude, not an act of love in itself.

But Blaine didn't pull away. He kissed Kurt and he kissed Kurt and he kissed, tongue and lips and soul, his nose occasionally nudging against Kurt’s scrotum, his moans reverberating through Kurt’s body. When Kurt looked down between his legs he met Blaine's eyes, smiling in amber and gold, his eyelashes fluttering heavily. His hands were caressing Kurt’s hips, tethering him, as if the possibility of Kurt’s hole slipping away from Blaine’s sweet mouth was as anathema to Blaine as it was to him.

The truth of it struck Kurt with force. Blaine was enjoying this as much as Kurt was. Blaine was as desperate for Kurt’s fulfillment as Kurt was.

Energy sparked up Kurt’s spine, curled out through his chest and arms and up into his jaws and tongue. He cried out as the orgasm hit him, a sound like joy and weeping, his body quaking, his hands clawing at the sheets as Blaine moaned right into his core, devouring Kurt like a feast.

Blaine didn’t stop. He kept going, pushing Kurt further along the wave than Kurt had imagined it could carry him, taking him through peak and trough and back up to another peak, his eyes always on Kurt’s face, full of love.

Kurt reached down and grabbed Blaine’s hand as he crested the final swell, so intense it threatened to submerge him. Blaine responded, interlacing their fingers and giving Kurt something to hold on to, something to keep him afloat as he rode the wild tide. Kurt brushed his thumb over the back of Blaine’s hand, speaking with the gesture what he couldn't with his voice: I need you. I love you. We're in this together.

#december klaine fanworks challenge 2024 #day 17: tiger #wowbright writes fic #klaine fanfiction #Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU #my klaine advent

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