This Tastes Like Ashes on My Tongue

blaineitonthecourage:

Holy. Fuck. Everett is pretty sure that it’s nothing short of a miracle that keeps him from coming right then and there. The image Cameron paints flashes across his closed eyelids and his cock gives an interested twitch in response. Swallowing roughly, Everett forces his eyes open again and looks down at Cameron.

“You have been an awfully bad boy. Virgins aren’t this good at giving head. Who’ve you been practicing on, boy?”

Everett slaps Cameron’s face when he doesn’t answer quick and though it isn’t too hard, his palm print blooms red on the pale, sensitive skin and another wave of heat rolls through Ev. “I asked you a question.”

__________

“I hate being away from you. Late nights in the studio suck because I’d rather be here with you. I don’t sleep well when you’re not next to me.”

Rubbing Kurt’s back, Blaine lets his eyes droop closed, inhaling the scent of the man next to him, relaxing into the warm weight of Kurt in his arms. “Sleep, baby. You need it. I will be here when you wake up.”

Cameron gasps a little as Everett’s open palm makes contact with his face. The slap is hard enough that he feels the satisfying sting across his skin, but not so hard that any kind of permanent mark will be left. 

“N-No one, sir.” Cameron whispers, the most innocent of  whimpers escaping his lips. “I just…know what I want, thats all.” He stops stroking Ev’s cock, biting his bottom lip a little. “Just let me suck your cock, sir…you won’t regret it, I promise.”

Before the other man can protest, Cameron takes him fully into his mouth, thankful whatever gag reflex he had, had disappeared long ago.

—

“I know the feeling,” Kurt whispers sleepily, cuddling as close as he can to Blaine. If he had his way, neither of them would have to work the long hours that they do, often to just make ends meet. He’d rather it be that way, however, than them losing everything they’d worked for up to this point. Everything aside, he was glad Blaine was willing to work so hard, even at a job his fiancé didn’t necessarily care for, just so they could have a life at all.

“I’m scared, B. I don’t want the nightmares to come back,” His protest to sleep is weakened as he yawns, longer and more deeply this time. “You promise you’ll be here if they come back? You promise you’ll be here even if they don’t come back?”