None of my drunk stories are really that interesting. I tend to be the person who remains one of the more sober when I’m in a group.
One time we made drunken gummy bears using rum, but we didn’t let them soak for the required three or four days, and instead only let them soak for a day. They were really, really bad. Probably because we used rum instead of vodka, also. They were the last of our stock of alcohol so we were pretty wasted by the point we tried to eat them. One of my friends and I gave up, but the other two kept eating them. They decided to put them in the blender and make a smoothie with the leftover mixers that we had, as you do, and for some reason the concoction that came out of the blender was white and frothy and evaporated really quickly. Mystery science.
Blaine sits at the bar, slumped over, his face mere inches away from the glass of straight scotch in front of him. It has been, as they say, a day. He and Kurt are on ‘a break,’ but he doesn’t want to be on one. Just because Kurt’s studying in Milan for the semester doesn’t mean that he wants them to be apart in another way, but Kurt had insisted, so Blaine had relented. Honestly, when Kurt got something in his head, it was usually better to just give in, no matter how much it had shattered his heart into a million little pieces.
He had no doubt that they’d get back together when Kurt returned, but just the thought that things were so… up in the air at the moment made him feel uneasy. Hence the sorrow drowning.
The glass decorating the bar in front of him was his fourth—fifth?—of the night and he was beyond drunk. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, his eyelids were drooping, his hands were picking at the edge of the napkin beneath his glass but he couldn’t really feel it. He was warm all over and as he always was when he was drunk, he was horny as hell.
“Hey,” a voice said to his left. His head turned, but it felt like it was filled with helium all of a sudden, tottering and bobbling as it turned. The guy sitting next to him…
“I love animation because in the world of animation, you can be anything you wanna be. If you’re a fat woman, you can play a skinny princess. If you’re a short, wimpy guy, you can play a tall gladiator. If you’re a white man, you can play an Arabian prince. And if you’re a black man, you can play a donkey or a zebra.”—CHRIS ROCK, introducing the Best Animated Film Oscar. (via inothernews)
Amanda thinks she has it all. An iphone, a macbook, a playstation 3, all the coolest things anyone could want. but then ONE DAY, she wakes up something isn’t right. Where her macbook once sat is a PC running windows xp. a nintendo gamecube is in the place of her ps3. she gets a call on a nokia flip phone from a friend who asks if she got her message about Green Day’s new album on myspace.com. that’s right; Amanda’s woken up in the year 2005. Naruto headbands. Quizilla.com. The word “emo”. This isn’t gonna be easy.
“Kurt,” Blaine chokes out, his head pulled back so far it’s distorting his voice. It’s weak and higher than usual, needy and bordering on hysterical. Kurt really can’t blame him.
They’ve been at it for so long. Much longer than usual. It’s slow and driving. It feels luxurious, having this much time just to be together. To feel and touch and just be. Kurt’s buried deep inside of Blaine, can feel him everywhere. He’s hot and tight, his back arched to pull Kurt in even deeper.
They’d showered first, touching and exploring much more than bathing, and Blaine’s hair is loose and curly, free from it’s usual gel and right there for the taking. The fingers of Kurt’s right hand are buried in the curls, gripping tight and pulling. It makes the dip of Blaine’s back even more pronounced, his voice even more ragged and desperate. For close to twenty minutes now, his cock has been dripping onto the sheets, so hard and so ready to come, but Kurt’s not ready. The moment can’t end yet.
He stays in deep and grinds, pushing his balls against the firm, supple swell of Blaine’s ass as he tugs a little harder on Blaine’s hair.
“God, don’t stop,” Blaine moans, pushing his ass back as he inclines his hair forward, increasing the pull and stuttering out a broken groan.
“Never,” Kurt whispers, pulling out slowly, memorizing the tight stroking heat of Blaine’s asshole around his cock. “Never.”
“You’re not going to get it in,” Kurt says as he steps closer, leaning over Blaine’s shoulder from behind so he can kiss his cheek. Blaine leans into him for a moment before he’s digging in his pocket again, pulling out another dollar.
“Last time, this time. For real,” Blaine promises, waving the attendant over and handing him the crumpled bill in exchange for three more balls.
“You know, if you want to prove your love to me I can think of plenty of ways that don’t require you throwing your money away,” Kurt purrs in Blaine’s ear. He looks around quickly — the carnival is closing soon, the midway nearly empty, so he chances it and presses his body along Blaine’s back, pushing his hips forward a little and hoping that Blaine will take the hint.
“Baby, that is very distracting,” Blaine says, shooting Kurt a fake glare over his shoulder, then wiggling away. He holds up the first ping-pong ball and closes one eye, lining up his shot. He tosses the ball in a neat arc. It’s a miss, and Blaine sighs. ”It’s summertime and I’m in love and I just want to win my boyfriend a goldfish, okay?”
“You’re cute,” Kurt says, rubbing his fingers into the slightly sweat-damp hair curling just above Blaine’s collar. He smiles when Blaine hums softly and leans into the touch. “I don’t need a goldfish, but I appreciate the thought.”
“I wish I were a better shot,” Blaine grumbles as the second ball misses. “I knew basketball was never going to be a thing for me, so…yeah.” He holds the last ball up in front of Kurt’s face. “Blow on it for good luck?”
Kurt rolls his eyes but blows obligingly on the ball, and Blaine gives him a bright smile. He tosses the small, scratched-up ball toward the array of goldfish bowls…
…and sinks his shot directly into the bowl in the center. Blaine leaps into the air with a shriek the likes of which Kurt has only ever heard him make in private.
“I won you a bunny!”
“No,” Kurt says, as Blaine leans over the railing of the game booth, surveying the available choices.
“No,” Kurt says, as Blaine points to the smallest bunny, a muddled gray-brown one with one floppy ear.
“No,” Kurt says as Blaine thrusts the bunny into his arms; a soft, snuggly bundle of fur accented by a tiny twitching nose. The bunny’s shaking slightly and Kurt instinctively holds it closer, rubbing his thumb over its head between its ears. It’s softer than any sweater I own, even. Blaine is grinning at him expectantly, his eyebrows raised, and Kurt sighs before giving him a small, grudging smile.
“See?” Blaine says happily. “This is way better than a goldfish. I love you a whole bunny’s worth.”
“Why couldn’t he just love me a whole blowjob’s worth?” Kurt whispers to the bunny, scratching behind its floppy ear.
Fic: Hold You Up and Drive You Pairing: Kurt/Blaine Rating: NC-17 Words: ~3,000 Warning(s): D/s themes, tie bondage, discussion of bullying and suicide. Spoilers: Up through 3x14, but goes slightly non-canon compliant with that episode because the timeline in it doesn’t make sense anyway. So consider this somewhat AU.
Note: Title taken, somewhat predictably, from Drive by Melissa Ferrick. Many thanks to river_b for helping this fic exist via text message, and to my beta overnighter, who is remarkably tolerant of my own control issues.
Summary: It’s the giving up, the way he gives himself up to Kurt, the slackness of his muscles saying do it. Make me do it.