Request:
here is the reminder u asked for to write about kurt and tantric sex <33333Sorry for taking so long to write this out. Had a busy work week, and also the opposite of a writer’s block hit me, so I was writing out like, fifteen different things, but only writing them maybe three or so sentences at a time before my brain decided I had to work at writing something else. Which sounds like it would be great, but it actually ends up being a whole lot of nothing actually getting written. But it’s alright, because here is some Kurt smut. And the first smut where a condom isn’t involved! Which means you can go ahead and assume that reader and Kurt are married in this one, basically. Or don’t. It’s whatever floats your boat really, meine Freunde. asd
The scene was set perfectly: Kurt’s bedroom, your bedroom, the lights turned off, the curtains drawn closed, lit only by the flickering flames of near countless candles, mostly mild scents to relax the body and mind, to counterbalance the more exotic and tantalizing scent of the massage oil that was handily left out on the bed for easy use, the bed itself neatly made with sensually satiny sheets. The door was locked, music turned on, loud enough to be heard without becoming a distraction. Safe.
The characters were in place: Kurt sat kneeling in the middle of the bed, yourself sitting on his lap, straddling his hips, legs loosely wrapped around his back. Your body gleams slightly in the flickering lights, and Kurt’s fur is slightly slicked down, the residual oil from when the both of you took turns massaging and rubbing each other down, so your bodies glided smoothly against each other when you pressed together. Your nipples were hard where they brushed against Kurt’s hard chest with each slow inhale, his shaft lay hard and hot against your core, nestled perfectly against your folds, the only real sign of just how high his adore was running, his hands gentle and face relaxed.
The curtains were about to be drawn, practice done and over with and the first act ready to be played…
When you found yourself suffering from a bit of stage fright.
“Are you sure we really need to make eye contact the whole time?”
It was the fifth time you’ve asked that question, though the first time since you’ve gotten into the “correct” position, and you were sure that anyone else would have been annoyed by it by now, but the corner of Kurt’s lips just quirked up, a rakish little grin as he gave you a reassuring squeeze of your hip, encouraging you to raise your gaze once more to the golden glow of his eyes. “Deep breaths and eye contact are really necessary, ja, mein Liebling. It ensures a deeper connection.”
You managed to last a good seven seconds before you lowered your head with a groan onto Kurt’s shoulder, giving up the good posture you’d kept to slump, butting the side of your head lightly against his jaw when you heard and felt him chuckle at you.
“It’s not funny, you blue jerk,” you grumbled, with absolutely no heat in your voice whatsoever. “Eye contact is haaaaaard. It has always been hard. I couldn’t beat a hamster at a staring contest.”
Yab-Yum
Published
Toad's Cave 