devonwood:

Blaine likes to watch, which is perfect because both Kurt and Cameron like putting on a show. He lazily strokes his dick from a chair placed at the foot of the bed, just watching as twin mouths clash together and twin hands scrabble over heated skin.

He doesn’t think that he and Everett look like this when they’re together. They just fuck, quick thrusts and grunts in the dark. What Kurt and Cameron do is practically an art form, they way they curl around each other and writhe in a pile of twisted limbs against the sheets.

Kurt rolls Cameron onto his back and follows in one smooth motion that looks like one being, one movement from start to finish. He leans down, nips at Cameron’s collarbone on a well-bruised spot that never really has the chance to fade, and Cameron whines and twists his hips up in search of warmth and friction

Blaine could do this for hours, but the urgency on the bed forces him to pick up the speed of his hand. He twists his hand at the base, like Kurt does when he wants it hard and fast, and runs his other hand down his chest, like Cameron does when he wants it deliciously slow.

When twin voices cry out from the bed, Blaine knows it won’t be much longer. He slides down in the chair and props his feet against the end of the bed, allowing just the right amount of leverage so he can snap his hips up, thrusting into his fist.

stalkurt:

Kurt blinked, staring at the wall where his twin brother had been standing not too long ago, before he fled from the room, leaving poor Kurt confused, wounded and vulnerable. He inhaled deeply, turning back to the door and heading out to his brother’s room across the hall, flinging the door open.

“What do you mean you’re sick? Since when, Cam? When?” he shouted, his voice shaking with disbelief, his hands twitching, his heart pounding against his ribs. He could feel his stomach churning, his light lunch ready to make its way back up his throat. Since when? Why would Cameron hide something like that from him?

Cameron looked up from the book he was reading, oh so calmly and walked over to his twin, cupping Kurt’s cheek in his hand as he wiped away a runaway tear. Kurt let out a shaky breath waiting for an answer, searching for emotion, any emotion, somewhere in Cameron’s icy blue eyes. None showed.

“I warned you, Kurt,” he started to say. Kurt shook his head, attempting to protest, to rant about how unfair this all was. “There were conditions you agreed to before we started this whole thing.”

“No. Cameron. Please. Stop,” Kurt muttered. “This is absolutely idiotic. Those conditions were… Just tell me what’s wrong with you. You’re lying. You’re lying. You can’t be sick.”

Cameron hugged his brother close, pressing his lips to his forehead.

“I warned you,” he whispered. “I warned you not to fall for me.”