Everything about the start of Buckeye Invitational Day was typical for a competition Saturday. When Kurt's alarm went off that morning – this morning – he greeted it with a smack to turn it off, a groan for being so rudely interrupted, and a curse at the aches and pains he already felt taunting him – ones that would surely be there at days' end. Without much more fanfare, he stumbled into the bathroom for a shower.

Just like every morning before a competition, he and Finn ate – at Carole's insistence – a huge breakfast. Beyond the fact that he didn't have time for his standard warm-ups at home, or even his quick reps on the rowing machine, it was a standard competition Saturday.

Call was at 7:30 am, earlier than usual. Still, like every competition Saturday, his mind was on one thing. Competing: nailing his charts; immersing himself into his solo; leading his section with class and authority, skill and precision; calmly taking the solo into a duet that would not only be accurate and pleasing to the judges, but also a showstopper for the crowd – wowing them to their feet if at all possible; enjoying the company of his friends and yes – enjoying the company of Blaine.

Things with Blaine had shifted after their rehearsal a few nights prior – alone on that practice field excising demons and saying things like I think we'd be amazing together. But, they were still undefined. Unsure. Un—just un- something.

As if they were waiting for one more piece of the puzzle to lock into place.

But this day, Buckeye Invitational day, a typical competition Saturday, was not the day to be concerned about such things.

And then, without any sort of warning or flashing lights or sounding sirens, his desire for Blaine – desire that has been building all summer long – percolated into this bumbling mess of ogling and want and yes-please-can-we-try and before he could even process it all, Blaine was kissing him on the Block O at Ohio Stadium.

It was not a standard competition Saturday.

And now, he's about to spend the night with Blaine. But, he's standing in the doorway to Blaine's room glued to the floor, his heart beating down into the pit of his stomach and up into his throat. At the same time.

He has spent nights with Blaine before. Somewhat forced sleepovers at band camp, of course, and the sleepover with Santana where he practically made love to the boy's feet. Then there was that one night they practiced so late, he sort of spent the night because they fell asleep. Kurt woke up with a start at 3 am when Rachel texted him about Finn and his bowel habits. He fled home so quickly he was stunned the night didn't end with a speeding ticket.

It did, however, end up with a grounding for missing curfew.

The point – this overnight-with-Blaine-deal – isn't new.

But here he is frozen anyway, and Blaine is standing at the foot of his bed looking at Kurt with his huge doe eyes and lips that taste like cinnamon-vanilla – he always wondered what flavor Chapstick Blaine used after performances – and now he knows without having to ask. He knows by taste.

Kurt cannot move from this spot.

"You can come in—"

"I know. I just—" He has to laugh at himself. At the day. At everything. Because what else is he supposed to do? "This day has been overwhelming."

Blaine's smile is so calming that when he approaches and slides Kurt's overnight bag off of his shoulder, takes hold of his hands and gently pulls him into the room, Kurt goes willingly. Happy to not have to think about it any longer.

The room is the same as it is every time he's here. It's tidy and well-organized. Dark walls with lovely wood – cherry? – Kurt's not sure of those details, but definitely high quality furnishings. His robot collection scatters the shelves amongst books about musical theater and jazz, of science fiction and fantasy. It's a room that is lived in often, that Blaine has made his own in a house that doesn't feel much like home at all.

But, Kurt isn't the same as the previous times he's been here. And he assumes Blaine isn't. And he knows they aren't. The newness of everything is spinning around them, a zephyr gently disrupting the ease they once had here. "We don't have to make it more overwhelming. I just—I didn't want the day to end without you next to me."

When Blaine's voice breaks over his last words, and his eyes shine with sincerity and the earnestness that has driven Kurt to a point of madness since the day they met, Kurt's nerves loosen just enough that he slides his hands up Blaine's arms. He cups his face in his hands and kisses him, firmly, confidently. He kisses him with all of his might and while he's acting confident about it, he's still not quite sure he's doing this kissing thing right, except that it feels amazing. Every time.

And all of this kissing is making him feel things all over his body. His lips, of course, tingling and soft and longing for more more more of Blaine's. And when Blaine teases at his bottom lip – after only a day of this, that seems to be the pattern so far – Kurt can't help the noises he makes, can't help that he clutches onto Blaine even more tightly, can't help the rush that goes straight to his gut. Which of course, elicits more noises, more clutching and more kissing.

It's a cycle he thinks he might get accustomed to.

It's a cycle he thinks he's already accustomed to.

His dad was right.

He groans at his stupid brain – at bringing his dad into this. He charges forward again, moaning at Blaine's hand on his jaw holding him like he means it and when they break apart and rest their foreheads together and try to remember how to breathe, Kurt can't help but roll his eyes and chuckle at the stupid stupid route his brain has taken.

"Something funny?"

"I just—my dad. And—no. I'm not bringing my dad in here any further than he already is."

"Oh-ho no, sir." Blaine takes a step back and sits on the edge of the bed, tugging at Kurt to sit down with him. "What does your dad have to do with the best kisses to have ever been kissed?"

Kurt blushes at that – Blaine's obviously being generous knowing he's new to all of this, because surely his kisses aren't the best. Not yet, anyway. "Last year. We had the talk—"

"Oh, god. That had to have been awful."

"It was. And it wasn't because he didn't try to go over mechanics or anything – he had pamphlets for me for that, but—" Kurt stopped himself and laughed at the look on Blaine's face – a cross between amusement and pained misery. Which pretty much summed up the experience of the talk. "He mostly talked to me about the heart of it all. The connection." When Kurt stops to take a breath he looks at Blaine and relaxes – a little. Connection. "He said that once you—" But not for long. He's talking about sex with a gay boy alone in his bedroom and the gay boy is his boyfriend who he just kissed for the first time today and this is officially the most amazing day ever. And also the most frightening because now he has to finish that sentence. "Once you...start. Having sex. You don't want to stop."

"We don't have to do—tonight. We don't have to do anything. I meant what I said that I just wanted—"

"I know." Kurt looks at Blaine again – into his eyes and the thing is, Blaine's eyes are betraying his words. Blaine wants. And so does Kurt. "But, I keep thinking that if I feel this way just about kissing you – that I could do it for the rest of my life and never get tired of it and really, it's been too long already since you've kissed me—"

Blaine fixes that dilemma quickly and completely.

"Mmm...about kissing you—god, you are really good at that."

"Thank you. So are you."

"I have no idea what I'm doing."

"You most assuredly do."

Kurt takes a breath to shoot back something smart, but stops himself and finishes his thoughts before Blaine almost kisses them out of his head. "If I feel this way about just kissing you, I'm almost afraid of how I'm going to—" Kurt gives up talking and falls backwards onto the bed. "I need today to spread out over a month."

Blaine's quiet beside him for long moments and Kurt's afraid he's said something wrong or too openly or something. Long moments are really long when you don't know what the other person is thinking. And when you just wish they'd kiss you again already now, please. He feels the bed shift and Blaine is up and away from it clicking on his iPod, fiddling until he finds a playlist he's happy with.

"Jazz okay?"

Kurt simply nods. Jazz is good for spontaneous self-combustion, he's sure of it.

The bed dips again and Kurt follows Blaine's motions up to the head of the bed and has to smile when he opens his arms up to Kurt. "Come up here with me."

So he goes and without a second thought, curls up into Blaine's left arm, snuggling right into the crook of it where his cheek can rest on his chest. Where he can feel Blaine's heart thumping quickly and steadily. Where he can smell Blaine's shower gel and fabric softener. Where he realizes he feels better than he's ever felt near anyone in his entire life. "This is—this is nice."

"Yeah? Comfy?"

With an extra nuzzle in close and a daring curl of his leg over Blaine's – yes. He could most definitely get used to this. "Comfy. Not so overwhelmed."

"Good. Maybe we'd better talk before we go back to the kissing portion of our evening?"

Kurt groans. He's not proud of it. He sounds like his dad just asked him to take out the garbage and someone – FINN – forgot to do it the night Carole made chicken breasts and there is rotting meat in it and Blaine's lips are on his head and he's cricketing their legs together and this is nothing like when his Dad asks him to take out the disgusting garbage.

So, he swallows and hikes up a little higher in Blaine's arms and rests his hands on Blaine's stomach and it's nice and soft, yet clearly muscular and he's in a boy's arms. A beautiful boy's arms. A boy who asked him to be in his arms. And this wasn't supposed to happen in high school because high school sucks and is in Bum Fuck Bassackwards Ohio and Blaine's lips really are amazing. He's just looked up to them again and he's staring at them, he knows it. "I'm not—I'm not even doing so well at the talking either."

"Maybe we need another kiss – for fortification."

"Yes, please."

Blaine sinks his fingers into Kurt's hair and the noise he makes when Blaine's lips meet his most definitely is nothing like anything he's uttered before, especially not when his dad asks him to do something he'd rather not do. Because this, this he'd rather do every minute of every day for the rest of—

Blaine shifts and Kurt feels—Blaine is hard. And Kurt clearly is hard, but he was hoping to keep that to himself a bit longer and oh my god. Blaine is hard from kissing him.

But, Blaine pulls back before Kurt can get too attached to the feel of it against his thigh and he's breathing heavily and stroking his cheek with his finger, looking at him like he's the most beautiful boy to ever exist. And he thinks maybe in this setting, with this boy – maybe, next to him anyway – he just might be. "Blaine..."

"I'm—I'm sorry. We're supposed to be talking."

Kurt sinks back to where he was before, where his cheek is on Blaine's chest and he doesn't have to look him in the eye to do this talking, but he's still here, wrapped up in him. In the feel and weight and softness and lines and boy of him. "It's—it's more than okay. But—we should talk." Kurt focuses on the tight weave of knit in Blaine's shirt – desperately trying not to stare at the slight bulge that remains at his crotch. "Have you ever been with—before?"

"No. Just a little kissing. I had a boyfriend of sorts last year, but—"

"There were guys to pick from at Wapak?"

Blaine chuckles and it rumbles under Kurt's cheek and he blushes at how silly that must have sounded. Of course there were other gay boys in Wapak, just like there are at McKinley. They just don't all wear Pride flags as overcoats.

"No, actually. He's from Dalton. Took trumpet lessons right before me. He'd wait for me and Mom finally let me stay late. She'd shop. We'd get coffee. She'd pick me up and we'd sneak a goodbye kiss behind a column at the drop-off turn-around."

"How very teen movie of you."

"Quite. He kept inviting me to his dorm room, but I just wasn't comfortable."

"And yet, you're here with me now..."

"Kurt. I—I feel things for you I never felt for him. I have for a long while now."

Kurt's felt it too. He's fought it from disbelief, but he's felt it and now there's no more fight left in him. "We have sort of been doing this awhile, haven't we?"

"It's like we've been acting so much of it out without naming it."

"Or moving on to Act II." Kurt hikes up and presses his lips to Blaine's, soft and brief, snuggling back down into his arms before anything more happens. "I'm sort of fond of Act II."

"Me too. And, this doesn't have to be—I mean, you're right. Today has been overwhelming and if you want to just—like bandcamp. Or at your house with Snix. Or whatever, I'm—I'm okay with that. I just want you to be comfortable."

"I'm comfortable. And—" Kurt pushes himself up to sit and tentatively hovers his hand over Blaine's thigh, looking up to him for permission. When Blaine covers Kurt's hand with his own and lowers it to rest where it had been hovering, Kurt expels a gust of held breath and watches as Blaine's fingers gently caress his knuckles. "I don't want tonight to be like bandcamp. Or our other sleepovers."

When he looks up from their hands, Blaine is there gazing at him with eyes darker than he's seen so far today. He swallows and squeezes Kurt's hand, nodding in agreement. "No. I really don't either, but it's okay if it—" Blaine bites his lip and Kurt wants to bite his lip, but waits. Talking. They're supposed to be talking. "What's your—what's your line? Your stopping—how far—"

"I don't know. I always thought I'd know when the time came. And now that we're here, I don't think I really have a line anymore."

"Kurt—"

"Unless you do. Then—" Kurt pulls his hand away from Blaine's grasp, wanting to find somewhere else to touch without it being so freaking warm to his fingers and he settles with just holding Blaine's hand in his own lap. "Then I want to honor that and not do—I don't want to make you uncomfortable either, but my dad said—" Kurt groans and buries his face in his hands. His freaking dad needs to leave the scene already.

"Hey." Blaine peels Kurt's hands away from his face, and flashes that calming smile, all teeth and soft lips and warm eyes. "What did your dad say?"

"He said that sex for guys is often just about the—the physical." Kurt looks up into the room to search for his water. He's parched and really would like to not be talking anymore and get back to the kissing.

Blaine follows his line of vision and crawls over to get both of their glasses from his desk. "I wish my dad had talked to me about anything like this. Mom acts like sex is just a figment of everyone's imagination."

"Well, Dad's honest – to a fault." Kurt gulps down half of his water and charges ahead. "So, he thought that when it's two guys, they're both more into the physical. So, he wanted me to be sure that when it was time – for anything – that I'd make sure it was about connecting with someone. Not just. You know. Getting off." Kurt chugged back the rest of his water and blushed when he resurfaced to find Blaine looking at him with great amusement. "Cotton mouth."

"Mmm. So. What does that mean for us? Tonight? Another night?"

"It means, that I don't think it is just physical. Like we said, we've been dancing around this awhile now. The connection—am I over-analyzing? It's—it's been there, right?"

"It has for me."

"So. Maybe if we just—go with it? I don't think I'm ready for everything tonight, but—"

"Oh god, Kurt." Blaine breathes out his words and re-catches the breath like it might be his last. His fingers brush over Kurt's cheek and all Kurt can do is close his eyes and soak in the feeling of it.

"Can we go back to the kissing?"

Blaine kisses Kurt's right cheek. "Always." Then his left. "Anytime." And with one smooth move, he curls his arm around Kurt, pulling him down onto his back, settling in next to him to dot kisses over his lips and down his jawline. "Whenever and wherever you'd like."

~~~**~~~

Within the next hour, Kurt is convinced they are the two best kissers to have ever kissed. It's a reasonable summation seeing as they kissed for the first time only six hours ago. And already, he knows that Blaine is especially responsive when Kurt gently sucks on his tongue. And he knows that he is responsive when Blaine is responsive because the sounds Blaine makes go straight to his dick.

Which has been in a constant state of just-shy-of-hardy-hard-hard since they had their little talk. Kurt knows what it will take to remove the just-shy-of bit and that's friction. They've had moments of it, but then one or both of them gets a moment of clarity – panic? – and they pull back, stop kissing, hold each other and catch their breath. Which isn't so bad either. Being in Blaine's arms is damned nice.

Someone starts kissing the other's neck – usually Blaine kissing Kurt's although Kurt has discovered the amazing sensation of slight scruff against tender skin and he's thinking kissing Blaine's neck might be seconded only to kissing his lips – and they're back at it again and finally Kurt can't take the just-shy-of anymore, so he curls a leg around Blaine's, hoping, dear god please, hoping to nudge him closer. Over. Please, come here.

And Blaine does, if but a little, hiking up and slinging a leg over Kurt's thighs, hovering, still kissing and nipping and kissing down his jaw, sucking an earlobe into his mouth and Oh! That is particularly nice and before Kurt has time to wonder what horrible sounds he's making he's rolling his hips up and meeting—

Air. Not what he wants. "Blaine...please."

Blaine kisses his way back from the curve of Kurt's neck, his weight resting on his elbows and knees and he looks down at Kurt. All Kurt can do is whisper an airy oh god because Blaine looks absolutely wrecked. His lips are swollen and his curls are all over the place, fingers having tugged and pulled and pillows having smushed and skewed the normal round bounce of them. His eyes are shining, dark and puffy as if he needs sleep. Or is it that his eyelids are drooping, so far into the moment that opening them completely would be too much work? His cheeks are flushed and his breath is ghosting across Kurt's face like a summer breeze.

Kurt could die right now and not feel like he's missed a thing because he's seen this boy, this way, and it's all for him.

"Too—too much? Should we take a bre—"

"No!" Blaine's eyes do pop open at Kurt's immediate response and then a smile spreads across his face, making Kurt's toes curl. "No. I want—could you?" Kurt spreads his legs a little and Blaine instinctively responds by bringing his legs inside of Kurt's. "Yes and then—lay down? On me?"

"Okay. Let me—can I take off my—" Blaine lifts his weight from one arm and tugs at his collar his eyebrows lifted in question.

"Yes. Oh god yes. Sit back. Yes." And Blaine sits back on his haunches and Kurt's up and helping Blaine peel out of his shirt, then letting Blaine lift Kurt's shirt up over his head and they're there, shirtless, and it shouldn't be a big deal because – bandcamp – but nothing at all is anything like bandcamp. It's not nerves of seeing, of accidentally bumping into each other in the night, of walking in on the other's morning routine, of being so sweaty after practice you barely make it to the privacy of your dorm before stripping off your drenched shirt to sponge-bathe and dig out another one. It's none of that.

It's Kurt. And Blaine. With one thing in mind and Blaine's chest is so nicely defined – wide at the shoulders and so perfectly trim at the waist, the faint lines of his abdominals begging to be outlined by Kurt's tongue. And he's not self-conscious about himself, as he feared he'd be. He knows that underneath the pale, white – in places gossamer – skin are some well-defined muscles, his own faint outlines of abdominals, broad shoulders and trim waist. And he sees it in Blaine's face, how pleased he is. And how quickly he charges forward again, lowering Kurt back onto the bed, the moan shared between them as their bare chests and bellies touch and shift together and then without thinking again, when Blaine tugs ever so gently on Kurt's bottom lip – how he loves that – Kurt's hips are rolling again and oh oh oh!

This is what he wants. This is what he's been longing for. Not the occasional nudge of Blaine's erection on his thigh, or the accidental bump of Blaine's arm over the bulge of his own pants when they shift, but the honest to goodness weight and line and press of boy against boy.

This boy. This boy who is rolling his hips down to meet Kurt's moves and the moans in his ear and his lips kissing lower and lower to his neck and across his clavicle and they're still moving together when Blaine starts kissing back up again. Kurt throws his head back, exposing his neck and squeezing his hands in Blaine's mussed curls when Blaine takes the invitation to lavish his neck with kisses and licks and the softest suckles that simply make him shiver in delight.

"God. Kurt. You feel—"

"Amazing. I know. I can't—"

Blaine shifts a little and they both groan and smile into breathy laughs at the ridiculousness of how amazing it all feels until Kurt finds words again. "I can't—" His hips roll again and they're getting more insistent, both of them and the kissing has slowed down because there's so much going on below and maybe they should think ahead of what's next and—

"Is this okay? Do I need to—"

"No. It's. God, Blaine." Rolling and moving and fabric rubbing and pressure and weight and lips and muscular arms and bare skin and Kurt's systems are firing everywhere, rolling and rolling and—"Can we—pants? Can we—"

Blaine is up before Kurt can finish his sentence, hovering, still dotting Kurt's neck and shoulders and even lower with kisses, his fingers of one hand fumbling with the snap of his slacks and Kurt watches and sees the tent of them and how—oh god. He reaches up and helps, batting Blaine's hand away, unsnapping and unzipping and Blaine makes a deep, guttural noise that fills the room as Kurt's fingers skim over the waistband of them and they stop.

And the only sound now – no more moans, no more lips smacking, no more shifting duvet – is their breathing as they stare at each other, Kurt's thumbs in Blaine's waistband. "Just—just the pants, or—"

Blaine swallows and bends, tracing one of Kurt's nipples with his tongue and then sucking it into his mouth, smiling around it as Kurt arches into it. "What do you want? What should we—"

"B—both? Everything? I just want to feel—oh god, Blaine."

Blaine sucks his other nipple into his mouth and Kurt scoops the waistband of Blaine's underwear under his thumbs and waits. "Yes. Both. Both is—god, yes. Just—" Blaine sits up and helps Kurt push his pants down and Kurt lifts up just a bit to watch. Yes, to watch and to see and to wonder and oh dear god, he simply is the most beautiful boy to ever exist.

"Oh my god, come here. Come here. Be on me, please." He grabs at Blaine and pulls him down, ignoring Blaine's grunt when the wind is slightly knocked out of him and when he pulls back a bit for some reason and why is he pulling back now. There's skin and beautiful boy and he's naked on top of him and oh.

"Kurt. Wait. Honey." Blaine chuckles again and moans when Kurt catches his earlobe and drags his teeth along it. "Oh god, that's good, but—" Somehow Blaine's weaseled his way out of Kurt's arms and is sitting up on his haunches again and he's naked and oh my god, he's so hard and the head of his penis is this gorgeous dusty pink and it's bobbing there and the hair at the base is dark like the hair on his head and there's a trail of it from his belly button and really, Kurt shouldn't be so enamored – he looks just like himself.

Only it's not himself. It's Blaine and he's naked and ready for Kurt. For Kurt. And Blaine's unsnapping Kurt's pants now and he gets it. He locks eyes with Blaine, scared – honestly – and ready and so fucking ready and—"I'm sorry. I sort of got excited."

"I'm glad. I'm glad you want me."

"Oh god, you have no idea." Kurt arches into the pull of his zipper and suddenly understands that guttural moan Blaine had exuded earlier. It's the friction and the promise all wrapped into one slow, tortuous motion.

"Oh, I think I do." Without the pause in question they shared when Kurt shed Blaine of his pants, Blaine dips down to lave kisses over Kurt's stomach, hooking his fingers into the front of his pants and underwear, pulling them down as he goes and Kurt instinctively hikes his ass up to get them off and Blaine's mouth is wet and warm and soothing over his stomach and oh my, he's close to everything, but then, all the fabric is around his thighs and it's really up to him to get it all off all the way.

He tries to be smooth and cool about it like in the movies he's found online, but he's not and Blaine giggles and Kurt rolls his eyes and finally caves to the silliness of it and pulls Blaine back down on top of him once they're finally shed and now – now – they are fully naked and Kurt didn't even think for a moment that Blaine was seeing him because now he's feeling him and it all feels unbelievable.

They moan in unison, long and drawn out, hissing at the contact, their dicks slotting together, dragging a bit with skin on skin, but within a few stuttered, miscalculated movements and adjustments, they're there and it's – everything. The drag and the pull and the push and Blaine's perfect, perfect weight on him and his mouth on his mouth and his tongue in his mouth and then down his jaw again and his breath in his ear and Kurt is so lost in it all. He drapes a leg around Blaine's backside and pulls him in closer and Blaine's up out of his neck, all kissing ceased and it's just movement and rolling and friction and yes, there, yes, and Kurt's so close he can feel the twisting low in his gut and it's glorious. Blaine's eyes are closed, then opened, staring down at him and pushing harder and stuttered and harder and then there's a strangled Kurt and Kurt feels the wet striping his stomach just as Blaine's eyes clench shut and he's throwing his own head back, overcome with how sexy and hot and amazing and outlandish it all really, really is.

Blaine slows and steadies and lowers his head into the crook of Kurt's neck, catching his breath and Kurt's so fucking close but Blaine's spent and hardly moving and oh god, he thinks he might die, trying to roll to find Blaine's thigh or something that's the perfect pressure of it all. Blaine kisses his way up Kurt's neck and smiles, lazy and face shimmering with sweat, the ringlets of curls damp and framing his face. "Put your hands on me, Blaine. Please. Please."

"Yes. Yes, oh god, yes. I'm so—I'm sorry." And Blaine slides off of Kurt and Kurt whines as the cool air hits his naked body, but he's arching up to Blaine's touch that's not there yet and why isn't he touching yet?

Kurt peels an eye open and Blaine's there just looking at him. His hand slides up Kurt's thigh and his eyes trace up and down Kurt's abdomen and he's not touching and oh my god touch me and why aren't you— "Is—is everything okay?"

"You—I've never seen—not in real life and—oh, Kurt." Blaine finally, tentatively wraps his hand around the shaft of Kurt and holds it there for a moment, watching Kurt react to the touch. Kurt's body arches into Blaine's touch, the droplets of Blaine's come dripping down the sides of his belly, his fingers gripping at the sheets beneath him. His face is slack with pleasure and only when Kurt brings his hand up to show what he likes, does Blaine move. He slides his fist up Kurt's length, up and over the head, groaning when his fingers slick with the moisture already there. "You are stunning. Beautiful. Oh my god. Look at you."

And Kurt could wallow in Blaine's praise, but Blaine's touch, the perfect pace, the perfect – almost perfect— "Maybe. Um. A little tighter?"

"Yes, yes..." Blaine complies and bends down to lick at a nipple, to steal just a simple chaste kiss from his lips, mumbling his question over them. "Like this?"

"Just like—" He can't speak. He's been waiting so long. Pushed so close and with little warning, he clamps his hand on Blaine's thigh, squeezing when the coils of his orgasm spin tight and spring free, more intense and pleasurable than any he's ever enjoyed alone and he feels like he comes for hours and it surely takes him hours to come down and Blaine's hand never leaves him as he does, slowly milking him and the slick slide of it eases him back to some semblance of reality, not even caring that he's getting oversensitive because Blaine's touch is just that perfect.

He's blissed out. He's high. He's exhausted. He's so completely—he opens his eyes and Blaine's still sitting there, his come-covered hand resting peacefully on Kurt's hip. He's still staring as though he's looking at some supernatural god and all Kurt can do is drag a finger up Blaine's arm to his face, smiling in absolute peace when their eyes meet again. "Oh my god."

"That was—that was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."

Kurt can't help the chuckle that breathes out of him. He feels the same. And sadly, he's starting to feel gross. But not. Because it's them. And the first of them. The most secret of them and Kurt doesn't feel naked at all. "Can we shower?"

"Yes. Then can we do that again?"

"Yes."