"Is it finally tomorrow?" Kurt hikes up on one elbow and peeks over Blaine's head to see his bedside clock. It reads 12:25 and Kurt flops back down nuzzling in closer, tucking one knee in between Blaine's. "It's tomorrow."

"You wanted yesterday to end?"

"No. Yes. Not because it wasn't perfect because it was, but now I feel like maybe I can breathe again."

"I don't want it to be today yet though."

"I'll have to go home."

Blaine nods and reaches forward to place a soft kiss to Kurt's lips. "We still have twelve hours."

"We do. I'm so fucking tired, but I don't want to waste it sleeping."

"Maybe just a nap?"

"Okay." But Kurt doesn't close his eyes and neither does Blaine. "I can't stop staring at you. Like if I close my eyes and open them again, I'll wake up from a dream."

"A very good dream."

"A perfect dream. But I don't want this to be a dream. It has to be real."

"It's real. It's perfect."

"You're perfect."

"Oh no. Don't put that on me!" Blaine kisses the tip of Kurt's nose and scoots in even closer, his fingers dragging lazy lines up and down Kurt's sides and back.

"Just tonight. You can be perfect just tonight."

"We can be perfect. It's a deal."

~~~~**~~~

Santana [10-09-11 3:12am]: You guys need to take a fuck break and get over here to the party.

"She is such a class act. You know how to pick 'em."

"She's especially classy when she's drunk. I'm surprised there aren't any typos. Do you wanna go over? Make it so I'm not really lying to my dad?"

"Kurt..."

"I'm sorr—look. It's fine. This one time. I just can't make a habit of it because – he's—"

"I get it. Just this one time. And yeah, we can stop over. There can't be many people left, can there?"

"Awake? Probably not. Most everyone stays so they don't have to drive home though."

Santana [10-09-11 3:16am]: Serouislu? Have you even stopped to hydrate? Shuld I call a squad? Do gays work like dogs, knotting so u can jst stay there and come and come and come?

"There are the typos."

Kurt [10-09-11 3:18am]: Do I have to put pants on or are most people already naked?

"KURT! Oh my god."

"Oh, now you're going to get pristine? Mr. Let's Stay Naked So We Don't Waste Time For The Next Round?"

"I didn't hear you arguing my logic."

Santana [10-09-11 3:20am]: My gaybies DID get laid! Oh holu of holies! Gt ur come soaked asses ovr here nwo so I can kiss all over u.

"Welcome to drunk Snix. I'd apologize, but I'm not the one who made her that way."

Before Kurt can come up with a smart answer, Blaine's up and tossing Kurt's underwear to him. "Yeah, this I need to see in person. Thirty minutes tops. And then we need to get back to not sleeping."

"I love not sleeping with you." Blaine's boxer briefs are only dangling on one leg, but he falls onto the bed, onto Kurt anyway, laughing all the way as their lips crash together in a messy, poorly choreographed kiss.

An absolute continuation of their perfect night.

~~~**~~~

Blaine stirs awake and while morning is never his favorite time of day, this day, he's all smiles. He's not alone in his bed and the lovely being making the "not alone" bit real is rolled onto his stomach, one long muscular leg curled out from under the bed sheet while the other is stretched out still within it. There is just a hint of butt-cheek peeking from the rucked fabric, smooth skin leading up to the sweet dip of waistline and firm, well-toned back. In essence, the boy lying next to him is more than he could have ever dreamt of. In body, in humor, in passion in talent. In everything.

Blaine takes a moment to pop and stretch his back and settles down next to Kurt, curling his body to his form as he dots gentle kisses along his back and shoulders, not wanting to wake him completely but hoping he stirs just a little. If he's learned nothing else in the past twenty-four hours it's that everything is better with Kurt. Awake, responding, kissing, moving, moaning coming—oh god, when he—

Blaine groans at his own thoughts, pushing his hips against Kurt's backside wondering if he'll ever experience life again without being at least somewhat turned on. And then Kurt mewls – like a sleepy cat he freaking mewls – and presses back against Blaine and no. He will never experience life again without being at least somewhat turned on.

And that is really, not such a bad deal. As long as Kurt is there.

Blaine slides his hand up Kurt's side and stills, letting Kurt settle back into sleep if that's what he wants and just about dies waiting to see what he's going to do, his lips itching to kiss, his body thrumming with want to touch and press and hold.

"Why'd you stop?"

Blaine smiles against Kurt's shoulder blade – unable to resist at least resting his lips on his satin skin – and purses his lips to complete the kiss. "I wanted to let you sleep."

"When you offer this as the alternative?" Kurt curls up on himself, stretching his back and unfurls, morning groans syncing with every move. When he stretches out full, he turns to face Blaine, a sleepy smile and a flop of bang draped over his forehead. "Good morning."

"Good morning, indeed."

Their kiss meets in the middle and stutters as they kick and flail at the sheets tangled around their legs preventing them from twining together. With a huff of irritation, Blaine finally finds purchase to pull away, chuckling at their lack of coordination as he manually throws the fabric back to reveal their nudity. And stares. Again.

"Blaine. C'mere. It's cold without you."

Everything is slow and stretchy as Blaine lowers back down, muscles pulling and relaxing as they welcome their bodies to the morning, easing out of sleep and into each other again. Soft kisses and whispered sighs, fingers sinking into sleep mussed hair, the edges of it fuzzed with the fog of a new day, the emotional hangover of the day before.

They're quickly heating, kisses more insistent, more demanding and Blaine's torn between the want, the need and this niggling desire he's had since the first rehearsal where they met.

Where Kurt was short and snippy and just the perfect snot to him – the new kid who had an attitude of compliant cockiness – but was so lovely, so controlled in his fury that Blaine was left with an odd amused attraction. An attraction to Kurt's drive, to his lips, to the thick tuft of hair that flopped when he'd turn a sharp flank, to his lips, to the strength of his legs – legs that he's now felt wrapped around him, pulling him in closer and closer – to his lips. To everything that convinced him that moving to Lima Ohio was probably the smartest thing his father ever suggested.

He goes with his niggling desire, pulling back, giggling boyishly as Kurt chases his mouth as he retreats.

"No. Come back. Is it my morning breath?"

Kurt flops back and Blaine kisses his cheek tenderly. "No. I didn't even notice."

He covers Kurt's cheek and temple, nose and corner of his mouth with dry, soft kisses, dotted between words. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Yes. Anything."

"Don't kiss back."

"What? How am I supposed to not—"

"Shhh. Just let me—" Blaine straddles Kurt's hips and grins at the curiosity painted all over his face. "Just for a minute." He slowly runs the tip of his tongue over Kurt's bottom lip, knowing his idea is working when Kurt's breath stutters beneath him. "Your lips—" Two soft kisses to Kurt's loose lips and he delicately sucks his bottom lip in, pulling away as Kurt gasps. "I've wanted to do this since—" Brushing his lips across Kurt's, no kisses, just touch and breath and soft skin, "Since that first night."

He completes his worship with a tongue-led kiss to the bow of Kurt's lips, where after rehearsals and performances, practice and warm-ups, it lures him, red and puffed from his mouthpiece. From his passion of the music. It's the slip of skin that makes Kurt who he is. Passion and talent, sensitive and occasionally callous.

He lifts but a little and Kurt's eyes flutter open, his lips so soft, parted just so. He is angelic here, naked on his bed, sleep-mussed and pliant. Without a word, Kurt pulls him down for a proper kiss, mutual and slick, speaking what language can't say. And Blaine is swept up in it, in the softness of Kurt's skin on his, the motion of his muscles as they shift and adjust, the sounds Kurt makes – pure male lust and airy sweetness all at once.

Blaine has more plans for this morning, so as lovely as this is, he pulls away and works his way down Kurt's neck, stopping to wrap his lips around the bump of his Adam's apple, giggling against Kurt's skin when it bobs as he swallows down a moan. Down and down he goes, soft tongue-led kisses over each pec, each nipple, pausing when Kurt arches up to his touch, sinking his fingers into Blaine's curls as if inviting him to stay there awhile.

And it's only awhile before Blaine's kissing down over Kurt's abdomen, tracing the faint lines of his muscles there, strengthened from his manic fits on the rowing machine, soft skin and hard muscle, a trail of hair leading right to where he wants to be. Where he wants his mouth to be.

He slows and kisses, nips at Kurt's hips, tracing along each hip bone down and then back up, chuckling as Kurt's whines intensify as he goes away from the center, away from the target he keeps teasing at.

"Blaine, please."

Dotting kisses over each thigh, he looks up and waits, wanting to catch Kurt's eye, to slow and refocus because frankly, he's now a nervous wreck and will be damned if they don't take this next step together in mind and in body. Kurt finally lifts his head, his eyes wide and desperate, his breath ragged and again, those lips – puffed and parted and Blaine somehow finds his voice. "Can I put my mouth on you?"

Kurt flops his head back and sinks his fingers back into Blaine's hair thrusting up just enough to give the answer – just in case his moan-filled yespleaseohmygodyes isn't quite intelligible.

Blaine takes hold of him, still amazed at what he's doing – that he's touching another boy like this – and looks up again, pressing into Kurt's fingers on his scalp. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

Kurt groans again and works with the rhythm Blaine is lazily making on his cock and mumbles something resembling, "I have faith in you."

Blaine's thrumming with it all – the anxiety of not really knowing what the hell he's doing, the pressure he's put on himself to please Kurt, his own arousal that is sort of distracting him as his legs awkwardly hang off the foot of the bed and the fact that Kurt is here, hard and full in his hand, writhing gently beneath him making pleading noises that could, all on their own, get him off without any effort whatsoever.

With one more glance up to Kurt, who seems to be completely lost in the slide of Blaine's fist over his cock, he leans in, and swirls his tongue around the darkening head of Kurt. Kurt gasps and exhales on a whine of his name – he must be doing this right.

His heart is racing and his body is on fire, but he surges forward, taking Kurt in his mouth, sinking down just a bit getting used to the weight of his cock on his tongue, pulling back up taking more the next time, setting up a slow rhythm, not wanting to miss a second of the experience. Not miss the way Kurt lifts his hips and then stops himself. And after a few more motions on Blaine's part, especially when he sucks as he pulls up, how Kurt thrusts up again anyway as if completely unable to control himself.

It's that – the lack of control – the lack of concern about the words coming out of his mouth, the volume or indecency of the sounds he's making, the lift and roll of his hips, the way he pulls at Blaine's hair when Blaine does something he likes – controlled, put-together, measured Kurt is lost to Blaine and his mouth and the pleasure he's bringing him.

It has to be – even though everything they've done the last twelve hours has been erotic and intoxicating – the most erotic thing Blaine has ever experienced. That he can strip Kurt naked in every possible way. This intimacy. This moment. It is theirs.

So, he is intentional. Intentional in the way he drags his tongue up the length of Kurt's cock and intentional on spending time at the dimpled underside where the darkened head meets the shaft.

Intentional to take him in as far as he can because that's when Kurt gets especially vocal and hair-pully and ohmyfuckingoddontstop. Intentional to listen to him shift and breathe and hiss and groan.

Intentional to look up now and then and catch Kurt's eyes watching him, watching his mouth cover him and then flop backwards because it's all too much, too overwhelming all over again.

Intentional when everything shifts and Kurt's breathing is quickening and his words are all cutting off and he can feel Kurt's dick hardening even more – which he never thought it to be possible – and he knows that Kurt's close and Blaine's uncoordinated and his own spit is everywhere and it's sloppy and Kurt doesn't care, he's going to come anyway and oh.

Kurt's going to come and why didn't anyone tell him that sex meant a whole heap of split-second decisions? What does Kurt want him to do? What does he want to do? So far, the taste of Kurt has been—fine. Slightly bitter. Far from unpleasant. The scent, musky male and sex. He doesn't know and Kurt's whining and the muscles of his thighs are tightening beneath Blaine's arms and the truth is, Blaine's getting close as well just with the friction of the sheets and he pulls off because – yes. He wants to watch.

That's the split-second decision this time. They'll talk later, but now he wants to watch. And just as he's about to pat himself on the back for being a genius decision maker, he twists his wrist on a firm downward stroke and Kurt barks out a strangled Fuck!, thrusting into Blaine's hand, white strings of come falling on his fist, on Kurt's hips and belly, his body tight with the force of it. Stunning. Pure, exquisite lust.

Blaine strokes a few more times, staring at the pearl drops trailing down his hand and dares to taste, a gentle sucking kiss on the head Kurt's cock. Kurt groans, pulling Blaine up his body, dragging him through the mess, gathering him into a sloppy kiss, lifting his thigh just so Blaine can straddle and buck against it until he comes, uneven stops and starts as Kurt sucks his tongue into his mouth, tasting and searching for something just beyond his reach.

They lay there, spent and slick, Kurt lazily spinning Blaine's curls around and through his fingers. He chuckles and Blaine looks up because laughing at a man after he just gives his first blow job is probably not the best bedside manner. "What?"

"I don't want to even imagine—" Kurt stops to swallow and clear his throat, his voice raspy and wasted. "Imagine what that's going to be like when you do know what you're doing."

"Mmm." Blaine slips off of Kurt's body and snuggles in beside, lazily dragging a finger through the smears of come on Kurt's belly. "Maybe I do know. I could have been fibbing."

"I'm glad you're not." Kurt kisses the top of Blaine's head and he has to smile – moments ago they were as intimate as he's ever been with another human being, but the simple act of lips pressing into his pile of messy hair feels just as special. "I'm so glad to be figuring this all out with you."

"We do seem to have a decent record of effective practice time."

~~~**~~~

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Always."

Lunch has taken longer than usual to prepare and eat because, it so happens, stopping every few minutes to kiss and snuggle and press against countertops slows down the basic process of making and enjoying sandwiches with chips. And Blaine is obsessively looking at the clock because they have already lied to Kurt's dad to get this wonderful night together. The last thing they need is a blown curfew – even if that curfew is 1pm on a Sunday afternoon.

But, since their stolen nap that morning, the one after the amazing wake-up and the thirty minute shower because someone insisted on repaying the favor even though Blaine was sure he'd ever get hard that quickly again but oh my god he actually did and what an amazing repayment it was, he's wanted to know.

"Snix. Last night at the party. Well, and every other time before then too but last night it all seemed to hit me differently. She's so—I know she's your best friend and she's my friend now too, so I'm not trying to be judgmental or—"

"Blaine." Kurt leans in and kisses him softly, brushing crumbs off the corner of his mouth. "I know what she's like – you're not going to offend me."

Blaine nods and presses forward. "She's so crass about it all. About sex. And I know – you said she had a rough go of it at first, so on some level I get it, but—" He sighs and stops and when Kurt feeds him his final potato chip, he stands to clean their plates – to buy himself a few extra minutes to put it all together. "Your dad's right, you know?"

"He usually is."

"I mean, last night was—well, it was clumsy and bumbling and so fucking hot and amazing and I swear, Kurt. I feel more—" He puts the dishes in the sink, giving up on the idea of rinsing and loading into the dishwasher while his words swirl in twisted in knots throughout his body.

He turns and his breath is taken away at the boy sitting at the island in his kitchen. His hair is styled in place now and he's back in his casual-yet-ever-so-fashionable clothes – today it's mustard-yellow jeans, a simple henley and vest – Blaine loves Kurt's vests and how they show off his arms and shoulders and trim waist. He knows from their post-shower routine that he smells of Blaine's cologne and shower gel and that alone is enough to make Blaine want to fall at his feet and start everything all over again.

But, he doesn't. There are knotted words waiting on him to untangle. "I feel more for you now – thousands of times more than I did—than I did 24 hours ago when we were standing in that stupid boys' bathroom. Than I did when I caught your eye before we ended our duet – or kissing you in the middle of Ohio Stadium, and Kurt – I thought my heart was going to explode every time. Like I could never feel more than I did in then and here I am with you and I can't even—"

"I didn't know you were such a romantic." The soft smile on Kurt's face untangles the remainder of Blaine's words so much that they slip from his mind completely.

"I—I hope that's a good thing because this is as honest as I've ever been."

"It's a great thing." Kurt grabs their glasses and meets Blaine at the sink, pressing a soft kiss at his temple. "It's all I've ever wanted."

"I want to be everything you've ever wanted." Kurt pulls him in for a kiss, Blaine pliant in his arms as Kurt licks into his mouth pulling out more sighs of want – just when he thought he'd used up more than his daily allotment. He rests there, in Kurt's arms, settling his head on Kurt's shoulder as they sway to silent music, soaking up their last few moments together. "And Santana?"

"I think she has all she wants now. And that's good enough for her."

"I want everyone to feel this."

"She will. In her own time. And if she knew you were worrying about it while standing here with me, she'd kick your ass."

"Then let's not fill her in. I sort of want to save my ass for other things." Which breaks the spell and Kurt cackles, pulling out of their perfect hug to smack playfully at Blaine's arm.

"You are such a jerk."

"But you love me."

"I—I think maybe I do."