The stars winked in the dark sky, peeping through the curtains of the window, co-conspirators to the debauchery past within the living room where Blaine and Kurt lay, sweaty and sated, legs entwined and bodies pressed close as they spoon.

Blaine sighed happily as Kurt pressed more firmly against him, arm wrapped protectively around Blaine's torso. The feel of warm, moist skin on skin was delightful, and Blaine inhaled the perfume of their coupling, memories stirring and making him shiver pleasantly.

After he'd picked Kurt up from the airport, knee jiggling and body vibrating from arousal and excitement, Blaine had nervously led Kurt inside his house to set the stage.

Blaine has an affinity for performing. The feelings aroused while displaying and painting a scene feed Blaine.

It's not acting. It's monumentally different from a part he plays because it's a role he lives. When he sings, he breathes and sighs the emotion, he ties it to his heart and plays it on its strings.

No, performing is different than acting for Blaine. It's living.

When he slowly grasped the bottom edges of the shirt of his Cheerios uniform, standing dead center in the middle of the living room, he inhaled, sucking in everything, the setting, the atmosphere, and the moment. Kurt's stuttered breath, surprised as he paused in removing his coat from where he still stood in the hall to stare at Blaine, his widened eyes, the pulse of his heart, and the dilation of his eyes had sunk into Blaine, dissolved into his skin, and Blaine blinked, pulling his shirt up and over his head in one swift motion, curls flopping wetly onto his forehead. He tossed it carelessly onto the couch, still reeling in the increase of his heartbeat and the small steps Kurt took towards him, eyes shining.

When his fingers trailed along the edges of his Cheerios pants, flicks that tease the fabric settled low on his waist, so low the bottom of his shirt struggled to cover the muscled V of his hips, Blaine closed his eyes, struck with the darkening of Kurt's eyes and the aborted movement of Kurt's left hand to his groin. Blaine felt the tendrils of the abrupt end of the movement, the nerves pulsing through his body, stopping at his hips because it's not there yet; Kurt's hand rested lightly on his waist, and Blaine was thinly skirting the lines.

Blaine's chest heaved, and he slid his track pants down, down to his knees and then around his ankles, until he stepped out of them gently, his balls lightly rolling against the silk fabric of thong with the small movements.

The soft velvet of the thong played against the fine hairs of his body softly as he shifted towards Kurt, angling his hips and waist closer and more evenly, the view of his body more cleanly set where Kurt's eyes are now seeing the panoramic view, each detail able to be accounted for. Kurt sat now, legs spread, on the couch, hand perilously close to his groin as his eyes urged Blaine on.

When Blaine thrust his hips forward, a magnetic force dragging towards Kurt, he embodied the lust swirling in the room, heat and sweat and arousal combining lethally. Swiveling his pelvis, hands flattening across his chest, absently twisting a nipple, curling an exploratory finger into his belly button, Blaine groaned. Kurt's hand was now palming over the outline of his cock, smooth as it slided over and pressed down firmly, the heel pushing harder. Kurt's hips snapped up against his palm, undulating and crashing like waves.

The thong was a prop in Blaine's performance, significant but ultimately background until required; but as Blaine prowled towards Kurt, it became useful, Kurt's hands greedy to touch, snap, rub, and caress until Blaine's sensual writhing was base and stuttered, uncontrolled and rough.

When Kurt pulled Blaine onto his lap, Kurt's legs slotted between Blaine's spread thighs, the fabric of the thong pulled taut, Blaine grounded down, gasping, head snapping back and pelvis rocking forward mindlessly.

It was tangible now, and Blaine could feel the want and need in the heat of Kurt's flushed skin, the tight grip of Kurt's fingers on his waist, and the wet suction of Kurt's lips.

Fingers slipped underneath lacy edges, sliding and cupping, one set of fingers pulling and twisting pleasurably, the other prodding and creeping, slowly shifting between Blaine's cheeks. Blaine moaned, breath puffing against Kurt's neck, rocking forward involuntarily as he longed to press backwards into an oblivion.

When passion skyrocketed, Blaine wrapped his legs around Kurt, snugly wrapped around and pressed closer than probably comfortable; which was alright because Kurt's thrusting had ceased, and his arms tightened around Blaine. Mouth and tongue soothed heated skin and nipped at bruised lips, hands pressing and curling into sweaty and curled hair, nose tentatively hovering over flicking eyelashes and wild curls.

When Kurt whispered "I love you", lips ghosting along Blaine's chin, eyes firmly upon Blaine's own, Blaine pressed forth his strength and confidence, his belief and adoration, his love and courage, and he brought a little of the same that he found in Kurt's eyes, replying softly, "I love you, too;" and he felt a little more complete than he'd had in a while.