Kurt snapped the laptop shut and stretched his arms up, then out, then behind his back. 

"Home sweet..."

He looked at the tent card promoting this month's pay-per-view features.

"...AmeriSuites."

Quinn had been right, of course. So had Blaine.

Within 72 hours of the conclusion of the Taste Challenge, Kurt had politely but unmistakably been advised that Bardessono's room situation had "grown tight" for the foreseeable future, and that the luxury resort could no longer cut him a deal on his suite. In fact, it appeared that the entire hotel was booked solid for quite some time to come.

Bob Devries let him know that the limousine company could no longer afford to keep one of its Town Cars out of rotation so that it would be available on an on-call basis for him. He did say that Kurt could obtain reasonable rates at any one of several car services serving the Napa Valley.

In the six weeks since the Challenge, Kurt had booked a room in the generic extended stay hotel, packed his things and rented a car small enough to make a cluster of clowns snicker.

Ultimately, it didn't matter, Kurt told himself. He was gone half the time, on the road to one winery or another up and down the state.

When he was in town, the hotel served as his de facto office, nothing more than a space to sort his notes, makes calls from and make use of free Wi-Fi. At the end of each work day, he packed his things and drove to the remote location where he had become most comfortable. He didn't share his feelings with Blaine — not yet — but Rhapsody had already begun to feel like home.

He knew that six weeks was too soon to truly consider himself home at the winery, of course, even though he felt as at home there as he had anywhere, at any time.

And six weeks was certainly too soon to be in love, his head knew that. 

He just had to convince his heart of it.

The fact of the matter was that his heart had been a goner from early on, probably from that first dinner of burgers and Bordeaux, and forcing himself to bottle those feelings up those first couple of months had only caused them to explode with a pent-up force when they were finally uncorked. The feelings were so sudden, and so strong, that he feared acknowledging them would only serve to frighten off Blaine.

So he kept his thoughts locked tight, at least for a little while longer, until he could be certain that the right time had passed, the right place located, before the right words could be spoken.

He had just returned from a trip to San Diego and Riverside counties, arid and sunny wine regions in the southern-most stretches of the state, where winemakers took advantage of hot days and cool nights to produce high-octane Zinfandels and bold Chardonnays.

With few exceptions, the atmosphere at the southern wineries was entirely different than that of Napa or even Sonoma. There were established winemakers that had upgraded their landscaping and decor to try to replicate the feel of the big Napa labels. But most of the facilities had the laid-back manner of many of the Sonoma wineries Kurt had visited. There were fewer of them, of course, and spread out over a broader expanse of land, but all within a reasonable driving distance of the metropolitan centers of San Diego and Los Angeles.

And while he didn't believe that the Southern California wines had quite the refinement of their northern peers, the region was slowly developing a roster of up-and-coming, inventive vintners. The wines may never have the caché of Napa, but their day would come, Kurt thought. He wished that Blaine could have joined him to see yet another approach to winemaking and enjoy the sunny Southern California coast.

Too busy came the reply, each and every time Kurt suggested that they turn a business trip into a weekend away. Isn't that why you hire people? So you can take time off? Kurt thought. Okay, if we can't have a weekend away, we'll make one at home, he quietly promised himself.

His column finished, he rushed to unpack, then repack his weekender bag with items suitable for an uninterrupted night or two at Rhapsody.

****

When Kurt finally reached the winery, Blaine was already waiting for him on the verandah, KD at his feet and a glass of iced tea at his side. He didn't appear to be doing anything other than watching the sun creep lower on the horizon.

"Can you direct me to the manager?" Kurt asked as he climbed out of his tiny rental car. "I think I found an employee slacking off on the job. And I have it on good authority that it's very busy right now."

Blaine grinned, not moving from his comfortable perch.

"He quit. I'm in charge here now."

"And what are you in charge of, exactly?"

"Supervision."

"And what exactly are you supervising?" Kurt asked, taking a seat next to him.

"Well, right now I'm watching the sunset. And I can confirm that it is on schedule."

Kurt rested his head on Blaine's shoulder. "Very good. I'm glad you're on top of that. Any other assignments in this very important job of yours?"

"Mmmm, yes. I'm in charge of housing and social events."

"I didn't realize there was a call for that here."

"Oh yes," Blaine said, taking his hand. "In fact, there's a very special dinner event scheduled for this evening."

"A big dinner party?"

Blaine pulled Kurt's hand to his lips. "Just the opposite."

"And what's the occasion for this special dinner, may I ask?"

"Does there need to be a reason?"

Kurt caught Blaine's eye, and held it until he couldn't wait any longer, leaning in for a soft, lingering kiss. They separated slightly, their faces just inches apart.

"No, not really. Maybe someone was missed."

"I see," Kurt said. "So there is an upside to being out of town. Now tell me, what's on the menu?"

"I was thinking about grilling some salmon and vegetables. And there's dessert."

"Dessert? You know the way to my heart, Mr. Anderson."

Blaine looked away for a moment, a look that Kurt had come to recognize as a drop of shyness, self-consciousness, that Blaine carried with him, no matter how undeservedly. But what truly threw Kurt for a loop, each and every time, was how Blaine would recover by pulling his eyes back up, locking his focus in such a way to make Kurt's stomach do loop-de-loops.

He took a breath, centered himself, and got back on track. 

"Need some help in the kitchen?"

Blaine stood up, released his hand and leaned in to place a delicate kiss to Kurt's forehead. 

"Stay here and relax. I won't be long."

They ate by candlelight on the veranda as night crept over the valley, sipping a coastal Pinot Noir and talking about their week.

At least, Kurt talked. He talked about the Southern California wineries he had visited, about the traffic he had suffered through and the Pacific Ocean acting like a reflective panel for the bright summer sun.

Blaine took in every word silently, nodding over his glass, holding eye contact with Kurt for every detail of his story. He'd cock his head to one side from time-to-time, absorbing the words, or rest his chin on his interlocked fingers, focused.

"...Well, at least the room comes with breakfast, if you want to call it that," Kurt paused, squinting at Blaine. "Is everything okay? You're awfully quiet."

"Just thinking," he said.

"About...?"

"This," Blaine said. "That hotel of yours that you're almost never in — by design, I think. You're here more than you are there, and it just seems like such a waste."

"What are you saying, Blaine?"

Blaine bit his lip, one last motion to give himself a moment to block the words about to bubble out of his mouth.

"I don't want to overstep. This is all still pretty new, and I want to be clear: I'm not asking you to move in with me, not exactly. It's just that I have this apartment, or guest house or whatever you want to call it just sitting here, empty, and it seems kind of ridiculous, considering it's a hundred times better than AmeriSuites."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying? Because I don't want to overstep here, either."

"What I'm saying is you don't have to live in a crappy hotel. I have space here that's yours if you want it. You can have privacy, and access to a damn fine wine cellar. And like AmeriSuites, it has free Wi-Fi. And I'm betting that my breakfasts are a lot better."

Kurt's face lit up brighter than a halogen bulb.

"They are! Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm certain that my breakfasts are better than the buffets at AmeriSuites," Blaine said, laughing, then dropping his voice. "And yes, I want you to stay here."

"In the apartment?"

"In the apartment. But just to be clear — you're welcome everywhere."

"Everywhere? Can I test that?"

"I hope you do, starting tonight," Blaine said, standing up. 

Kurt cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "Where are you going?"

"I thought I'd get dessert, maybe a bottle of something to celebrate with. How about we take it upstairs?"

"On the balcony?"

"As you wish." 

Blaine's voice sounded gravelly, in a lower register than usual. He looked at Kurt with a half smile that suggested he had already thought this through. "Go. Do your evening routine. I won't be far behind."

He waited until Kurt had disappeared from sight, then set himself in motion. He could hear the shower start up, and he knew had enough time to get this right.

Setting a tray on the counter, he opened a 2009 Fortissimo Port, one he had set aside, and grabbed a small snifter from the cabinet. He opened the kitchen wine cooler and pulled out the box he had hidden earlier, from the chocolatier on the square.

He opened it gingerly to reveal several small desserts: a milk chocolate hazelnut mousse, a dark chocolate ganache. He set them on a plate, then took two small bowls and filled one with crème fraîche and the other with berries he had prepped earlier: fresh raspberries, blueberries and blackberries from the farmer's market. From the freezer, he pulled a small carton of the very darkest chocolate ice cream he had ever seen.

He set them all on the tray, along with a single rose, kicked off his shoes and carefully climbed  the stairs to the master bedroom. 

Kurt was standing in front of the vanity in a robe and pajama pants, patting moisturizer into his skin, when Blaine nudged the door open.

"Oh, chocolate! Should we set up on the balcony?" Kurt asked.

Setting his eyes on Kurt, Blaine set the tray on the nightstand, and shook his head slowly.

He took the rose from the tray. 

"Come here."

Kurt did as he was told, stopping inches from Blaine, touching his fingertips to Blaine's chest. "I don't see any plates on there," he whispered.

"We won't be needing them." 

Blaine ran the rose along Kurt's jaw and down his neck. "We also won't be needing this," he added, sliding a finger into the half-knotted belt on Kurt's robe, pulling it open. He pushed the robe from Kurt's shoulders and eased him back toward the bed with a soft, lingering kiss.

Blaine pulled back the duvet, then guided Kurt down to the mattress. He handed Kurt the rose, then unbuttoned his own shirt. 

"Port?"

"Any port in a storm," Kurt chirped, immediately regretting it.

Blaine shut his eyes and covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh. He gave Kurt a fleeting Really? look, then poured the rich red wine into the snifter.

"Aren't you going to have any?" Kurt asked.

Blaine set the drink on the nightstand.

"I am," he said, shifting his hands to his waist and unbuttoning his jeans. He removed his shirt and clambered onto the bed, kneeling next to Kurt, and reaching again for the port. 

"This is my glass."

Kurt gave an exaggerated frown. "What about me?"

Blaine smiled and took the berries and the bowl of crème fraîche from the tray. 

"I'm your glass."

Blaine took a blackberry, dipped it in the bowl, and fed it to Kurt. 

"Good?" 

Kurt nodded, a tiny smile creasing his lips.

Blaine took a small slice of the deep chocolate ganache and split it into smaller sections, just enough to melt and savor on the tongue. He held one out, just about an inch from Kurt's lips, and grinned. Kurt's eyes lit up. 

"You're going to make me work for this, aren't you?" he said, craning his head to reach Blaine's extended fingers, taking them and the rich chocolate into his mouth. He closed his eyes and savored the treat.

"What fun would it be if I didn't?" Blaine said. He reached for the fruit, dipping a raspberry into the port before running it across Kurt's lower lip, drawing a perfect lipstick line of Fortissimo across Kurt's open mouth. As Kurt began to lick his lip clean, Blaine reached in with the berry, touching it to Kurt's tongue. 

Kurt lapped at the berry, trying to draw it into his mouth, but Blaine teased, pulling it away just as Kurt tried to bite down. He drew it close again, with the same results. On the third pass, Kurt finally reached up and grabbed Blaine's wrist, holding his hand still as he took berry and fingers into his mouth, sucking and chewing until the port-soaked fruit was free of Blaine's grip.

"Greedy," Blaine said, leaning in for a kiss.

"Tease," Kurt countered. 

"Good?"

Kurt closed his eyes.

"Mmm, delicious. More wine tastings should be staged like this."

"Kurt?"

Blaine coated his finger in port, and let it slowly drift across Kurt's lips, following closely by Kurt's tongue.

"Shhh."

Blaine stayed still, and quiet, focused on Kurt's face: looking, lingering, holding his gaze. He didn't break the silent stare until Kurt cocked his head to one side, raising his eyebrows as if to ask What's wrong?

It snapped Blaine out of his reverie, if only long enough to reach again for the glass, dipping his index finger and running it along his own lips, leaning into Kurt, who welcomed the kiss eagerly. He licked at Blaine's lip until Blaine locked their mouths in a molten kiss that left any plan to take it slow in ashes.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Kurt's hand drifted to Blaine's stomach, fumbling under his waist band.

"Patience," Blaine said. 

He took a spoon and dipped it into the dark chocolate ice cream. With his fingertip, he smeared it across Kurt's lower lip. Before Kurt could lick it off, he dove in, tonguing at Kurt's lip and tasting the ice cream for himself.

"Hey!"

"I like chocolate," Blaine said, shrugging and lifting his finger to his mouth. Kurt grabbed his hand before he could lick off the remaining ice cream, and pulled Blaine's hand to his own mouth. "Mine," Kurt said, sucking Blaine's finger into his mouth. 

"The ice cream, or me?"

Kurt reached up, raking his hand through Blaine's hair.

"Both."

He pulled Blaine in, licking a stray drop of chocolate from his upper lip, then kissing across his cheek to his jawline and neck.

"Turn over," he whispered. "On your back. And these pants have got to go."

Blaine shimmied out of his jeans, kicking them off and sending them flying across the room to the foot of the closet. 

"Nice aim," Kurt said, picking up the mousse from the tray. "What do we have here?"

"Chocolate-hazelnut mousse. Think fluffy Nutella," Blaine said.

Kurt took a finger-full and fed it to Blaine. "One for you..." he said, as Blaine licked the sweet fluff from his hand.

He took a second dollop and painted the mousse across Blaine's skin, starting just below his jaw and drawing down to his upper chest. 

"...And one for me."

His tongue traced the sweet line, lapping at Blaine's neck, sucking at his chest, savoring the confection and the skin it coated.

"Oh god, I love Nutella," he mumbled.

"More," Blaine moaned. 

"More for you? Or more for me?" Kurt said with wicked grin.

"Both."

He scooped more of mousse onto his finger, drawing a delicate line down the ridge of Blaine's nose, then kissing it clean.

"Hang on." 

Kurt kicked off his pajama pants and took the snifter Blaine had set on the nightstand. He took a raspberry from the bowl and dipped it in the port, running the berry along Blaine's parted lips, letting him catch the juice from the fruit before eating it. Then Kurt dripped port along Blaine's sternum, following along with his mouth. 

He dipped a berry in the glass, then held it between his lips as he went in for another kiss, sharing the sweet fruit.

"Kurt."

He dotted crème fraîche on Blaine's nipples, and removed it with kisses. Blaine shut his eyes tight, focused on his sense of touch, of smell, of taste.

"Kuurrt..."

Kurt drew a heart of dark chocolate on Blaine's stomach, earning appreciative moans. He lined it with crème fraîche before licking it clean. 

Blaine was well on his way to incoherence.

"Let me."

"Hmm?"

"Let me, Kurt."

"What do you want?"

"Let me, please."

"Blaine?"

With that, Blaine opened his eyes, revealing whiskey irises nearly obliterated by his blown-dark pupils. He grabbed Kurt around the waist and flipped him over so that Kurt was lying face-up. He reached for the ice cream and skipped the spoon, taking several fingers-full and smearing them haphazardly across Kurt's chest, down his stomach and into the dusting of hair below his navel.

Kurt giggled and squealed like a child being tickled, and raised his hips seeking relief.

Blaine took the port and dribbled lines of it from stomach to thigh, then took a large sip and leaned up toward Kurt's face, covering Kurt's body with his own while they shared a deep kiss accented with the flavor of the tart, smokey drink.

"We're covered in chocolate," Kurt said.

"I love chocolate," Blaine mumbled, burying his head in Kurt's shoulder. "Have more ganache."

He took a sliver of the soft, dark chocolate and fed it to Kurt, then returned to licking and kissing his way down Kurt's body. He took another finger of mousse and ran it down his chest, then kissed his way further south. He lapped at the residue of port, then gently spread Kurt's legs for better access and drew the remaining mousse along his seeping cock.

"Somebody's eating all the Nutella," Kurt huffed.

"Dessert," Blaine responded, without context or coherence. He reached for another berry, chewed it lightly, then lapped at Kurt's cock, blending the mousse and rich berry flavors with precome as he took Kurt deep into his mouth.

Kurt gasped, and grabbed the sheets, and made no effort to slow the grinding motion of his hips toward Blaine's face.

"Shit."

Blaine smiled and hummed his approval.

"Blaine. I'm not gonna last with you doing that."

Blaine gripped the base of Kurt's cock, stroking it as he ran his tongue along a prominent vein.

"Blaine, please."

Blaine pulled off to clamber up Kurt's body, whispering into his ear. "What do you want, baby? Tell me how to make it good."

"Oh, god. Blaine."

Blaine kissed him, deep and dirty, and reached for both their cocks, aligning them in his hand.

"Like this?" he asked, pumping them together.

A groan was all that Kurt could manage.

"Here," he said, taking his free hand and reaching for Kurt's wrist. "Help me."

He reached to link their fingers, and picked up the pace as they stroked and twisted as one. Only after they had reached a synchronous rhythm did he give in to it, burying his face into the warmth of Kurt's neck, squeezing his eyes shut from tears he could feel building.

"Blaine... I'm... Blaine... I," Kurt pushed his head back into the pillows, unable to hold back any longer. Moments later, Blaine joined him in his delirium.

Amidst the moans and sighs of the moment, he almost missed the words Kurt murmured into his neck.

"I love you."

He opened his eyes and saw nothing but the darkness between the pillow and the silky crook of Kurt's shoulder. He stared for long moments, hoping he could bring his thoughts into focus.

With a final, soft kiss, he silently rolled away, getting up from the bed to run the shower.

****