“Oh crap!”

Blaine struggled to turn his head. “Don't say that! That is literally the last thing I want to hear you say at this moment.”

“More than ‘it's turning blue?'”

“What?!” Blaine wriggled on his belly, but with one ankle tied to his wrists and the other pulled frog-style and bound shin to thigh, he really wasn't going anywhere. “What's turning blue?!”

“Relax Blaine! Nothing's turning blue. I was making a joke.”

“This is so not the time to make that joke.”

Kurt's hand pressed into the small of Blaine's back – one of the only spots on his body not bound in soft white rope. “Relax. This is not a big deal. Read me that last part again.”

Blaine wriggled back around so he could see the paper propped on his pillow. “'Tuck the working end under the wrap and through the second loop,'” he read.

Behind him, Kurt was silent.

“Kurt?”

“I don't have a loop.”

“The second loop, it says.”

“I don't even have a first loop. Crap. What did I do wrong?”

“Can you just work backward and untie me?”

Kurt was quiet long enough to set off alarm bells in Blaine's brain. “I would,” he finally said, “but there's a knot where I don't think there's supposed to be a knot.”

Blaine wriggled again. “Maybe you should use the safety scissors.”

“I think I might have gone left around your thigh when I was supposed to go right around your waist . . .” Kurt's fingers traced the rope as he spoke, searching out his mistake, Blaine knew, but his mounting sense of helplessness magnified his skin's sensitivity to the intermittent touch and he squirmed against the rope.

“Kurt.”

“Hmmm?”

“Scissors?”

“Don't be a baby,” Kurt said firmly. “Nothing's cold or the wrong color. We shouldn't ruin the rope unless we have to. I can figure this out.”

Blaine should have probably been panicking. The rope was soft but inescapable; it held him fast, hands twisted in the small of his back, legs spread wide and chest wrapped tight. Yes, it had been his idea. Yes, he loved the feeling of being trapped in bondage, but he loved it when it was planned and orderly, not the tangle of wraps and loops he was hopelessly stuck in at the moment. He should definitely be panicking. Except it was hard to panic with Kurt's warm, sure hands on his body.

“Maybe if I . . .” Kurt muttered more to himself than to Blaine. He slipped something into a new position, setting off a chain reaction that ended with a completely different section of rope settling between Blaine's ass cheeks, pulled wide by the position of his legs. That alone made Blaine squirm again and the rope slipped soft yet rough over his sensitive hole. And oh.

It was the tiniest of movements, barely an inch of slide, but it was exquisite. Each little bump in the rope's twisted texture rubbed at Blaine's most sensitive of places. He rocked his hips again, and yet again, arching his back to press harder into the fibers that teased him so intimately. Predictably, his cock started to swell until it bumped up against the length that wrapped his shin and thigh and then it was wonderful, trapped between competing sensations, allowed only the scant give of the rope to stimulate himself.

“This would be a lot easier if you'd hold still,” Kurt said. He smacked a hand sharp on Blaine's ass and wasn't that just the perfect, perfect gift.

Kurt could give him permission to come, Blaine thought, just like this, with no chance of him actually working up enough friction to send himself over the edge. He could leave him to his ineffectual humping, laugh at his pathetic efforts, jerk off and spill his hot seed all over Blaine's straining body. He could tie him up like this every day; tell him that from now on this was the only way he was allowed to come. An impossible task, but Blaine would try anyway, again and again, overwhelmed by frustration, sure that this time he'd find a way to push his aching cock over the edge . . .

“I got it!” Kurt crowed.

And suddenly Blaine was free. Not completely free, but his legs fell away from his hands, his body rolled against the mattress and his cock and ass both lost their rough stimulation. “Nooo,” he moaned into the bed before he could stop himself.

“What did you say?” Kurt rolled him onto his back, because his hands were still tied. The beautiful rope bunched under his body, limp and useless.

“Um . . . no?” Blaine said.

Kurt's eyes raked his form, taking in his flushed skin and his upright cock. “I thought you wanted me to get you out?”

“I did.” Blaine did his best to look pathetic. Submissive and pathetic. “But then wanting to get out and not being able to get out . . . and the rope . . . well I just . . .”

Kurt's eyes narrowed, but he snatched the paper from the pillow next to Blaine's head. “This time,” he said, “I read the directions.”

Which, this time, was just fine with Blaine, no matter how tangled things got.