Blaine was surprised and overwhelmed when Kurt finally told him, casually over breakfast one showery April weekend morning, that he wanted them to get married in August in England--on the site of their holiday home, no less, set in the idyllic Yorkshire countryside.

The idea immediately filled Blaine with so much warmth that he thought he might just burst with it. What a perfect, fantastic idea--and god, why did he not guess? Why did he not think of it? He could already feel the stress of past weeks being replaced with pure joy, and he found himself laughing at the whole, wild notion of doing something so radically different from what they originally had planned and from what everyone had expected.

The peace and serenity of the country moors, endless rolling hills of greens and goldens--how wonderful it would be--to have his lungs filled with fresh, earthy air, not polluted with chemicals and fumes of the everyday working city. 

Yes, the U.K. is notorious for its U-turn weather spells, and Kurt had been right to suggest that their female guests may want to match their maxi dresses with a nice pair of dressy mud boots as well as dress shoes, just to be prepared. But this year's August had been predicted to expect (hopefully) a warm dry spell with temperatures of up to about 90F/32C. (That's pretty toasty compared to previous summers.) Just as he has advised his guests to be prepared for almost any type of weather, Kurt has taken steps to ensure the ceremony and reception also will be prepared by arranging for a large pavilion and transformed barn/reception hall as locations where they will speak their vows and celebrate afterwards.

And, as much as the gossip sites and magazines deserve credit for their relentless and diligent work in trying to dig up information for a sensational scoop, after all this time they still have failed to find out the specific destination of their English hide-away or even the date of the ceremony.

The delicious notion that there would be no one snooping around, no unwanted camera flashes or videos being made, plus the idea of how perfect and different their special day would be has Blaine literally bouncing on his toes with excitement. 

Truly, if someone had told Blaine three years ago that he would be marrying a successful designer--who was well-known for his diva mood swings and his love of luxury, no less--in the middle of an English countryside, Blaine seriously would have doubted their sanity.

It's all so unlike Kurt--the Kurt he met and fell in love with--yet at the same time, it so totally is. It is like the Kurt that Blaine gets to talk to, and hold on to, to look at, and taste and touch everyday.

His Kurt. Not the media's Kurt.

So it's quite understandable that Blaine can't hold back his smile amidst a small eruption of giggles when Kurt, with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth, eyes squinting with concentration, quickly sketches his ideas and presents them proudly. Blaine is constantly amazed at Kurt's artistic talents, but to see their dream come to life from his fiancé's very own imagination is a rare treat.

There, in front of his very eyes, on one of the many specially-ordered sketch pads Kurt keeps on hand for when inspiration strikes, is what appears to be a white, oversized tent in the middle of a vast pencil-shaded grassy area surrounded by strange-looking, cotton puffs with stick legs. Blaine soon realizes the tent is actually a grand marquee, which can be open to the fresh air if the weather is fine or more enclosed for inclement weather, and the “cotton puffs on sticks” are sheep that graze nearby, keeping the grass as neatly trimmed as any lawn mower.

Blaine can't resist; he wraps his arms around Kurt's shoulders and plants a kiss on the corner of his fiancé's lips, which is all that seems possible for now because, when they both try to deepen the kiss, they erupt into laughter.

The research process then develops into almost a dance as they take turns pulling up information from various searches and switch back and forth to look at each other's computer monitors.

And, almost before they know it, they're packed and sitting hand-in-hand on an eight hour flight, eager for the real preparations to begin.

Sandra and John from the nearby farm meet them for lunch soon after they arrive and, while discussing what seems to be an almost overwhelming amount of detail, it soon becomes apparent that they are a veritable cornucopia of information about local options. First they tell them of a neighbor's barn that had been transformed and remodelled for special events. They also have a relative who owns an events-planning company, who can help with the hiring and planning of almost anything they need.

Upon further discussion, Kurt and Blaine feel reassured that confidentiality and discretion will be a top priority of all involved parties; Kurt has known the couple for a long time and has every bit of trust in them and in their judgment. 

The following months in New York are challenging, to say the least, but Sandra and John also have introduced them to Moira, a very helpful wedding coordinator (although she has a thick Yorkshire accent that sometimes means they need to have things repeated via email or text so they can make sure they understand her correctly). With all the local support, they feel comfortable and kept in the loop, so to speak.

Of course, Santana grumbles about the idea of an English-countrified wedding at first, whining about all the grand places in the city or on the outskirts they could choose for their wedding instead, or somewhere even farther afield that requires the application of a high-factored sun block. She moans and groans about all of the beautiful wedding boutiques and vintage stores in New York that Kurt won't let her go anywhere near until the day when Kurt's patience runs thin, and she's banished from the office. However, after letting her into his storeroom to explore the fabrics he's considering for her dress, she soon decides she's going to be the best-dressed woman there, no matter where “there” is.

After that Santana is suddenly very taken with the idea of everyone flying over the ocean to gather in a farmer's field and then drink and dance to the sounds of cattle lowing and sheep bleating in the distance. She finds herself falling in love with the many images she's pulled up in her head of what she envisions it's going to be like. She takes it upon herself to take care of the invitations, making it one of her primary duties and taking heed of Kurt's warnings and Blaine's preferences.

As a result, the invitations are worded exactly as they wished in a simple yet elegant font, and on fine stationery that complements the color theme of the wedding. In the end, after the invitations are finalized and sent out, Santana helps out in so many other ways that Kurt and Blaine find themselves unable to thank her enough for all of her energy and enthusiasm towards their special day.

Love really can change people, after all.

Much to Sam's disappointment, his grand plans for the bachelor parties have been nipped in the bud. He can't deny that he's not surprised. Instead he, Santana, Cooper and some of their co-workers from the A-H organization have arranged an exclusive, private dinner in one of Kurt's favorite restaurants, with a trip to Blaine's most loved piano bar afterwards to sing and dance and drink the night away.

After celebrating long past midnight, the four of them eventually pass out in the condo's living area, sprawling all over the sofas and each other after sharing teary, somewhat slurred declarations of fondness and gratitude for each other.

Hours later with raging headaches, still warily nibbling their way through a concoction of breakfast foods, Kurt and Blaine agree that the evening had been the best send-off anyone could have asked for. 

*

The end of July in the city is almost unbearably hot and humid, and this nearly always makes it harder to focus on work. Although the days are longer, brighter and lighter, people tend to expect more, but work less, their moods often are irritated, hot and bothered and deflating by the second.

Kurt and Blaine have always both strived and thrived during summers gone by, their professional reputations and experience expanding with ease; but this summer? It's just not the case. They have no one to impress, nothing to prove to anyone but themselves. With two successful businesses to their names and a happy, loving relationship, all that they have left to focus on is what's important. And what's important right now? One very special day coming up in their rapidly nearing future.

Everything and everyone else can simply wait.

This day is something that neither man had expected or even dared to hope for. Neither man had thought this very day would be a possibility in their futures; yet now it's almost the only thing they can think about. It seems as if everything in their lives has been adding up to this one unexpected, yet so significant day.

They spend the last few days of the month working towards that day, tying up loose ends and readying themselves mentally and physically for the event itself and a much anticipated vacation (honeymoon!) afterward.

*

It's a warm, dry afternoon when Sam pulls up to the curb outside of one of several performing arts centers in Queens; it's the last stop of the day before heading back to the condo. Blaine looks out of the window from his seat in the back of the car, out to the bustling, sunlit streets, and up to the building where he used to devote so much of his time and effort; it still feels like just yesterday.

Queens--where Blaine lived for several years, trying to break into the music business, but remaining one of the many unknown performers on street corners and in coffee shops and bars. It's where he started out; it's where he tried, and it's where he initially failed. It's also where he succeeded. His small but comfy Queens home, with a stray dancing kitten for a roommate, was where he spent his days, often feeling lost and lonely, unsure.

Blaine is nudged out of his reverie by Cooper, who's sitting beside him with a somewhat confused look on his face. “Are we getting out…or…?”

Cooper's work schedule for today is simply designated, “Bro Day.” His duties basically consist of following Blaine around, assisting with notes and paperwork, and playing on the Draw Something app with Sam.

Blaine has hesitated long enough that Sam has exited his driver's position and opened the door for him and Cooper to step onto the curb. Blaine looks at him with a raised eyebrow, and Sam quirks the corner of his mouth up as he responds to the unspoken comment. “I know, I know--you can open your own door, but I needed to stretch my legs anyway. You guys won't be long in there right? I'll just wait here for you rather than circling the block or finding a parking lot.”

Blaine nods and smiles his thanks, rolling his eyes as Cooper jokes, “Thank you, my good man,” as they step onto the sidewalk. Sam closes the car door behind them gently, making sure their briefcases and laptop bags are safely stowed out of sight of casual passers-by.

Blaine straightens himself as Cooper sidles up beside him and takes a deep breath of city air--Queens air. The place where it all started for him. The air he would breathe day in and day out as he trudged up and down the streets, with his guitar case strapped to his back.

And now Blaine has returned, three years later, back to the very streets where he sat with an old cap and his trusty guitar, performing--essentially begging for people to listen to him, to like him, to want him.

Only now it's as if he's on the other side of an invisible pane of glass. Once he would have been hanging around the center, looking for jobs, for any sign of people showing interest in his work and his talent. But now--now he's looking up at the building with a light in his eyes and a determination in his heart that he once thought was long gone.

“You know, I don't know if I actually have properly thanked you and Kurt for the opportunities you've given me,” Cooper says quietly from Blaine's side, while pensively looking around.

“Huh?” Blaine asks, surprised at the quiet interruption of his daydreaming and reminiscing. He turns to face Cooper with an unsure look on his face.

“You know, B,” Cooper shrugs, his shoulders tightening in his smart, tailored cream-colored suit. “Just…you…you came from here, you lived here, you worked so hard and you…well, it wasn't easy for you to get where you wanted, but you never gave up. You may have U-turned and come at it from a completely different direction, but you're still here, you know--where you want to be. You did it. And because of that, because of how awesome you truly are, you've brought me right here with you, presenting me with all these cool jobs and gigs…and, you know, just…thank you.” He shrugs again, his eyes staring down at a gum-spotted piece of sidewalk.

Blaine blames the sudden dampness in his eyes on city grit borne by a gust of summer wind; he blinks a few times. “C-Cooper…,” he breathes, completely facing his brother now, who still won't look at him, and who also is blinking rapidly.

“No, Blaine, listen to me; just accept it please. I'm so, so happy for you, and for Kurt, for you both together. He's an awesome guy, and I know that I made jokes in the beginning, but he's not just a famous rich guy, you know; he's so much more than that…”

“Of course he is,” Blaine smiles nodding; he scratches at the curls gathering at his temple, to give his fingers something to do other than swipe obviously at his leaking eyes. “You know I also have you to thank for helping Kurt and me get to where we are now, just days from our wedding. You remember my birthday on the beach in LA, our little talk…”

Before Blaine can finish, he's wrapped up in a one-armed hug, with his face mashed to Cooper's chest. And then there's silence--a comfortable, quiet, moment between two brothers, simply held in each other's arms.

There's much they could say to each other right now--many thanks and expressions of gratitude passed back and forth. Cooper was, after all, the one who introduced Blaine to Andre. Of course, partly because of this, Kurt had been pretty hell bent on giving Cooper the PA position and helping to raise his public profile as a result.

After a moment, they pull away, patting at each other's arms and backs, and straightening out their jackets with big, if slightly embarrassed smiles.

There's a check folded up, securely hidden within the silk inner pocket of Blaine's suit jacket, already signed, just waiting to be filled out with the appropriate information. Waiting to be given, to be donated, to unsuspecting people who just need a break, like he did.

He really has come full circle, in such a short space of time, and there really is only one reason for that.

Kurt.

Blaine smiles to himself, pulling his phone from his pocket and swiping through to his recent messages, as Cooper meanders over to the main entrance, making eye contact with every passerby just to see if he'll be recognised (some things never change).  Kurt's eyes, so big and bright and vibrant, stare back up at Blaine from the thumbnail on the corner of his phone's screen.

It was here, in Queens, that Blaine had inquired into a job about which he knew absolutely nothing. Taking a leap of faith (along with a bit of what do I have to lose? attitude), he went to an interview for a job that was so scarily different from the world he was used to.

It was here where he was first introduced to Kurt's world and everything that goes with it. And oddly enough, as out of his depth and lost and alone as he'd felt, he'd had his safety net all along, right from the very beginning.

Kurt was--is his safety net. And, as it turned out, he was--is Kurt's.

Kurt pushed and pulled him, dangled him like bait in front of the daring, dangerous jaws of his very own dreams. But he never once let him fall. If he wobbled out of line, they wobbled together and brought each other back to stability. Always.

His thumb flies over the screen as he steps closer to the main entrance, happily swaying to the beat of some kid sitting on a nearby wall with a steel drum and a harmonica attached to his face with a metal frame.

To Kurt:

I'm in Queens, thinking about you. I love you so much! You know that, right? XX

He only has time to dig all of his loose change and a few bills from his pants pocket, jog over to the kid's little change bucket, and back to the door of the building where Cooper is waiting with a knowing smile, when his phone buzzes in his hand.

From Kurt:

What have we talked about? No lovey-dovey stuff during work hours.

Blaine chuckles quietly to himself, nodding to the old security guard who politely holds the door open for him and Cooper as they step inside to the main lobby.

To Kurt:

I'm not on your time. I'm on my time! X!X!

From Kurt:

Well in that case…would I be marrying you if I didn't know that? I'm going to say ditto and end this right here, before we get text-inappropriate like that time at the dentist! Stop reminiscing and get back home to me please; we have a wedding to get to!

To Kurt:

Ok, boss man! See you soon; I won't be long. xoxo

Blaine shakes his head with a smile, heading over to the center's business offices with Cooper in tow, where the director of finance has been expecting him. Blaine's mouth widens into a grin as he feels his heart swell with gratitude--not just for Kurt, but for the twists that have turned his life around so much that he's now able to give a substantial donation to this center, as well as the several they've already visited. He's come full circle, and hopefully his donations will help other struggling but talented young people find and achieve their goals, as he has.

As he leaves the center, Blaine glances at the final text Kurt sent him while he was making his final donation of the day. The message was simple and to the point--a long row of heart emojis. With quickening steps and an even brighter smile, Blaine steps towards the waiting car that will return him to his fiancé.

*

Kurt huffs out a soft, breathy laugh at the sound of his father's exasperated voice sounding from his phone. He rubs at his forehead as he leans back in his office chair, feeling a twinge of pressure there. With Blaine out of the office during their last work day before a three-week vacation period, there is still a steady stream of tasks to complete; yet Kurt just can't seem to get himself into work mode. It's so very unlike him.

“So you're all set then, Dad, really? All packed, got your passport…”

“Why are you talking to me like a ten year old kid who's never flown a day in his life, Kurt?” Burt's voice chuckles gruffly from the phone.

“I know, I know. Sorry, Dad. It's just…there's so much…we leave tomorrow. Tomorrow, Dad, and then when we get there we have to meet with Moira to go over the seating arrangements one last time, and I swear to god, if it dares to rain and spoils the grass…”

“Kurt, Kurt! Whoa, kid.” Burt laughs again. “Yes, I'm fully aware that tomorrow we fly to another country, and then we'll have another day of running around like headless chickens before a very, very memorable day. Calm down, I know you're just all wedding-ed up.”

“‘Wedding-ed up?' Really, Dad?”

“All I'm saying, Kiddo, is that I know you--how you are and how you get. I'm just teasing you. I think that you've done pretty remarkably to get so close to the wedding without freaking out or giving the media something to go crazy for.”

“Gee, thanks, Dad--I think.” Kurt laughs again, any troubles or worries already fading with each passing second. Talking to his dad has always been a source of comfort--and probably will be, no matter how old or successful he becomes.

“I'm serious, Kurt; I'm proud of you. Proud of both you, but really, so incredibly proud of you, kid. I know I've said that before, but I don't know if you always believed me, and I hope that you believe me when I say it now. You may have had a hard game to play in the beginning, but you got there in the end, bud; you won. And your prize? It's priceless, it's…”

“It's Blaine,” Kurt whispers through a tightening throat, clenching his eyes shut, smiling through tightly pressed lips.

“No, it's not,” Burt says quietly, his tone not unkind. “Marrying Blaine is not your prize for kicking life's butt, Kurt. Blaine is what and who you deserve. You two belong together for so many different weird and wonderful reasons. And no matter what life you've lived, who you are, or what you've achieved, you will always deserve each other. Your prize, Kurt, is this remarkable life you've built for yourself as well as a joint future with an equally remarkable man.”

“Dad…I…thank you.”

“No, thank you, Kurt. Thank you for being the son I always knew you were even when you thought you weren't. Thank you for being my perfect, incredible son. And you know your mom will be there walking down that aisle with you right? You know that?”

Despite his own doubts about a deity, Kurt honestly feels this special moment with his dad and, without hesitation, he softly replies, “Yeah, Dad, I…I know that.”

Kurt closes the lid of his laptop, realizing that he's not going to get much else accomplished for the rest of the day as he shifts to rise from his desk.

“Good,” his dad continues. “I love you. Tell that fiancé of yours that I love him, too. Carole and I will see you both in around eighteen hours, ok, kid?”

The office door opens, and Blaine walks in, a welcome sight indeed. He places his keys, phone, briefcase and other work paraphernalia on the desk. Kurt moves around his desk, smiling as Blaine looks up, frowning momentarily at the redness of Kurt's clear, but happy, sparkling eyes.

“Yeah, ok, Dad, I will. Love you; give my love to Carole. See you soon.”

“Everything ok?” Blaine asks quietly, watching as Kurt ends the call and places the phone down alongside Blaine's on the desk.

“Everything's perfect,” Kurt replies, and the easy tone of his voice leaves no reason for Blaine to doubt him. He drapes his arms around Blaine's shoulders, tugging him in tight and close. “Somebody loves you, by the way.”

“Aw, I love your dad and Carole, too.” Blaine grins, eyes dark and dancing playfully.

“Somebody else loves you, too.” Kurt softly bops his nose down against Blaine's.

Blaine breathes out a happy sigh, ducking to tuck his head under Kurt's chin. “You know, I don't think I'll ever tire of hearing that.”

“You should be used to it by now,” Kurt murmurs, swaying their bodies gently together from side to side.

Never, Blaine thinks. He doubts he'll ever get used to what it means to feel so whole and unbelievably happy, when once he never thought that he would. Sometimes he's still afraid that if he sinks too far into that realm of comfort, he could be tossed back out at any moment, like a carpet pulled out from under his feet.

As if reading his mind, Kurt murmurs against Blaine's temple, kissing him softly. “Actually, you know I don't think I'll get used to it…used to us, either. We're too good together. So let's just be helpless and hopeful together, huh?”

Blaine can feel the imprint of Kurt's small smile against his hairline. “Yeah, always,” he breathes, a pitch of awe in his tone. “Together. Helplessly and hopefully, always and forever.”

Kurt laughs a trail of light kisses down Blaine's face to his waiting lips. “Oh, there he is! I was wondering when Mr. Sentimental would show up…”

“Oh, you were, were you?” Blaine murmurs, his voice taking on a tone of deep huskiness as he slowly pulls back and away from Kurt's searching lips. He twines his fingers through Kurt's and starts to pull him forward, walking them toward the office door. “And why is that?” he asks, his pupils dilating and chasing the amber of his irises as his gaze flits between Kurt's hooded eyes and his full pink lips.

Catching on, Kurt slinks forward with him, hips rolling from side to side, his fingers curling and gliding against Blaine's skin, flirtatious, seductive, wanting. “Because,” Kurt starts as he crowds into Blaine's space, backing him over the threshold into the main hallway and toward the staircase, “I think I'm in the mood for some good ol' fashioned lovin'.” He winks, and Blaine helplessly giggles, loosing his sexy façade and takes off towards the staircase, Kurt's hand firmly held in his.

By the time they set foot through their bedroom door on the second floor, Kurt's shirt is unbuttoned almost all the way, and Blaine's jacket is long gone. There's a trail of shoes and socks randomly scattered behind them on the carpet and the sound of belts being whipped through belt loops, followed by soft thumps as belts and buckles being carelessly tossed aside.

“Can you do that?” Kurt whispers around Blaine's lips as two pairs of hands get to work, ridding each other of the rest of their clothes.

“Hmm?” his fiancé replies, rutting his hips up involuntarily as Kurt's hands slide Blaine's pants over the swell of his ass, guiding them down his thighs. “Do what, Babe?” Blaine's hands take over when he's left standing in just a pair of boxers, grabbing at Kurt's clothed body in search of bare skin like something possessed.

Kurt moans as Blaine finishes stripping him of the rest of his clothes, and the now naked skin of his back is met with the cool comfort of their bed covers. Blaine carefully lowers him to the bed, shimmying out of his boxers and stretching his own body over Kurt's, so they're both fully flesh to flesh.

“Love me,” Kurt breathes. “Just…make love to me, Blaine.”

“Always,” Blaine groans, kissing him full on the mouth and then trailing his lips lovingly down Kurt's jaw and neck, spending extra time and attention there before moving on to his collarbone. “God--always. You never have to ask…not ever.” He continues to kiss, lick, nip, and suck his way to Kurt's left nipple, circling it with his tongue, and teasing the other with his fingers.

Kurt is gasping and clutching at Blaine' shoulders and then his hair, as Blaine continues to mouth his way down to Kurt's belly.

It's like Matrix speed, the world slowly spinning around them, but all they see, all they know in this moment is each other. Blaine pauses and raises up before proceeding any further, resting on his forearms as he stares down at Kurt, a look of love and longing and lust in his eyes. He glances at the marks left by some of his love bites, but his eyes just naturally are drawn to Kurt's. Blaine never tires of the intensity of the color or of the emotion he sees in those eyes, and now he sees his love reflected exponentially.

Kurt knows the warmth he feels is more from the love they share than from the warm sun that's coming through the open blinds, spreading onto the bed in large wedges and spilling onto the carpet.

Kurt's heart hasn't stopped thudding in his chest, and his breath continues to catch--especially when he looks at Blaine. The sunlight is always good to his fiancé, and he looks positively glorious like this, in the golden light, all naked and bronze, toned chest and strong arms. He looks ready, so ready to just take Kurt, take him apart inch by inch and build him back up again using only his own body and his love.

“This could…oh…this could be the…ah…the last time we do this…” Kurt manages to whisper as Blaine breaks his own gaze away and stretches across him to reach into the nightstand drawer.

After a quick fumble for their trusty bottle of lubricant, dropping it to the mattress beside them, Blaine returns to hovering above Kurt. He looks down at him with such a look of confusion that Kurt would laugh out loud if he weren't still gasping for air.

“Sex? The last time we have sex? Wha…just…what?”

Kurt smirks, reaches for the lube, uncaps the bottle and dribbles some over his fingers, letting the cool substance slide and trickle between his fingers, almost playfully, as he draws out the moment.

“Before we're married, Blaine. This is probably the last time we're going to have sex as fiancés.”

Blaine positively beams as Kurt's words sink in, but his grin is short-lived, and his breath stutters out of him as Kurt lowers his hand to Blaine's hip, down and over until he connects with his already-hard cock. Kurt grasps it within his slippery fist, tenderly at first and then with more vigor. As Blaine begins thrusting into his hand, Kurt uses all the special little movements he knows will tease Blaine into a state of incoherency.

“We…ah…yes!…we…uh, we won't… Kurt!…be like this…oh!...again…before the wedding?” Blaine's words are barely intelligible, deliciously raspy and hoarse, his eyes widening and then closing with every squeeze and twist of Kurt's fingers.

“Never say never, Honey,” Kurt grins, biting his lip, his own hips jolting upwards, chasing after the movement of Blaine's. His own dick is hard and waiting, at least somewhat patiently, the swollen head bouncing off of his tight stomach. “But we'll be surrounded by everyone pretty much from the moment we step off that plane, if they have their way then…”

“Ok, got it,” Blaine gasps. “Sshh, no more talking of abstinence and just…god Kurt!...mmm…”  

“What? What do you need, Blaine?” Kurt slows his hand, drags a finger down the length of Blaine's shaft, circling his balls, tracing the shape of his tightening sac, moving his fingers down and in, lightly trailing towards Blaine's perineum and then the crack of that full, gorgeous ass.

Blaine lowers his face toward Kurt, who automatically lifts his head, meeting him for the offered kiss. He captures Kurt's hand, preventing him from continuing to “let his fingers do the walking” and, tangling their fingers together, Blaine gently but firmly traps Kurt's hands, pinning them to the mattress on each side of his head.

“Not yet,” Blaine whispers, dotting butterfly kisses all over Kurt's face, down his neck to his chest and back again. “First, I'm going to love you, love you just like this.” Kurt had, after all, asked him to make love to him, not the other way around, and he really wants to make this special.

Of course, it's always special when they're like this together. But there's something about this moment, their last time together like this before their impending nuptials, something that seems to make this moment even more exceptional than all of the other times before.

Kurt is asking him to do something for him, to give him something and, somewhat paradoxically, to take him. And Blaine will not disappoint. Regardless of how much or how often Blaine enjoys having Kurt hard and full inside of him, he's just as excited and fulfilled by this, when given the opportunity--the opportunity to wreck Kurt in all of the very best ways. The man whom he once thought was off limits, is now the man who is his, and only his.

“Be my guest,” Kurt drawls, still a little breathless. Blaine presses his hips down against Kurt's in affirmation and, after trading a few more kisses through moans and groans and helpless smiles, he sets about his task with new determination.

With Kurt naked and pliant beneath him, spread out and ready and waiting, Blaine takes his time. He shifts more to the side and then duplicates Kurt's earlier actions, covering his fiancé's straining cock with licks and strokes and tiny kisses, tenderly rolling his balls, and then, releasing Kurt's hands, he lets his fingers travel--oh so slowly--to his perineum, vaguely aware that he's mimicking Kurt's earlier attempt with him.

He pauses just long enough to apply small dollops of lubricant to his fingers, quickly warming them before beginning to stroke the sensitive area, making occasional teasing movements towards the final destination, but always drawing back, until Kurt is whining in frustration.

Blaine continues stroking, knowing that he's successfully massaging Kurt's prostate, giving him a taste of what is yet to come, when Kurt begins to arch and thrust even more, gasping and moaning. Blaine almost can't help himself--he leans down and kisses Kurt, then lets his lips travel once again as he tongues one of Kurt's pebbled nipples and continues mouthing downwards. Blaine has to restrain himself from sinking his mouth onto Kurt's cock because he also has to restrain Kurt, who is beginning to thrust and thrash more wildly, seeking either more friction on his cock or to maneuver Blaine's fingers towards his straining hole.

Relenting, Blaine adds a little more lube and, grinning and murmuring wordlessly, begins softly stroking the puckering opening of Kurt's asshole, spreading and gliding, and finally pushing one fingertip in achingly slowly, drawing out a long groan from his lover writhing underneath him. As soon as he feels Kurt's muscle relax, he pushes in a little farther.

Kurt cries out for “more!” and “deeper!” so Blaine obliges him, inserting another finger and stroking carefully. Kurt's impatience is contagious, however, and by the time he's three fingers deep, brushing the pads of his fingers against Kurt's swollen and sensitive prostate, Blaine's own cock is curling, leaking at the tip and jutting out impatiently.

As his fingers work and Kurt wriggles beneath him, sighing out his name in breathless pleas, Blaine smiles down at him, his eyes shining with a slight shimmer from the love he has for this man. He savors this delicious moment in time, wanting it to last forever, as he waits for what he knows will come next.

“Yes, Blaine, oh yes…please!” Kurt keens beneath him, his body moving with the flow of Blaine's fingers, like some well-rehearsed, perfectly memorized dance between them. Blaine feels beyond privileged to see Kurt fall apart so freely with him, and he can't help but feel a sense of pride that he's the one responsible for bringing Kurt this much pleasure and the feeling of safety he knows accompanies it.

Blaine doesn't think he'll ever quite get used to this--this sharing of love and lust and trust, the slow, sweet easiness of it all--and the fact that Kurt is loving him back, encouraging him, wanting him so much and so badly. Blaine often doubted he would ever have something so special, especially when he remembers back to the shaky beginning of their relationship--not just being his PA, but when the only way Kurt could let him in, even a little, was to exchange hand-jobs or blow-jobs--and then he'd usually revert to being closed off again. And now there's this, there's now, there's forever.

Smiling, Blaine eases his fingers out of Kurt's loose body, loving the feel of Kurt's pucker gripping around his slick fingers as he slides out, not wanting to be empty.

“I love you,” he breathes, planting a kiss on Kurt's forehead as he settles over Kurt and breaches his entrance with a gentle, but steady push of the thick head of his cock. “I love you so much, Kurt.”

“Me…oh god, Blaine!...me…too. I love…love you, too,” Kurt gasps, lips alternating between a smile and open-mouthed “ohh!” as his eyes start to roll back in his head.

Blaine pushes all the way in, slow and deep, waiting a moment to adjust and make sure Kurt is okay. Kurt's hands are in Blaine's hair and then in his own hair and then grabbing at the sheets and Blaine and back again to repeat in some wild attempt to keep from screaming. Blaine grins when Kurt thrusts up and, in a voice almost comically combining pleading and demanding, manages to get his point across that he should move. Blaine slowly, tantalizingly, withdraws just until only the head of his cock remains engulfed.

Kurt's voice abandons any pleading and becomes pure demand as he cries Blaine's name and grabs at him--anywhere he can reach--to pull him towards him again. There's a chorus of rasped, breathy moans, and then Blaine's back in again, thrusting steady and slow, deep and hard. He's utterly mesmerized by the sight of his cock repeatedly disappearing into his beautiful fiancé--and by the sight of his beautiful, incredible fiancé completely losing it…

There's fucking--fucking at any time and in any place and on any surface--raw and needy, full of lust and pure desire to just take and to give and to have--again and again. And then there is this, this right now--beautiful, slow lovemaking--taking their time, because they just can.

It's this that drives Blaine on, makes him push ever more deeply into Kurt's body, curling their fingers together by Kurt's head, where his hair is spiking out in all directions and leaning down to kiss, lick, and bite Kurt's knuckles. This whole exchange of love and sex, molding into one exchange of whispers, of breath, and of wordless sounds is more than Blaine had ever expected or even hoped for.

Blaine will be thankful for this, being able to have this with Kurt, every damned day of his life, a life that he now dares to dream will be spent loving Kurt for a very, very long time.

Blaine's silent and brief reverie is broken by Kurt becoming noticeably more frantic in his movements and--oh, those wonderful noises he's making--with every thrust of Blaine's hips. Blaine's thighs are quaking with pressure, and tiny beads of sweat are pooling at his temples and the nape of his neck. The sun continues to pour in through the bedroom window, adding to the hot and heavy muskiness of the room and the blush spreading across their cheeks and necks and chests.

Already knowing the answer, Blaine whispers, “Are you close?” into the moist juncture of Kurt's neck, mouthing hungrily at his skin as his hips steadily rock into him. Kurt can only nod vigorously, his hair flopping forward over his eyes. His cock has gone untouched since Blaine abandoned it for this, and they both know by the breathy, urgent gasps escaping from Kurt's lips, and the clenching grip of his hole around Blaine's pulsing cock inside him, that he's about to come, wildly and freely, solely from this.

“Me, too,” Blaine grunts in reply. “C..come for me first? I…I want you to come for me first--come on, Baby, set me off.” His teeth are clenching with the effort to hold back and let…

“Oh! There…there, Blaine!...ahh!” Kurt moves his legs up, lifting his calves over Blaine's shoulders, pulling him in at just that angle. Blaine speeds up his pace and plunges in with perfect precision, his cock hitting that delicious spot inside Kurt so sinfully sweetly.

With his mouth grimacing open in a silent yell, Kurt comes hard, rocking his hips against Blaine's timely thrusts, spurting warm and wet and thick between their bodies as his cock jerks erratically. He feels it when Blaine's movements also become wild as he follows him over the edge, chanting Kurt's name. With a blissed-out grin, Kurt automatically and purposefully clenches his asshole, milking Blaine's dick for all that it's worth, thrilling at the feel of Blaine filling him up.

Too soon, breathless, spent and sated, Blaine begrudgingly slips free before he softens so much that it becomes uncomfortable. He firmly keeps them close together, though, their bodies sticky with come and sweat, fingers twined and legs tangled as they try to regain something resembling regular normal breathing and heart rates.

“Kurt,” Blaine breathes, his tone indicating no form of question or reasoning for speaking his fiancé's name. “My Kurt.”

Kurt hums tunelessly, happy and sleepy, revelling in the warmth of Blaine wrapped around him like a blanket and the heat of the sun from the far windows pouring in.

“Oh god, here comes Mr. Sentimental again,” Kurt croaks, wrapping his arms tighter around Blaine's back and shoulders, moving his head to mouth against Blaine's dampened curl-tangled temple.

“Get used to it,” Blaine smiles, nuzzling his nose against Kurt's face, “because in around twenty-four hours, he's gonna be taking permanent residence.”

“Blaine,” Kurt murmurs, lifting his hands to curl around Blaine's face, fluttering his lashes at him suggestively. “Honey, that guy, has always been around. We don't need a wedding for an excuse for my gorgeous, smart, talented, kind, loving, funny personal assistant to show his sentiment…”

“Now who's Mr. Senti…wait…personal assistant?”

The laughter rolls around the bedroom as Blaine is rolled over onto his back and covered with Kurt's bare body. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“I'll do one better--I'll marry you.”

“Deal.”