During their entire three-week stay on the glamorous, exclusive Caribbean island of St. Barts, Kurt and Blaine only once encounter the possible threat of a suspicious zoom lens. The narrow strip of hot white sand that has been generously named a beach is supposed to be private, used only by whoever currently is staying in the villa, which is located just up the hill, overlooking the clear azure water.

That one time also happens to be on the very same day that Blaine gets a little too handsy when applying Kurt's sun block lotion to his chest and stomach.

As a result, it's also the only time they retrieve one of their cell phones from the safe in the villa's bedroom closet and use it to check in with Santana back home.

They're married now. Married! Of course they don't care if an innocent photo is leaked to the internet and shared with thousands. If they worried about such things all the time, they wouldn't have a life. Sharing parts of their lives with others--wanted or not--is something that, with time, they have learned to accept. What they do care about, however, is the perpetrator's Photoshop skills, and the tag lines or descriptors that may accompany some of their more intimate pictures--manipulated or not.

Santana assures them that the photo has not been uploaded anywhere that she has searched--and she's been very thorough. Maybe the guy just wanted to get a good view of the topaz glistening ocean, with tropical trees gently swaying in the breeze, just beyond Kurt's and Blaine's personal sand- and sun-filled safe haven.

There may be times when the newlyweds might graciously surrender bits of their privacy, but for now, at least, they guard their solitude. Besides, there are some things they always will keep beyond closed doors, to share only with each other with hushed whispers breathed so closely that they might as well be sharing the same warm, sweet breath.

*

The bedroom, like the rest of the villa, is all light and bright, with walls tinted in complimentary washes of color, flooring that is tiled with exquisite marble in some areas and covered with plush sand-colored carpet in others. There are bold decorative touches, unique works of art, and the occasional wooden beams or posts that serve as structural and aesthetic purposes. Everything seems to be artfully planned, including the luxurious, eucalyptus-planked bathroom, with its ‘snail-shell' shower, opening to the outdoors, if one desires to bathe under the open sky. The villa might be described as an ‘urban modern marries traditional island' paradise.

Blaine smiles, looking up from where he's seated at the end of the bed, knees bent and legs open, bare feet planted to the floor, as Kurt appears from the direction of the bathroom. The late afternoon sun is pouring through the open French doors leading from bedroom to balcony, and the rays illuminate Kurt's whole body, the light making him appear almost other-worldly.

Kurt's skin is flushed a rosy red from a warm, invigorating shower, with sun-kissed freckles dancing across his back and shoulders and dotting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His hair, damp and spiking in all directions from a thorough towel drying, is naturally sun-highlighted, light tips contrasting nicely with his usual deeper chestnut color.

While Kurt's relationship with the sun may not be as easy-going and carefree as Blaine's, with his already olive-toned complexion, he still looks so naturally, heavenly gorgeous like this that Blaine wonders how on earth they've ever managed to make it out of the bedroom at all during their honeymoon, or the villa for that matter.

Warmer climates may not be one of Kurt's natural habitats, but seeing Blaine's face light up when Andre handed him a photograph, telling him that they were more than welcome to use one of his investments for their honeymoon, Kurt knew immediately that he wasn't going to complain or suggest otherwise. It definitely didn't hurt that there would be no travel agents needed and no possible slips or leaks to the press.

Kurt knots a towel around his hips and walks farther into the bedroom as Blaine continues to stare at him, actually gawking and dropping the bowtie he's fiddling with to the mattress.

“Need a hand?” Blaine asks around a dry mouth, watching as Kurt picks up a bottle of aloe vera after-sun lotion from the vanity stand.

“Of course,” Kurt replies, slowly and almost seductively moving towards Blaine, the towel curling around his swaying hips as he uncaps the bottle with a suggestive grin on his face. He sits between his husband's parted knees, his back to Blaine's chest, causing him to scoot back a bit on the bed. Kurt gazes out at the incredible view from the open bedroom veranda as he squirts a large amount of the cool, soothing lotion into Blaine's waiting hands, which are now wrapped around his waist, palms held facing up in front of his stomach.

Kurt moans with pleasure when he first feels the soft press of Blaine's lips to a lightly sun-tinted shoulder, followed by the feel of Blaine's skilled fingers gently rubbing the lotion into his skin.

“Feels good,” Kurt murmurs, rolling his neck as Blaine's hands massage their special magic into his skin. With his head lolling forward and eyes drooping, Kurt adds, “Sun's got me beat today.”

Blaine works a trail of the green, softly scented lotion down Kurt's back and over his sides and waist. “You wanna just stay in tonight, Love? I know we made reservations, but…”

“It's our last proper night here, Blaine; we fly home tomorrow night. Let's make it special…”

Blaine finishes up, recapping the bottle and wiping the remnants from his hands onto Kurt's towel, which is still sitting snugly around his hips. “Hmm, I guess if the past three weeks haven't been all that special…” he remarks, grinning when Kurt twists around and gives him his best Seriously? face. Blaine chuckles, leaning forward to peck Kurt's nose. “Are you sure you want to go out for dinner tonight, though? I'm sure we could have it delivered…”

Kurt turns on the bed to face his husband and says in a voice somewhat raspy from both the sun and sea as well as from his emotions. “Blaine, tonight I want to take my husband out to dinner, to the seafood restaurant he's been raving about ever since we got here. We're going to gorge ourselves and enjoy our last night together before we re-enter our whirlwind reality of a life. And then I'm going to bring him back home to our private ocean-view villa, take him onto that sheltered balcony, right there,” Kurt accentuates this with a nod of his head, “and make sweet, slow love to him on that particularly comfortable chaise lounge for hours--until he forgets his own name.”

Kurt's face is close to Blaine's when he finishes, and his eyes drop to Blaine's lips, searching and wanting, teasing.

Blaine's eyes darken, and his chest rises and falls rapidly with each intake of deep breath. It's amazing how Kurt can still do this to him, catch him off guard, send his heart rate soaring and his pulse beating rapidly.

“And what name would that be?” Blaine whispers, playfully dragging a finger tip along the soft edge of the towel lining Kurt's waist.

“Blaine. Hummel. Anderson,” Kurt replies, also whispering, punctuating each word as if he just can't say it enough.

Blaine murmurs his satisfaction at Kurt's words. He nudges forward, his lips apparently on autopilot as he nuzzles into Kurt's neck, the tang of the lotion tingling against his lips, while his fingers gently but persistently tug at the towel until it falls from Kurt's hips.

They may be just a little late for their reservation…

*

The chosen restaurant for the night is beautiful and just down the beach from their villa, making it perfect for a tipsy, grope-y stumbling walk back later. The main part of the restaurant is on land, but verandas, open to the night sky for alfresco dining, are built on stilt-like wooden frames within the shallow waters of the ocean. The restaurant is generous in size; tables are spaced well apart, and pillars, decorative walls and high-rise booths ensure privacy for more intimate dinners and conversation. The lighting is subdued, mostly provided by candles--some hanging from wooden pillars and others placed all around in little colored glass jars--creating a lovely, peaceful ambience. The quiet flow of Calypso music softly filters through the restaurant, mixing with the gentle sound of the waves on the beach, adding to the peaceful atmosphere of the evening.

“I was sure you were going to go for the wood-fired lobster tail--I saw the way your eyes lit up when Ajay recommended it,” Kurt comments, looking at Blaine and smirking as he reaches across the table with his fork, picking a jumbo prawn from Blaine's plate.

Blaine smiles and shakes his head at Kurt's not-so-subtle thievery. “Yeah, well, I also saw the way you couldn't make up your mind when looking at the menu; so I thought I'd help you out and get something I knew you wanted, too.”

Kurt blissfully grins, and a small moan escapes his lips as he tastes the zesty mango sauce coating the prawn. He chews slowly, savoring the delicate blend of flavors, swallows, and takes a sip from his cocktail. “You just don't stop, do you, Mr. Hummel-Anderson?”

“Nope,” Blaine says with a wink. “For you? Not ever. Dig in, Love.” Both men are well aware that Blaine, in particular, has been using this new term of endearment more and more often since the wedding, perhaps even since the engagement. However, neither man feels the need to mention it, preferring to let it be another simple, natural progression in their relationship. Blaine loves the way Kurt's eyes light up whenever the term slips out, how his face and features glow from the lovely surprise of hearing it.

An hour or so later, they've moved from the restaurant's interior to one of the private verandas. Sitting tucked up into each other's sides, they sip casually at their drinks, occasionally picking a particularly tempting piece of fruit from the complimentary dessert plate Ajay, their server, has provided.

As they watch the twinkling lights from the roof of the restaurant glisten out on to the now dark water's surface, Kurt murmurs, “We should have packed before we came out tonight--I'm definitely not going to be in the mood to do it after such a wonderful evening.”

Blaine chuckles softly under his breath, squeezing Kurt's hand in his. “We've got time tomorrow; our car isn't coming until late afternoon.”

Kurt grins, finishes off his drink and turns to face Blaine, his lips brushing against his earlobe, breathing softly upon his neck. “Oh, but I had other plans for our final hours in paradise,” he whispers.

Blaine swallows, feeling the heat flush to his cheeks as the soft cool fabric of Kurt's loose linen shirt rubs against his bare skin, revealed by his boat neck collar. Kurt has looked--and has been--entirely edible the whole time they've been on this trip together. They've both worn the lightest and loosest of garments when out in public and next to nothing at all in the confines of their sun-filled temporary home, and Blaine thinks the look is one that is especially suited to Kurt, giving him an almost ethereal quality.

Tonight is no exception, and if Blaine tilts his chin just so and lowers his gaze, he can just make out the outline of Kurt's slowly growing erection, snug underneath his light gray three-quarter length chinos.

“O-Oh yeah?” Blaine squeaks out.

“Yeah,” Kurt breathes, “and the sooner we get back to the villa...”

As much as Blaine hates it when wait staff are snapped at for their attention, he begins rapidly clicking away with his fingers, sitting up and peering back towards the dining room until he catches Ajay's eye, and the boy comes hurrying over to them.

After settling the bill and thanking Ajay for his time and superb, friendly service with comments as well as a rather generous tip, they swiftly make their way to the exit, which is just steps away.

They're blushing and giggling almost like school kids, grabbing for each other's hands and have almost made it to the steps leading to the beach, when they hear a gasp, a scrape of a chair, and an “Oh my goodness!”

The voice is not recognizable, but the tone is familiar--surprised, young, and very excited. It's not often this happens, especially somewhere like this, and tonight Kurt may have been tempted to ignore the small voice behind them as politely as possible, continuing down the steps and dragging Blaine behind him.

However, Blaine likes to encourage Kurt to embrace his fan base and learn to deal with such public displays of appreciation; so, with his big, round, honeyed heart-eyes, he successfully turns Kurt to greet the person who's so excited to see him.

“Blaine? Blaine Anderson?” the young girl squeaks as they both turn to face her. She steps forward shyly, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Oh.

“Uh…yeah…hi,” Blaine stutters, stepping forward to greet the girl with an outstretched hand and equally wide eyes. Kurt stays where he is, eyes shining, lips parted and smiling knowingly.

“Oh my god! Hi! I'm so sorry; I like never do this but…um…I'm such a big fan of yours!” the young girl with sun-bleached blonde hair and freckled, flushed skin gushes breathlessly.

An older man rises from his seat at their table, leaving what appears to be a family gathering. He approaches them and puts a hand on the girl's shoulder. “Honey, come on; leave the poor man alone. He's on vacation, like us.” The man chuckles, obviously a little embarrassed, and gives Blaine an apologetic look.

“But Dad…”

“No, no, it's ok. She's fine; it's totally cool,” Blaine laughs, smiling brightly at them both. The girl's father gives him an appreciative nod, nods a polite, silent greeting to Kurt, and then steps back.

“It's nice to meet you. What's your name, honey?” Blaine asks, bending a little so he's more at her height. She's a petite girl and doesn't look any older than about fourteen.

Kurt looks on, smiling almost uncontrollably as his husband interacts so sweetly with his young fan. Blaine asks her questions, listens intently to her answers, giving her all of his attention. He signs a napkin for her, using her mom's eyeliner pencil, and wraps her up in an adorable hug as her father fumbles with her cell phone to take a picture of them both.

“Do me a favor, please honey, and don't share that photo anywhere until after you go back home, ok?” Blaine says with a wink, and the poor girls blushes from her toes to her cheeks, nodding obediently.

As the girl rambles on and her father steps forward again to try to usher her away, Kurt steps up to them, discreetly winding his fingers with Blaine's by his side. He wiggles the fingers of his free hand in greeting to the girl and mouths a friendly, “Hi.”

“Oh,” Blaine turns, grinning brightly as he squeezes Kurt's fingers. “You know my husband, Kurt, right?”

“Oh, oh my gosh, yes! I read somewhere that you guys were getting married. Congratulations!” She blushes and, peering up at Kurt, shyly asks, “Y-you're… um…a model or something, right?”

Kurt giggles, and the sound is so sweet to Blaine ears. Everything about this moment is somewhat surreal and utterly refreshing. “I'm a designer, sweetie,” he answers. “But you're right; I've modelled once or twice, too.”

“Oh my gosh, yes, of course! My uncle actually has a few of your bowties. Uh-um…Hummel Designs, right?” she ventures, cheeks blushing.

“Hummel-Anderson, now,” Blaine corrects with a grin before Kurt gets the chance to open his mouth. “And your uncle has good taste,” he continues, smiling with a wink. “It was so nice to meet you, honey. Thank you for saying hello to us, and thank you for your support; it means an awful lot.”

They make their polite farewells and, as the girl is gently but firmly ushered back to her seat, albeit with several glances back over her shoulder, Kurt and Blaine are able to slip out of the restaurant. 

They're hand in hand, making their way up the lamp-lit lane in a calm, comfortable silence when Kurt quietly asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Hmm?” Blaine replies, obviously in somewhat of a hazy reverie. “What do you mean? I'm great.”

“About the girl--your fan? Feels good, doesn't it?”

Blaine beams and nods his head. “She was so excited, telling me all about her rehearsals for her school's show and how she follows our careers and advice blog and stuff.” He sighs a little and continues, “It does feel pretty good knowing that something you're doing is helping to encourage and influence others.”

Kurt grins at him, leans in to peck his cheek, and they continue walking lazily towards the villa.

Seeing the grin, Blaine teases, “Oh, so now you admit that you like it, and it feels quote good end-quote when your fans show their appreciation for you,” he makes rabbit ear quote marks in the air with his free hand, “and it doesn't ruin your day?”

“Oh hush, smart ass,” Kurt smirks. “You know it was never completely like that with me.”

“I know, Love,” Blaine replies softly. It's true; they do know each other exceptionally well now--both physically and emotionally--but there is always room for teasing. They know how far they can go.

“It's just...this way of life…it doesn't turn off, you know?” Kurt continues, gently swinging their joined hands by their sides as they continue walking in the peaceful night. “You know what it's like now. We, and by we, I mean I, can get so caught up in myself and in my own moods. We work so hard to get what we want, but there always have to be con's with the pro's, you know? Always has to be something or someone to take the light away from your shine. Part of the make-up…part of the job, I suppose.”

“Hey, if anyone knows how to deal with all that crap, then it's definitely you, Mr. Kurt Hummel-Anderson. My knight in shining--perfectly designed, stitched and fitted--armor,” Blaine drawls. 

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt smiles, biting his lip and rolling his eyes. “I'm so proud of you, Blaine,” he says after a beat of silence with just the crunch of sand and pebbles under their sandaled feet. “Look at how happy you made that kid tonight. Look at how happy you've made me. Look at how happy you've made yourself. That's the most important part.”

“You know what?” Blaine says a little hoarsely, slowing their walk to a crawl and then to a stop in the middle of the ascending walkway to the villa. The moon is high in the star-clustered sky, shining down, pale and milky and brightly over the ocean below and behind them, making such a breath-taking backdrop. “I'm proud of me, too.”

With the sounds of the waves gently flowing back and forth against each other and against the sandy shores, and with eyes shimmering a bit with the realization of how far each of them has come--each with the help of the other--they take each other in their arms and kiss, slow and soft and sweet. Sweet sentiment enhances the moment, and the kisses naturally progress, becoming more and more urgent, only stopping for quick pulls of air. Finally, still holding and kissing each other, they stumble onwards up the hill at a more hurried pace than before.

*

“Oh my god, I knew we should have packed before dinner last night,” Kurt calls from the foyer at the bottom of the staircase. His voice is deep and croaky from lack of sleep and too many cocktails the night before, as well as being little out of breath from hurrying around.

Blaine grins to himself, finishes zipping up the last of their shared luggage and hauls the case off of the bed, rolling it behind him to the landing, where he knows he'll be met with his husband's somewhat unhappy face staring up at him from the ground floor.

“Relax, we're all done up here, and the rest of our travel clothes are all laid out on the bed, waiting.” He grins, remembering what--or who--else had been laid out on this bed, waiting, so often over these past weeks, uttering a silent thank you for all the incredible memories he now has involving that bed, along with other areas and facilities of the villa, indoors and out, of course. He settles the case with the others along the wall, waiting for the villa's attendants to arrive later to transport their belongings.

“Everything all sorted down there?” he asks, squatting at the top of the stairs with bent knees, rocking slightly as he shifts his weight between heels and toes. He's wearing nothing but a pair of linen Jamaica shorts, loose and airy, with a definite ‘I don't care I'm on vacation' look. And now, as he's squatting down, flexing his thighs to keep his balance, the thin material rides up and clings to his hips and legs, revealing more than it conceals. He continues grinning, totally aware of the effect his ‘pose' will have, as he looks down at Kurt.

Kurt looks flustered with flyaway hair, rose-blushed cheeks, a rag cloth in one hand and their travel documents packet in the other.

“Mm-hm,” Kurt barely groans out, teeth worrying his bottom lip. Blaine can see the moment his husband's face changes from annoyed frustration to interested, wanting, slow-burning arousal.

Blaine is absolutely gorgeous, as far as his husband is concerned; there's no other way to describe him. Kurt has always thought so, from the first moment when they sat opposite each other back in that makeshift office years ago. But after three weeks' exposure to the tropical sun, it's a little like torture to Kurt's eyes whenever he looks at his husband. Of course, one of the best things about being married is he hasn't had to keep his eyes or hands away from him during their honeymoon, although he did show at least some restraint in public, of course. 

With deeply tanned, bronzed skin covering his lean yet muscular frame, and dark hair growing in tantalizing, scattered curls across his chest, stomach and thighs, thickening around his groin, Blaine's entire body is perfect for exploring fingers and searching lips. He's Kurt's very own playground.

Blaine knows damn well what he's doing when he slowly rises and moves towards his husband, taking one deliberate step at a time. One of the joys of this villa is the guaranteed privacy, and he feels quite confident as he digs his thumbs under the waistline of his shorts, pushes downwards, revealing a distinct lack of underwear, and steps out of them. Casually he hangs the shorts on the railing behind him; his cock bobs up, already well on its way to full hardness, thick and curling with interest.

Kurt is already working his way up the staircase, having dropped both the documents packet and the cloth, slipping out of his unbuttoned shirt, kicking out of his own shorts as he watches Blaine do the same, eventually meeting him in the middle of the staircase. Gently pushing Blaine down onto one of the wide, smooth steps, Kurt settles himself one step down and positions himself between Blaine's legs, which are stretched down to the next couple of steps.

It's a little precarious, of course, despite the wider steps, but the sight and anticipation of what's to come is far too tempting to stop now. The rounded window above them allows a perfect of wedge of golden sunlight to stream down on them, illuminating their bodies, already glistening with a fine layer of sweat.

“Like what you see?” Blaine purrs, as he curls his arms around Kurt's back and his legs around his hips. Kurt's answer is to attach his lips to Blaine's jaw, nipping at the short dark hairs of his scruff.

He's been growing it for the past few days, the thick fuzz around his jaw and chin growing up around his upper lip and over his cheek-bones to meet his sideburns. Blaine knows Kurt won't readily admit that he likes the tingly burn that his facial hair leaves on his lips, throat, and other…sensitive areas.

“Obviously,” Kurt pants back, grinding his hips up against Blaine's. They both cry out breathlessly when the pink swollen head of Kurt's cock nudges up the underside of Blaine's, and Kurt leans in, resting all of his weight against Blaine and pressing their cocks hot and tight and close together. 

“Ahh, fuck,” Blaine breathes. The step under his ass is cool and hard, and he'll probably eventually lose the feeling in both ass cheeks, but for now he can't stop himself from clenching his legs even more tightly around Kurt, pulling him in even more closely. Digging his fingers under Kurt's thighs, he pulls him up and down in time with his thrusts. “This won't…ah yes…last long…”

“Nuh-uh,” Kurt breathes in agreement, uncurling his hands from the nape of Blaine's neck, abandoning the sweaty nest of unruly curls, and clawing his fingers onto an upper ledge for purchase.

They're not embarrassed by their lack of endurance in this moment; they don't have to be. The past days and nights have literally been spent fucking each other on every clean, available surface, in the hot tub in the master bathroom, and by and in the outdoor pool, from twilight until the sun rises over the ocean vista.

It's not like they have time for anything more anyway; the car will be here soon to pack them off and jet them back to reality. Right now they just need this, and each other, fast and hard and heavy, one last time of uncensored, unrestrained honeymoon bliss.

“C-close, I'm close, Babe!” Blaine pants after a few moments of thrusting and grinding, wet kisses, and soft panting against hot, damp skin. “Come on, come with me, Baby. Make me come. I need to come. Please.” His breathing is ragged now, voice hoarse and delicious to Kurt's ears.

“I-I know, I know, Honey. Sshh, I've got you.” Kurt smiles even though his own orgasm is hurtling upwards, pooling at the pit of his stomach, teasing him, keeping him on edge.

He slides down another step, shushing Blaine with kisses when he moans in complaint. Resting his knees on the lower stair, his hands on Blaine's knees, he curls himself inwards, ducking his head and taking Blaine into his mouth.

“Ah, shit…ah-mmm, Kurt--Baby… Yes!” Blaine babbles, as Kurt swallows him down in one long suck, his tongue heavy against Blaine's shaft and his mouth like a vacuum around Blaine's throbbing, leaking head.

Blaine cards his fingers through Kurt's hair, scratching a little frantically at his scalp, supporting Kurt's head as he bobs up and down, moaning as his mouth surrounds Blaine's cock. It only takes a few particularly effective bobs of Kurt's head, followed by an exaggerated swallow as he takes Blaine deep down into his throat, before Blaine is crying out, echoing off the walls around them, pulsing in Kurt's mouth as he spills down his throat.

Kurt swallows every drop, which had been his plan, after all, to save Blaine from having to clean up, as well as to save the cleaning service extra work. Kurt sucks and licks Blaine through his orgasm, only pulling off when Blaine whimpers at the extra sensitivity, cupping Kurt's jaw to guide him off and away.

“Fffuuucckk…god Kurt!” Blaine breathes out. His pupils are blown, eyes dark and glassy, with sweat rolling in little beads from his temples and down his neck to his chest. He shakes himself out of the aftermath haze and loosens his hold on Kurt to reach out and palm his husband's still rock-hard cock. But before he can tighten his fist and begin his caresses, Kurt is carefully rising to his feet, taking Blaine's hand and guiding him down the rest of steps, grabbing his own discarded clothing on the way.

“I want your mouth on me, Blaine,” Kurt says huskily, as they reach a distressed leather loveseat, tucked away in a nook of the foyer. Kurt quickly spreads his shorts and shirt beneath him and lowers himself sideways onto the sofa, with both his forearms resting on the armrest, his knees on the cushion, and his ass in the air, accessible and beckoning to Blaine.

Sunlight pours in all around from the far windows as Blaine, needing no further encouragement, lowers himself to the cushion behind Kurt, between his legs. He grips his husband's long, strong thighs and spreads them even further apart and, without preamble, leans down and in and licks hungrily between Kurt's cheeks.

Kurt writhes as much as he can under Blaine's firm hold, as Blaine tongues him open, switching between long soft licks and desperate sucks, and then spears his tongue in and out of Kurt with rapid precision.     

Kurt has been close, very close, ever since he began blowing Blaine on the staircase. His cock throbs and leaks clear pearls of pre-come in response to the feel and the sounds of Blaine going at him from behind. Kurt doesn't need anything on or around his cock for now, but he can feel the ache for friction, something, beginning to ascend. Blaine inches back slightly, blowing soft, cool puffs of air around Kurt's loosened, spit-slick rim.

After that, all it takes is Blaine's whispered, breathy words of, “I love you. I love this beautiful ass, all open for me. All mine,” and Kurt is coming, his hole puckering around Blaine's tongue, with a keening cry, as his cock surges and twitches, spilling a thick, white, warm pool onto the clothing he so thoughtfully had arranged beneath him. At one point in his life Kurt may have not sacrificed his clothes for such a purpose, but it's amazing how priorities change given the right circumstances.

Gasping, Kurt rolls onto his back, deftly balling up and tossing his well-used garments on the floor. He huffs out a shaky breath as Blaine collapses on top of him, pressing his lips to Kurt's stomach, licking up the little drops of come that didn't make it to the discarded clothing with little sucking kisses. Blaine moans for effect and grins when Kurt's softening dick twitches a little against his chin, and Kurt follows with a playful swat to his shoulder.

They breathe together in perfect sync, the sounds of gulls and the light breeze from the ocean floating through partly opened patio doors, until Kurt weakly lifts a hand to swipe at some sweat-ruffled hair falling over his eyes.

Blaine grins up at him, chin dug into Kurt's stomach, eyes hooded. His lips are red and swollen from their recent activity. “Are you relaxed now?” he asks, his voice croaking a little as he traces circles into Kurt's hipbone with his finger.

“Mmm…too relaxed,” Kurt mutters, an evident smile in his voice. Blaine lifts himself up on to his knees, straddled over Kurt's slumped, sated body, places his hands on his husband's shoulders, and looks him in the eye with a very serious expression on his face.

“Good, because I need your help. I can't find the black silicone vibrator anywhere, and I'm not leaving without it! It's my favorite!”  Kurt arches an eyebrow, and Blaine adds, “Unless you'd like to leave it as a ‘gift' for the villa's attendants, of course…”

*

It's been only a few weeks since their return to New York, and they've managed to settle back in to their daily routines and lives quite comfortably, revelling in their ‘husband-ness'. It's all been rather surprisingly stress-free, despite the challenges of dealing with a few issues caused by their prolonged absence and being ‘off the grid' for several weeks. Fortunately, they've always had highly qualified staff, and there are only a few situations that had to wait for their return.

By mid-September, Kurt has started work on a new line, hoping to hit an early New Year release date. One of the effects of having Blaine by his side is that Kurt has been more easy-going about working on new material specifically aimed for the general public. And, as they've become more official and public in their relationship, he's also grown more tolerant of public criticism or praise.

On the music production side of the business, Blaine's work continues to expand with increasing popularity. Things have been pretty much non-stop, but it's a pleasant busy-ness, and Blaine usually feels invigorated rather than beat by the end of the day.

Cooper has stepped up his game and is now a full-time PA and, of course, Santana and Sam continue to help in more ways than their job descriptions require. Despite all the support, however, the newlyweds begrudgingly have realized that spending unlimited quality time together will happen only if they hide themselves away somewhere and switch off every electronic device. When possible they take full weekends off work, sometimes adding the odd Friday or Monday into the mix, and make their very own, special extended weekend.   

Amazingly, there has been little media attention since their return, but they know it's only a matter of time before their peaceful interlude is over. While they understand the ramifications of being an up and coming celebrity couple, they're still not overly keen to hear what the media might have to say about their lives in general and their dream-worthy wedding and honeymoon, in particular.

It's during one lazy Sunday morning, when Kurt is dancing around the stove and Blaine is flicking through music video channels on the living room's big screen to find just the right musical accompaniment for poaching eggs, that they hear their names.

The reporter for the three-minute news channel that pops up between every few videos sounds bright and jovial as she launches into her tele-prompted speech about the pair, as if she knows them first-hand.

“How bad can it be?” Blaine says, shrugging when Kurt sends him an accusing glare that clearly says, “Do we really need to hear this? Turn it off!”

Instead, Blaine uses the remote to bump the volume up a couple of notches and comes to stand behind Kurt at the stove, wrapping his arms reassuringly around his waist and resting his chin on his robe-covered shoulder.

“Word is out that fashion guru Kurt Hummel and his music marvel beau Blaine Anderson have tied the knot. The exact when and where of it is still one of New York's best-kept secrets; however, it has been rumored that close friends and family of the pair were flown overseas for a quiet ceremony somewhere in Europe. Our source is tight-lipped, but rumor has it that the vows shared between the two were worth a tissue or two.”

Blaine glances up just in time to see a slightly blurred picture of himself and the sweet girl he'd met at the restaurant on the screen.

“Social media sites have been going crazy ever since this picture was posted online by a fan a few days ago.”

Blaine squints at the screen and notices that if he looks carefully enough he can just make out the reflection of Kurt's smiling face in the restaurant's window beside where Blaine had the girl wrapped in his arms. The screen flashes back to the grinning reporter and the picture disappears.

“After this adorable photograph of Blaine and a lucky fan had been released, our sources suggest that the two honeymooned somewhere in the Caribbean, although we regrettably have no additional pictures or information to share with you. From Music-Now TV, we would personally like to congratulate the lucky, happy couple, and we hope to one day get a glimpse at what we know must have been a sensational ceremony.”

The reporter then moves onto a new piece and Kurt reaches into the back pocket of Blaine's pajama pants, retrieves the remote and turns the TV off. He switches to their internal sound system, and one of Blaine's demos softly flows from the wall speakers, filling the room.

“Well,” Kurt breathes, somewhat surprised by the positive and kind media attention. He places the remote on the counter, turns the heat down on the stove, and turns in Blaine's arms to meet his husband's lips with his own.

“Well, indeed,” Blaine mutters as his lips move slowly down Kurt's jaw and back up again. “Told ya.”

Kurt bumps their noses together. “Yes, you did.”

“I'm always right,” Blaine teases, sliding his arms under the soft cotton of Kurt's robe, and around his body again.

“I hate to admit this…” Kurt murmurs, slowly.

“Buuuutt?” Blaine answers, gently mocking Kurt's tone. They sway on the spot, wrapped up in each other, grinning and kissing lazily.

“But…yes you're right. You always seem to be right, no matter how much I wish you weren't. Even in spite of myself, in spite of my own stubbornness, my own wishes and preconceived ideas…”

“Kurt?” Blaine lifts a hand to tenderly caress Kurt's jaw, his voice low and gentle, trying to interrupt his husband's self-deprecating ramble.

“You are always right Blaine…” Kurt continues, his eyes fluttering closed, and when they reopen Blaine can see the emotion in them, those deep-sea blue-green eyes shining with so much to tell, to share. “…when it comes to me. Right from the very beginning, you knew what you wanted from me and knew what I was able to give, before I even knew it myself. You never gave up on me--on us. And look, here we are, proving everyone else, including me, wrong. Proving you right.”

Kurt grins when Blaine worries his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes misting over. “Because you know what?” he continues as he leans in, kissing Blaine's eyes as they close, his long dark lashes sweeping back the dampness.

Blaine doesn't need to answer him; he knows Kurt will tell him anyway, and he knows that tone of voice; he knows something shivery-nice is forthcoming--something that, not so long ago, Kurt would have been unable to even admit, much less voice.

Blaine blinks his eyes open, grinning lopsidedly up at Kurt, who still has him wrapped tight in a fierce embrace. “Until Further Notice…” Kurt starts, slowly, quietly, “was never good enough for us. It never would have worked; we were always going to be more. You knew that, and so did I, but you were brave enough to acknowledge it. And now, as we stand here, I don't even think Until Forever is going to be good enough--long enough--for us. We're so much more than ‘forever,' don't you think?”

“Really, Kurt?” Blaine croaks out through a heady laugh, his throat tight. “Our vows? You're already repeating our wedding vows to me? You do know, don't you, that you don't need to woo me--or seduce me. You already have me.” He laughs as Kurt grins even more brightly at him, rocking them into the middle of the kitchen where they begin to dance slowly to Blaine's musical genius still flowing through the speakers.

“Oh, Honey,” Kurt sighs, eyes lifting to the ceiling as he smiles. “You know that even if I have until forever, I'll never tire of finding ways to woo and seduce you.

Blaine stops dancing and, as they stand quietly in each other's arms, lifts Kurt's left hand to his lips, pressing the softest of kisses to his wedding band. “Apparently…even longer than until forever--beyond forever.”