Blaine strolls into the studio with a smile on his face. He heard the music long before the room came into sight, and it feels like he's getting a nice treat when he rounds the corner and Kurt is, as he expected, dancing.

He's doing his Tracy Anderson method again, and Blaine watches for quite a while before Kurt catches sight of him. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't stop—he simply pauses and peels his sweaty shirt off, tossing it aside with a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth and a faint blush working up his cheeks. Blaine bites his lip as he grins, leaning silently against the back mirror and watching Kurt from the perfect angle—just behind him and off to the side, so he can watch his back in front of him and his front in the mirror.

Kurt continues on with his routine, and Blaine is mesmerized by the clenching and stretching of his torso. His back twists, and his stomach lengthens and curves and his ribs and hips jut just the tiniest bit beneath the muscle that's been building there when he arches. His skin gleams with sweat and Blaine wants to lick it off the trail of hair below his navel that he swears is thicker than when Kurt first came to the house.

Kurt is certainly maturing. It feels like it's happening overnight, even though Blaine knows it's stretching over the months and probably has been for some time. But Kurt grows taller and broader at a rate that is quite alarming, his muscles thickening, his baby fat melting away. His cheeks grow rougher, his jaw stronger, his cheeks hollowing and emphasizing the sharp angles of his face. He's a hypnotizing example of burgeoning masculinity.

Blaine could almost feel like a dirty old man, enjoying Kurt's slip from youth into manhood, if he weren't reaping the benefits so thoroughly.

Kurt's appetite is becoming almost insatiable, now that he's not embarrassedly denying the cravings of his body. Even though he's with Sebastian most days of the week, he still manages to want more and more from Blaine, to the point that he half worries he'll wear out. And that would be tragic—not because he's afraid of any harm to himself, but because he'd have to take time away from Kurt to recover.

"Are you done exercising?" he asks, when Kurt stops and stretches and turns off the music.

"Are you done watching?" Kurt shoots back, and Blaine laughs, ambling forward.

"Never," he says, running his fingertips down Kurt's back where he's bent down to pick up his shirt. Kurt is sweaty and his muscles are trembling and his skin is hot and Blaine can't help but pout when Kurt steps away, rubbing the shirt over himself and mopping up some of the perspiration.

"Well, I'm done for now," he sighs, crouching down next to his bag and stuffing the soiled shirt in a side pocket before he glances at Blaine coming up behind him in the mirror. "Unless you wanted me to teach you my routine? I promised I would."

Blaine thinks of that, and of what he really wants, and in a glorious moment the two combine, and his cock swells rapidly at the idea. He stops right behind where Kurt is still crouched and pets his hair, smiling down at the damp spikes as they shift with his hand.

"You could," he hums. "Are you too tired?"

"No," Kurt replies, turning his head. He stops at the sight of Blaine's pants bulging right before his eyes and hisses in a breath. "But I have another idea."

He spins and drops down onto his knees, smirking and running his hands up Blaine's thighs. Blaine just breathes and watches, looking down into Kurt's eyes as Kurt pops the button on his pants.

"I have an—an idea, too," Blaine admits, his words stuttering with the rasp of his zipper drawn down just over the tenting of his briefs. "But I think I want to hear yours first."

Kurt just hooks his fingers into his waistbands and pulls down pants and underwear in one go, leaving them around his knees and gripping Blaine's cock where it hangs heavy between his legs.

Blaine gasps when Kurt closes his lips around the tip and licks, squeezing his fingers around the shaft rhythmically, not even stroking and reducing Blaine to gasps and half-formed words at the teasing touches. He peeks up at Blaine through his lashes and smiles around his cock when Blaine lets out a whine, and then he winks and sinks down, finally moving his hand along with his lips and engulfing Blaine in his soft, hot mouth. Blaine rests his fingers in Kurt's hair, feeling every movement beneath his palms.

"Oh,Kurt," Blaine manages, tilting his head back and breathing in deep to control himself, feeling far too close to the edge. It can't end yet—not when he has plans.

It almost ends anyway, though, when he catches them in the mirror. He's a mess—flushed and beginning to sweat himself, his arms twitching as he tries hard not to just pull Kurt in and fuck his mouth. His mouth his open, his eyes hooded, but seeing Kurt at this angle, his shoulders and neck working as he bobs enthusiastically, is truly a sight. His back is tensing at the taper of his waist as his hips thrust into his free hand, his arm moving in a tell-tale fashion, and Blaine's eyes catch the curve of his ass moving just up off the ground, clenching in his tight pants that are shoved halfway down, the tip of his crack peeking just above the waistband.

"Stop," he gasps, pulling Kurt's head away. Kurt whines, and Blaine has to reach down and still his other arm where it works between his legs, drawing a half-hearted glare from Kurt.

"I was close," he complains, and Blaine laughs breathily.

"So was I," he says. "Which is why we had to stop. I'm not done with you yet."

"What do you have in mind?"

Blaine sinks down before him and pulls him into a kiss, groaning at the taste of himself on Kurt's tongue.

"Do you have...supplies, in your bag? From last time?"

Two days before, they'd taken that very bag to the pool, and Blaine had hidden away some lube to prep himself before convincing Kurt to fuck him in the pool. It had been a quick, chlorinated mess of a fuck, but it had been a lot of fun to race to a finish when Nick had promised to join them shortly. They'd barely managed before Nick came in, and judging by the eyebrow he'd raised in their direction, that might have been his doing rather than theirs.

Kurt nods and reaches back for the bag.

"I didn't take it out," he says, hand searching blindly. Blaine loses patience and reaches around him, pulling the bag in and tossing things out of it until he finds the bottle. He pulls it out triumphantly and pushes Kurt to the ground, probably with more force than needed, but Kurt doesn't complain as he shucks his pants and lays back, caressing his own erection lazily and spreading his legs for Blaine willingly.

Blaine quickly sheds his own clothing, throwing it into the mess from the bag without a care, and kneels between Kurt's legs, slicking up his fingers.

"Ready?" he asks, circling a finger around Kurt's puckered hole. Kurt answers by pushing down onto the finger, taking the tip inside before Blaine fully prepares for it. He whimpers and bears down, and Blaine acquiesces, thrusting in slowly.

"More, please more," Kurt begs, squeezing the base of his cock. Blaine complies, slipping in a second finger, but Kurt reaches down and grabs his wrist.

"It's enough, it's enough—"

"No, it's not, just wait—"

"No," Kurt says, tugging Blaine's wrist. Blaine pulls back, and he frowns worriedly, fearing he'd upset Kurt in some way.

"Kurt—"

"I can't wait anymore," Kurt gasps, pushing Blaine back. He lands with anoofon his ass, and Kurt pushes him down till he's lying on his back, throwing a leg over and straddling him before Blaine can protest. He grabs the lube and pours some right onto Blaine's cock, slicking it on and ignoring Blaine's hiss at the cool of the liquid.

"Kurt, are you sure—"

"Yes," Kurt says firmly, sinking back. Blaine moans and his hands fly to Kurt's waist as Kurt takes him in, tight tighttoo tight—

"Oh, god,Kurt."

"You feel so good," Kurt whines, settling down completely, bracing himself with hands spread over Blaine's chest, his fingers flexing into the skin sporadically as he adjusts, eyes clenched and head thrown back. A few moments later, he lifts, thighs tensing and then relaxing as he drops back down, his ass making a faintslapagainst Blaine's hips and thighs.

"Blaine, look—"

They both look to the mirror, and Blaine bites back a cry. He can just see his cock disappearing and reappearing as Kurt moves, his ass parted around its girth so prettily, he wishes he could see it up close—

"Kurt—Kurt, my idea," Blaine grits out, clutching Kurt's waist tightly and trying to hold on long enough for this to work. He looks away from the mirror, whichisn't helping. "Do you want to hear my idea?"

Kurt nods, continuing to ride Blaine without hesitation, his eyes locked on their reflection, his pupils blown as he takes it all in.

"Show—show me your dance," Blaine says, recapturing his attention. "Here."

He tugs on Kurt's hips for emphasis, and Kurt lets out a high keen.

"Okay, okay."

He rears up and settles his hands on Blaine's forearms, pushing Blaine's hands low on his hips and holding hard as he starts to move. His hips slide and circle, slow at first, but quickening soon after. His stomach contracts and releases like it had earlier, and his shoulders twist in opposition to his hips. He's a smooth and sinuous above Blaine, and before he can stop it, Blaine is too close to stop, his balls tightening and a rush shooting up his spine—

"I'm gonna come—" he whimpers, and then he does, bucking up into Kurt as he loses control, spilling hard and snapping his head back, his heels scrabbling against the wood of the floor as he thrashes.

"Just—just another minute—" Kurt gasps, grasping his own cock and tugging frantically. Blaine gathers himself and thrusts up just a little bit, just enough before he goes totally soft, and Kurt throws his head back and comes, white splashing out onto Blaine's stomach in time with his strokes until they taper off, a fine bead forming at the tip with the last slip of Kurt's hand. Blaine licks his lips, imagining himself licking it off the tip, maybe seeing if Kurt's refractory period is short enough—

"I think I need a bath," Kurt groans, pulling off Blaine's cock and laying down next to him, throwing an arm over Blaine's chest, above the stripes of come he'd left. "Carry me?"

Blaine laughs and kisses his forehead, tasting the salt of his sweat and not caring a bit.

"I just got ridden into a wooden floor," he protests. "You carry me—"

Kurt bites his shoulder and Blaine laughs, pulling away.

"Okay," he says. And he realizes he means it in an entirely different way when he says, "We'll carry each other."