Coach Sylvester's latest campaign ad, with its crazed baboons and Monty Python-esque animations, airs Sunday night during the news. Kurt finds it ridiculous and starts to laugh, until he looks to his Dad for his reaction and sees anger.

"What the hell was that?" his Dad yells at the room. Kurt flinches; Finn stares at the television, stunned and unblinking.

"Dad," he says calmly, "It's absurd. No one's going to believe that. Coach Sylvester's just getting desperate. She's polling behind you, and Salazar is gaining ground on her."

"Kurt, she's making me look like an idiot."

"She's making herself look like a idiot."

"No, you don't get it, Kurt. You think everybody is sophisticated like you, but they're not. They see something like this? Even if they don't believe it, it affects them. All they'll remember when they see my name is that crap." His Dad's face is red with anger.

"Dad, calm down," Kurt says, because what's worrying him is not the ad but the way his Dad is reacting. The ad is like the emotional version of the gut buster Coach Sylvester served his Dad, except his Dad doesn't see it that way, isn't laughing it off the way he usually laughs off Coach Sylvester's bizarre hostility.

Instead he's turning an alarming shade of red. "Well, what am I supposed to do, Kurt? How am I supposed to respond to that?"

Kurt takes a breath. "I think you're best to ignore it. You're better than this. Responding to it as if it's serious only gives her credibility when she has none."

"Yeah, that worked real well for John Kerry."

"You could release your medical records?" Finn suggests. "Didn't that guy McCain do that?"

"No," Kurt shakes his head, doesn't bother pointing out McCain lost, too. "Dad's health doesn't need to be part of the debate. We don't want to go there." Kurt is sure he definitely doesn't want to go there. "It's a distraction, and that's what Coach Sylvester wants—to remind everyone the other guy had a heart attack."

"I can't do nothing," his Dad says, fists clenched on his knees. "There's no way I'm doing nothing."

Kurt sighs. "I'll talk to her tomorrow, Dad. See if I can get her to pull the ad." He must have some goodwill left with Coach Sylvester. But what it will be worth, Kurt can't guess.

~*~

It turns out it's not worth much. Monday pretty much sucks. The monumentally stupid and pointless dodgeball game after Glee practice only makes it worse. Kurt comes home late with a red, stinging face and an anger he channels into chopping onions into as perfect and fine a dice as he can. Blaine is staying for dinner and keeps him company in the kitchen, retrieving things Kurt needs as he needs them, but his primary goal seems to be to make Kurt to smile.

"I couldn't have told you the difference between a citrus zester and a ginger grater three weeks ago," Blaine says, tucking the citrus zester neatly into Kurt's outstretched palm. "I'm a pretty good Kitchen Nurse."

Kurt doesn't smile, but he is getting closer. "The title you're looking for is Commis Chef" He zests a lemon into a custard cup.

"I prefer Kitchen Nurse," Blaine says, "since that makes you a Food Surgeon, and I always wanted to date a doctor."

The side of Kurt's mouth twitches. "Chef de Cuisine," he says.

"Gesundheit," Blaine says.

It's stupid, and it doesn't make any sense. But Kurt laughs, even though his cheek still hurts, his Dad is still mad, and he can't believe he's starting to think about pulling a John Kennedy.

~

After dinner, lying on his bed with his shirt rucked up under his arms and Blaine licking a curlicue on his solar plexus, Kurt is still preoccupied. "I'm not ruthless enough," he says.

It's possible he needed some sort of segue. Blaine lifts his head and says, "What?"

"To win. I can't do it."

"Oh, wow. I must have really been doing that wrong," Blaine says, but his smile is tentatively amused.

"Blaine," Kurt says, "You're wonderful and sexy, I'm just," Kurt waves his hands in a manner he hopes conveys his emotional discomfort.

"You're flailing?"

Kurt snorts a sudden laugh, because, literally and figuratively, that's pretty much it. "Yes. I'm flailing."

"Okay," Blaine says as he scoots up, smoothing Kurt's shirt down. "Do you want to talk? Would that help? Or would you rather I just took your pants off?"

"Because blowjobs make everything better?" Kurt asks smiling up at Blaine.

"Because blowjobs make everything better," Blaine confirms. "At least it's my current working hypothesis, but I need to collect more experimental data."

Kurt raises an eyebrow. "There are a lot of variables to control for."

"I know," Blaine says, bending forward to kiss Kurt on the end of his nose. "I'm going to need a lot of data. And a spreadsheet."

"We can definitely do your science project in a bit. " Kurt says with a grin, leaning up and tilting his head to steal a quick kiss as Blaine straightens. He reaches for Blaine's hand and gives it a squeeze. "But I actually do want to talk."

Blaine squeezes back, and his smile fades as he nods. "You're worried about the moral cost of success."

"I knew you were listening," Kurt says, scooting up against the pillows. Blaine settles next to him. "Coach Sylvester told me the only way to win is to fight dirty. I'm scared she's right."

"Are you thinking about your Dad's campaign or yours?"

"Both. More mine than his. I know he's talking to Mr. Schuester about running an attack ad himself, but I really don't want him to go negative." Kurt sighs. "For me. I just can't see how to get through this without having to compromise myself in some way, and I need this on my application."

Blaine nods, but lets Kurt continue.

"It seems like the people who play dirty get the rewards and the success. When we just work hard and do our best, it's a crapshoot, and the other guy's dice are loaded."

"I don't think that's always true, Kurt."

"No?"

"Nope," Blaine says. "Look, sometimes the bad guys do win, sometimes people do horrible things to get ahead, but their motivations are already wrong right from the start, so anything they achieve using those means isn't really a success, even if it looks like it."

"So," Kurt says, "you don't think you can use less than pure means to achieve your goals? No matter how good the goal or how desperate the need to win is?"

"I don't know. Not really, I guess. I think if you want to be good, you have to do good. And if you want to do good, you have to be good."

"Tautological," Kurt says, "The world would stop working if no one ever compromised themselves."

"Compromise isn't the problem. It's that whatever it is, if it's got corruption at its core, then that's got to come out sometime and ruin things. It can't lead to anything truly good," Blaine says. "Look, Kurt, you saved the musical by doing everything right, and the reason you're running for class president isn't just to pad your application or to get the approval of your class. You've actually got a real platform, things you want to change for the better for everyone."

"All right, that may be true," Kurt says, and realizes Blaine may have a higher opinion of Kurt's motives than Kurt does. "But, at this point, I still don't see what I can do to save my campaign. Brittany's telling people they used my face for the new My Little Ponies. No one cares that it's irrelevant nonsense. They just think it's funny. Funny gets votes."

Blaine shrugs. "I don't think there are any easy answers. If it were easy to change the world, everyone would do it." Blaine pats Kurt's thigh. "Do more good, speak more truth."

"Maybe. But as important as good nutrition is, I'm not sure aspiring to be western Ohio's teen version of Jamie Oliver is really inspiring anyone, no matter how beneficently motivated and truth-speaking I am."

"Well," Blaine says, and with a tentative smile, he turns toward Kurt, reaches up, and gently touches Kurt cheek where it still stings. "What if you talked about this?"

~*~

By Wednesday afternoon, Kurt is convinced within a small margin of error that Blaine's blowjob hypothesis is correct. At least, he's feeling nothing but bliss, lying on his bed, his ass on the edge and his legs hanging over the side with Blaine kneeling between them, kissing and stroking his thighs as the last glimmers of Kurt's orgasm fade, leaving him lax and heavy-limbed. It's been a good day, overall. His rewritten speech about bullying was the best at the 'debate', and with Rachel's friendship renewed and unequivocal support given, he's going to start climbing in the polls.

"Hey," he stretches his hand down until his fingertips just brush the top of Blaine's head. "You're too far away. Come up here."

Blaine climbs up next to him until he's fully on the bed, his hips level with Kurt's head. Kurt turns to his side and can see how hard Blaine is in his trousers, and how much their tight dark denim doesn't leave to his imagination. "So how can I make your day better, sir?" he says, looking up at Blaine through his eyelashes and dragging two fingers along the pronounced ridge of Blaine's erection.

Blaine laughs. "Cheesy," he says.

"I was aiming for coy," Kurt says archly.

"You missed," Blaine says, "by, like, a mile."

"Don't make me use my sexy face," Kurt says, swapping his fingers for his whole hand and rubbing harder.

"Ooh, okay, so long as you use something," Blaine says, growing breathless.

Usually Blaine has got his own trousers off long before it's an issue, so Kurt is finding it pleasantly novel amidst his thirteen days of sexual experience, to be undoing Blaine's belt and fly himself.

Kurt teases with his tongue as he gets Blaine's pants and underwear down his thighs, licking light, ticklish flicks around and into Blaine's navel, over the head of his cock, across the tender skin where his leg joins his body. Blaine twists and gasps in breathless laughter. As he moves down Blaine's legs to strip the garments the rest of the way off, along with Blaine's socks, Kurt gives Blaine enough respite to catch his breath. With a clunk, Blaine's phone falls from his trouser pocket. Kurt picks it up and slides it across the bed toward Blaine. Then, smiling up at Blaine, he positions himself on his elbows between Blaine's legs. "Can you pass me the lube?" he asks.

Blaine reaches under the pillow and hands it down to Kurt. It gives Kurt a flash of Blaine pressing the citrus zester into his hand Monday. A strange overlay of familiar, comfortable togetherness. Kurt sets the lube within easy reach and settles his weight down into his shoulders. He wants to take his time today. Throughout the week, they've been doing this: slowing down, paying more attention, learning the subtleties of how they each respond. Kurt is beginning to feel like he's getting pretty good at fellatio, or at least better at sucking Blaine's dick. His gag reflex is persistent, but so is he. And anyway, he's thinking about rimming today, trying to decide if he's ready to do that for Blaine.

So instead of starting at the tip of Blaine's cock as has been his habit, he starts at its base with his mouth, soft closed-mouth kisses. He wraps one hand loosely around Blaine's shaft, but doesn't slide it up to the head, just holds on. Moves his other hand between Blaine's legs to brush his thumb over Blaine's balls. Listening to Blaine's breathing and taking note of the tension in his belly and thighs, Kurt opens his mouth and adds his tongue to the mix of hands and lips. Eases down until he's sliding his thumb to the side, rubbing the hard line of tendon between Blaine's groin and thigh, and curling his tongue over the heavy shape of Blaine's balls.

There's an obnoxious electronic chirp, and Blaine swears. "Just a...text," he says. "Sorry."

Kurt doesn't look up. He's too focused on opening wider and maneuvering Blaine's balls into his mouth, because it felt really good when Blaine did it to him.

"Kurt," Blaine murmurs. Then there's the wonderful slide of Blaine's fingers across his scalp as Blaine pushes one hand into Kurt's hair to hold him gently in place. "Please, don't stop."

Kurt hums in response; his mouth is full. He fumbles one handed for the lube to bring it closer, loosening the cap, with the other he pushes at Blaine's thigh, coaxing it up off the bed; still deciding between finger-fucking Blaine while he blows him or rimming him while he jerks him off, or maybe he could start with one and move to the other.

Blaine's phone chirps again.

"Let me just...in case..." Blaine says, and Kurt glances up to see Blaine reaching for his phone. Kurt watches him but doesn't stop. He eases his mouth off, moves one hand back to Blaine's balls, lifting them gently and extending his tongue to curl up behind them. Blaine's hand twitches in his hair, and Blaine lets out a thick, stuttering sigh. Encouraged, Kurt pushes Blaine's thigh back farther and bends his head lower to better lick up behind his balls. Blaine groans and whispers his name. Kurt looks up again, and this time he sees Blaine is actually trying to type a text one-handed.

Kurt lifts his head. "Something important?" he asks.

"No, just trying to send a quick 'No, we're busy tonight'," Blaine says, grimacing as he fumbles with his phone one-handed. His other hand drifts to the back of Kurt's neck. "You don't have to stop."

"I'll wait until I've got your full attention," Kurt says dryly, and scoots up a little. "What was the question?" he asks, curious.

Blaine says, "Sebastian wanting to know if we wanted to do Drag Queen Wednesday again."

"What?" Kurt asks, feeling the warmth of his returning arousal chill. "You're texting him now? While I'm...?"

Blaine makes a face Kurt cannot in any way decipher.

"And, wait, why are you texting with him at all?"

Blaine says, "I'm not, really. He texts me sometimes. I answer. It's polite."

"Polite?" Kurt asks. And his day had been going so well. "Since when does Sebastian deserve polite?"

"Kurt, he's a Warbler," Blaine says reasonably, robotically. "I can't pretend he doesn't exist."

Blaine in robot mode is nothing Kurt wants while they're in bed together. "If you're worried about your manners, texting him while I've got my face between your legs? That's not polite at all. To me."

"Oh," Blaine says, turning red. "I didn't. I guess—"

"Really? It didn't occur to you?"

Blaine's voice is softer, smaller. "No! Kurt, it wasn't that." Blaine sits up, retreating from proximity with Kurt. He runs a hand over his hair and makes that undecipherable face again. "It was kind of turning me on. Texting him while you were..."

Kurt feels his eyes widening. "Blaine. What?"

"Telling him no while you were busy down there, it just, it was good, okay?"

"Oh, all right. You want to call him to tell him no while I suck your dick, then?" Kurt can't keep the drip of sarcasm from his tone. He regrets his words almost as soon as he says them, but Blaine doesn't flinch from them.

But he does break eye contact. "Kurt."

"You know I don't like him."

"Yeah, you hardly make that a secret."

"And how do you feel about him, Blaine?"

"Mostly, I don't."

"Apparently you feel something."

Blaine shrugs. "It's... flattering that he likes me, I guess."

"It's creepy, Blaine. The way he is is creepy."

"I'll grant it's inappropriate," Blaine says. "But I don't think he means it that way. He probably thinks he's funny and charming."

"It's not," Kurt says, "Or are you actually charmed?"

"Kurt."

"Wait. You like him liking you."

"It. It's not that. Not entirely, anyway. I don't know, Kurt."

Kurt cocks his head and crawls up closer to Blaine. "Do you like him wanting you but not being able to have you?"

"Um?" Blaine shifts up against the pillows even farther, fidgeting with a fold in the sheets.

"Because," Kurt takes a breath and wonders if what he's going to say counts as pushing. It feels like pushing to him, fills him up with that same strange and primal pull as seeing Blaine's hands tied with Kurt's own scarf. "You're mine?"

Blaine's pupils balloon, crowding out the dark gold of his irises, and his breath hitches hard enough it comes out like a hiccup.

"Oh, okay," Kurt says, "I see." He's reeling with this new knowledge of Blaine, and what it may mean. He searches Blaine's face, which, despite the arousal, is also registering nervousness. They haven't been doing this very much this week, this thing Kurt's not sure how to name, where Blaine wants, almost needs, Kurt to push him. And Kurt has to figure out how. It still scares him as much as it rouses some sleepy, neglected desire within him. Kurt is also not sure he can do this when they're not truly alone. His closed door gives them time and privacy, but it's not absolute, and Kurt has to feel more secure than he presently does to be able to act freely with Blaine.

"Okay, baby," Kurt says, more softly, gently. "It's okay." Now isn't a good time to push, but he can at least provide comfort and satisfaction. He crawls up and rests his hands on Blaine's thighs, rubbing to soothe, then lowering his head to nuzzle and kiss the tender skin just above the crease of his thigh joint, up higher to his belly until the silken heat of Blaine erection brushes his cheek.

"Kurt, please," Blaine pleads, sinking both hands into Kurt's hair and tugging. "Come up here with me."

So Kurt doesn't take Blaine into his mouth, instead he keeps going, unbuttoning Blaine's shirt from the bottom and kissing his way up, over the trembling muscles of Blaine's belly, the unyielding hardness of his breastbone behind which Blaine's heart beats a forceful tattoo. At Blaine's neck Kurt pauses to suck at a spot just below the line of Blaine's collar: a promise for later, a reminder. Then he wraps one hand around Blaine's shaft, swiping back and forth over Blaine's cockhead with his thumb as he sucks to draw blood to the surface of Blaine's neck, feels the heat of it blossom beneath his tongue. He doesn't stop until Blaine gasps and flinches away from his mouth.

"Kurt," Blaine says in a scarce, broken whisper.

Kurt lifts his lips and tightens his fist. The bruise on Blaine's neck is much larger and darker than Kurt intended. He licks over the angry spot to soothe and drags his hand up Blaine's length. There's too much friction, and Blaine groans, almost too loudly. "Shh," Kurt hushes him, and then, "Friday," he murmurs against Blaine's neck, loosens his fist enough to slide back down to the root of Blaine's cock. Blaine arches into it. "Friday," Kurt repeats, "I'm coming over, and we'll have so much more time for this."

"You can..." Blaine swallows "You can stay the night?"

Kurt lifts his head so he can make eye contact. "Yes, my Dad said it would be okay, so long as we promise to stay in and not drink any alcohol."

Blaine gives Kurt a slack smile. "That shouldn't be..." Blaine arches into another slow stroke of Kurt's hand with a ragged gasp. "...too much trouble."

Kurt lets go of Blaine long enough to squeeze a dollop of lube into his palm. He wraps his hand back around Blaine, slick and cool. He says, "Right now, I just want you to come for me."

"Kiss me," Blaine says, and Kurt does. He kisses while he strokes Blaine's cock, until Blaine's moaning through his orgasm into Kurt's mouth, and Kurt is swallowing down the sound.

~*~

Kurt and Blaine plan to meet at The Lima Bean after school on Thursday. Blaine is heading home for dinner; his mother has been complaining she barely sees him anymore, since he's been spending so much time at Kurt's. Kurt was not invited, and that's fine. He can appreciate Blaine's family wanting some quality time.

Kurt arrives first, finding their usual table near the window and pulling out his phone to check in on his Twitter timeline. He goes straight to his list for the special election and scrolls through the day's tweets. Salazar's new ad hasn't run yet, for which Kurt is grateful, though he doubts Coach Sylvester will have any more luck getting him to hold it than he had asking Coach Sylvester to pull her ad. She only doubled down with the even nuttier Married to a Donkey ad.

If it weren't what it is—an election for Congress affecting people's lives in serious ways—it would be funny. It's not funny. And Kurt wonders, not for the first time, and he's sure not for the last, how adults seeking power can be so irresponsible. They don't deserve it. His Dad at least decided against running an attack ad, but Kurt is disappointed that it took Salazar's escalation to show his Dad just how wrong this kind of mud slinging is.

Kurt hasn't had a chance to talk to Santana; he's not even sure she would welcome anything he has to say. They're not really friends; allies sometimes, but not friends. Still, Kurt only hesitates a moment more before going to his contacts. He scrolls until he finds Santana Lopez and composes a text.

To Santana: "If you need to talk, I'm here. You can call me or text me anytime. I'll keep my phone on."

He taps 'send' just as a shadow falls across his table. "I'm so sorry you didn't make it to Scandals last night. It would have been such a treat to see you in your Sunday best," Sebastian says.

Kurt pockets his phone, schools his expression to haughty neutrality, and looks up. "Sebastian, what an unexpected pleasure. I'm sure you're just leaving. Don't let me keep you."

"Where's Blaine?"

"Why? Are you still having trouble finding your way around Dalton?"

The bell on the door jangles, drawing both of their attentions. And there's Blaine, his smile for Kurt twisting as he spots Sebastian.

"Hey, Sexy," Sebastian says to Blaine.

"Really?" Kurt mutters under his breath, but neither Blaine nor Sebastian hear him. They're looking at each other; Sebastian eagerly, Blaine warily. Kurt resists the urge to sigh.

"Hi, Sebastian," Blaine says.

"So, I was hoping to catch up with you," Sebastian says, "in the flesh."

He makes it sound so dirty. Kurt rolls his eyes at the table. Blaine sidles behind Kurt's chair, his hand brushing over Kurt's shoulders, to take the seat opposite the side of the table where Sebastian is standing.

"What did you want?" Blaine asks lightly, as if it's not obvious. He's looking at Kurt more than he's looking at Sebastian. Kurt rests his hand on Blaine's forearm and smiles at him. He has no idea what this is, but Sebastian seems oblivious to the tension, smiling his crocodile smile and pulling out the chair opposite Blaine to sit, uninvited.

They make awkward small talk about inane Warbler related things. Sebastian flirts, Blaine stammers and blushes, and Kurt grinds his teeth. He should go get the coffee, but he does not want to leave Blaine alone with this guy. Kurt still doesn't really know what to make of Blaine's feelings about Sebastian. But he knows what to make of his own. Sebastian is bad news, no matter how well Blaine may wish to think of him. The Dalton blazer isn't blinding Kurt to the danger. It worries Kurt, how trusting Blaine is. But Kurt, watching how differently Blaine responds to Sebastian in person versus in a text, can see there's a big difference between the idea of Sebastian and the reality of him for Blaine. Kurt also knows he doesn't want any of the reality of Sebastian near their relationship.

"So, hey," Sebastian says, "How about a movie tomorrow night? Thirteen just opened."

"I don't think so, Sebastian," Blaine says.

"You can bring your princess, if you want. Unless you think it would upset her delicate sensibilities."

"What?" Blaine says, but without emphasis, like he's honestly bewildered.

Kurt speaks up. "No, I'm afraid we have other plans already, Sebastian. I promised Blaine a very thorough makeover tomorrow night."

"Well, you guys do know how to have fun," Sebastian says, looking only at Blaine, as if Kurt's not even there. "Maybe some other time?"

"Sure," Blaine says, nodding absently and not quite meeting Sebastians's gaze.

Sebastian, mercifully, makes an excuse about Lacrosse practice and leaves.

"What the hell was that?" Kurt asks.

Blaine shakes his head. "He's just like that. He doesn't mean anything by it."

"He's calling you 'Sexy' now," Kurt says.

"He's just trying to make friends and fit in."

"The only place he wants to fit in is you, Blaine."

"Kurt, god, don't be crass. Or jealous."

"Jealous?" Kurt shakes his head and reaches to take Blaine's hand. "Blaine, honey, I am not jealous."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't trust him not to hurt you."

"Kurt, come on, he's a Dalton man, and a Warbler."

"I know how much that means to you, Blaine, but it may not mean that much to him. You're too quick to see the best in people sometimes."

"Maybe you're too quick to see the worst."

Kurt purses his lips. "I just don't want to ever be having to tell you 'I told you so' about him, Blaine. Just, be careful."

"Be careful?" Blaine asks, incredulous. "So, okay, he likes me, Kurt. What's wrong with that? Does it seem so unreasonable or dangerous for someone to like me?"

"No, god, no, Blaine. You're amazing. Everyone should love you." And that's when Kurt gets it, Sebastian's appeal to Blaine: he likes Blaine and Blaine hasn't had to do anything for it.

Blaine gives him a lopsided smile. "Don't worry about him, Kurt. He's just another Warbler. Like us."

Kurt nods and returns the smile, something sharp and unpleasant twisting in his chest as some things turn into focus. "Okay," Kurt says, but it's provisional. He thinks about what Blaine said about bad motivations and bad actions tainting even good goals. Surely loving Blaine is a good goal (if Sebastian is even capable of the emotion), but Sebastian isn't driven by anything pure, and Kurt realizes he has to let Blaine discover this for himself; he only hopes that knowledge doesn't come at too high a cost. But for now, letting Sebastian come between them in any way is giving that creep too much power, power Kurt will not allow him. "Let's get some coffee," Kurt says.

~*~

Friday night finds Blaine face down on his bed with Kurt straddling his thighs, pinning Blaine's wrists either side of him to the bed with his hands, and slowly licking the white spatters of his own semen from the dip of Blaine's lower back. Beneath Kurt, Blaine is hot, sweating, and squirming. Blaine's bedroom door is wide open and his stereo is cranked up, playing something electronic and slow, full of a heavy bass beat Kurt can feel in his balls even after his first orgasm of the evening. Kurt doesn't know the music, but he fully approves of Blaine's selection. It seems to have erased his refractory period, his cock is still hard, still craving. Or maybe it's just Blaine, so lost to his pleasure and vulnerable. He's resisting nothing, taking everything, and that's got Kurt feeling loose and uninhibited himself, like he's been drinking, except he's sober. It's just Blaine and sex and the music that's got him feeling so bold.

The lights are dimmed to just the bedside lamps, and Kurt is enjoying the play of the soft gold light over Blaine's body, the way he's gleaming with perspiration, highlighting and shading every sensuous movement.

"Kurt," Blaine mumbles, grinding down into his bedding. "Jesus."

Kurt's tongue has reached the top of the cleft of Blaine's ass. He pauses, panting, and releases Blaine's wrists. He's going to need both hands for this. And while he really doesn't want to lose the momentum he's been building up with Blaine, who hasn't come yet tonight, there's something very specific Kurt wants to do before they go any further. But it means getting up off the bed. One day, Kurt tells himself, he'll be able to plan their sexual encounters well enough that he's not caught in the middle of the event unprepared or out sequence. He presses a slow kiss to the base of Blaine's spine. "There's just one thing I need to do, baby, then I'm all yours."

Blaine whimpers his name and stills the movement of his hips.

Kurt presses one hand to Blaine's back as he swings his leg over, slides from the bed, and stands. "Don't move."

He planned this out in his head, and he thinks it will work. The mirror over Blaine's bureau can be moved so it's directly parallel to and opposite the bedside. He can shift Blaine's hamper and lean the mirror against the wall. If he turns it on its end, they'll be able to see themselves.

The mirror is heavier than expected, certainly awkward, and Kurt feels decidedly idiotic moving furniture in the buff. This is what comes from not planning ahead well enough. He got carried away too soon, pressing Blaine face first onto his bed and rutting mindlessly against Blaine's ass as soon as they'd got their clothes off.

"What on Earth are you doing?" Blaine asks, head turned toward Kurt.

Kurt gets the mirror where he wants it, determines it's not at risk of falling, and turns back to Blaine. "You're going to watch me fuck you," Kurt says and steps aside so Blaine can see his own reflection. "How's the angle? Can you see yourself okay?"

"Um, yeah, most of me," Blaine says.

"Excellent," Kurt says and gets back on the bed. At least he's already got the condoms and lube within easy reach. He folds one hand over Blaine's ass, his thumb brushing into his cleft, and tucks a knee between Blaine's. "Spread your legs for me, honey," he says. A glance toward the mirror verifies that, yes, Blaine can see them, at least enough of them for Kurt's purposes: faces to mid thighs. He smiles at Blaine's reflection.

Blaine parts his legs enough for Kurt to get both of his between, kneeling, but it's not what Kurt has in mind. "Farther, Blaine, as far as you can," he says, pressing against Blaine's thigh with his other hand, until Blaine is spread wide for him, and the sight of Blaine, so receptive, is kindling a hot flame of desire low in Kurt's belly. "Good boy," he says. "That's perfect."

"Kurt," Blaine pleads. "Whatever you're going to do—"

"Shh," Kurt says. "Relax and let me."

Blaine nods wordlessly, and Kurt moves, lets his knees skate out as he lowers himself to his elbows, hands upon Blaine's ass. He gently spreads Blaine's ass cheeks and lets his gaze travel down Blaine's cleft, lingering at the tight ring of his anus, before continuing down to the fullness of his balls. He blows a light stream of air, the same path as his gaze took, and sees how Blaine twitches, tighter and then more relaxed. Kurt resists swallowing, letting his saliva build up a little. He knows this is something Blaine wants, knows firsthand how incredible it's going to feel for Blaine, but he's still nervous. There's something about putting his mouth there: it's animalistic and primitive, but for all that baseness, Kurt can't think of anything more humanely intimate.

"I love you," he says, and it strikes Kurt as maybe a ridiculous thing to say when he's about to put his mouth on his boyfriend's ass, but it's true and this thing they're doing? That's what it's about.

He turns his face slightly toward the mirror and seeks Blaine's reflection. Blaine is looking back at him, unblinking, eyes dark, lips parted, his head pillowed upon his folded arms.

Blaine swallows and rubs his lips together. "I love you t—"

Kurt turns back and leans forward, licking a wet stripe from Blaine's balls all the way up to his tailbone.

"—oooh," Blaine finishes.

Kurt drags the tip of his tongue back down until he finds Blaine's entrance, tense and tender. He relaxes his tongue, spreads it wide and soft, presses closer to add his lips until he's kissing Blaine right there, slowly licking around and pressing in a little, working Blaine loose and looser.

"Kurt, god... Kurt, oh," Blaine whispers, his utterance nearly lost in the music.

The bass guides him. He moves with it, tempered and easy, pointing his tongue enough to push against Blaine's center, gradually delving deeper with each heavy throb of the bass. If his mouth weren't so busy, Kurt would tell Blaine to keep his eyes open, keep looking. But he himself doesn't need to look. Kurt is hyper aware of how Blaine's body is yielding itself up for him, can feel how much Blaine is craving this in the way he clings around Kurt's tongue, even as he surrenders to more and deeper and—now—harder pulses as Kurt transitions from kissing to fucking into Blaine with his tongue.

He wishes he could talk, to tell Blaine how amazing this is, but he's sure Blaine is feeling it too. So Kurt closes his eyes and relaxes into it, alternating between tender kisses and tongue-fucking until his tongue starts to ache with fatigue and Blaine has become impatient, pressing back and begging for more and faster and harder and more.

Kurt pulls back sluggishly, so saturated with taste and scent and sensation, he feels dizzy. "Blaine," he says when he finds his voice. He doesn't get much response, just a low whimper muffled against the bedding. Kurt understands it. He presses his lips to the soft flesh of Blaine's buttocks, pets Blaine's thighs and flanks to soothe Blaine's restlessness. He sits up, slides his hands down Blaine's thighs, coaxing him to bring them closer together, mindful of any stiffness the prolonged unnatural position may have caused Blaine; he steps his own knees to the side toward the center of the bed. "Baby, I'm going to fuck you now," Kurt says. "Can you roll back toward me, to your side, to face the mirror?"

While Blaine rearranges himself, moving like he's just woken up from a dream, Kurt unrolls a condom onto his cock. Then he spoons up behind Blaine, presses a kiss to his shoulder, and pushes his hand under Blaine's topmost leg. "Up," he says, tugging behind Blaine's knee until Blaine lifts and bends his leg, giving Kurt the space he needs. "Hold that there," he says, and Blaine does, holding his leg with his own hand. And then Kurt looks farther ahead, to the mirror, sees Blaine—sees them.

"Look, Blaine," he says, "look at yourself." He meets Blaine's heavy gaze in the reflection and lets his gaze travel down to Blaine's cock, which he's barely touched today. As much as he wants to feel its velvet weight in his hand, Kurt wonders if it's possible to make Blaine come without touching it. "You're so ready for it," Kurt says. "You loved my tongue in your ass."

"I did," Blaine whispers, his arousal is painted across his skin in sweat and flushed skin, his cock so dark and slick at the tip, his hair in damp coils sticking to his forehead and temples.

"You're going to look at yourself while I fuck you," Kurt says. "Don't close your eyes. I want you to look and know that it's me and you. I want you to see how much you love my cock inside you."

"Okay," Blaine nods, his gaze hazy in that way Kurt is beginning to understand comes when Blaine's getting lost in sensation. It's gratifying that Blaine trusts enough to let himself go like this. This is why Kurt knows he never has reason to feel jealous.

"Okay," Kurt says, and reaches for the lube. He smears it messily around Blaine's hole, pushing some inside with his fingers, but he doesn't linger; then he smooths plenty over his cock and moves to align himself with Blaine. He's not going to be able to move all that well, but he wants to at least start out this way, so Blaine can see as much as possible.

He grips Blaine's shoulder with the arm he's leaning on, and hooks his elbow under Blaine's knee to free Blaine's arm; he hikes Blaine's leg up higher making Blaine gasp. "Ready?" Kurt asks, planting one foot upon the bed for leverage.

Blaine nods and braces himself against the mattress with his freed arm.

Kurt pushes in, one slow, steady drive inside Blaine, into dazzling close heat. It's something Kurt is sure he'll never get used to. Being inside Blaine is always going to make him feeling like he's flipping himself inside out. Blaine groans, and Kurt sees in the mirror Blaine's eyelids fluttering closed.

"Open your eyes, baby," he says, and draws his hips back with agonizing sloth, loving the way Blaine's body grips him so tightly, the friction as he drags it out, and then reverses, pushing back through the resistance until he's swallowed up to his root in plush, searing bliss. He watches Blaine watch them beneath heavy eyelids, the way his gaze flicks across the surface of the mirror, meeting Kurt's gaze over his shoulder, lingering down between his legs where he can glimpse some of the movement of Kurt's cock into and out of him; Blaine can see how it ripples through his whole body, making his cock sway and his muscles flex each time he pushes back to meet Kurt's next instroke. "Such a spectacle," Kurt says. "God, look at you."

He changes the angle he's holding Blaine's leg, pulls it back to better expose Blaine to the mirror, to his own view. Blaine grunts and winces, but he makes no protest, instead relaxes into Kurt's hold. "You're going to feel this tomorrow," Kurt says. "I'll make sure of it."

"Kurt," Blaine mumbles, "Come on."

"And what, Blaine?" Kurt asks, keeping each stroke long and slow.

Blaine moans and tosses his head, but he doesn't look away.

"Tell me," Kurt says.

"You know," Blaine says.

"Maybe," Kurt says, his stomach clenching with his own building ache to go harder and faster. But he maintains control. "I want to hear you say it."

"Fine," Blaine grits out. "Fuck me. Jesus, just fuck me, Kurt."

That's enough that a fresh hot flash sparks deep in Kurt's gut; he next thrust he shoves in harder despite himself. "Isn't that what I'm doing?" he asks breathlessly. "Fucking you, Blaine?"

"Yes, but," Blaine says. He struggles to keep his eyes open as Kurt pushes in a little faster this time, too. "You know what I mean."

"Pretend I don't," Kurt says slowing once more, fucking into Blaine long and lazy, as if he isn't also growing desperate for it. He's not going to be able to maintain this façade of control much longer. He's burning up, his own want coiling into need. Still, he wants to drag this out for Blaine. Kurt bites down hard on his lip to stifle a groan, trapping it in his chest. When it passes, he says, "Tell me what you need, baby."

"You," Blaine says, and his eyes drift shut; Kurt doesn't interrupt him though. "Inside me, Kurt. Your cock. All of it, and hard. Harder. Filling me up, making me—" Blaine sighs, soft and open. "Making me..."

"Making you what?" This time Kurt's question is completely honest. He doesn't know how Blaine will finish that sentence.

Blaine opens his eyes, finds Kurt's in the mirror. "Yours."

"Mine," Kurt echoes, half dazed. It's something he's still grappling with. He's fine with thinking of Blaine as 'my best friend' or 'my boyfriend' or 'my lover' or even (as it becomes increasingly true) 'my partner', but 'mine' alone sounds so complete and uncompromising. But has he not felt the reciprocal of this? Minutes ago he declared himself 'all yours' to Blaine, and, as flippant and cliché as the phrase is, he meant it. Are they each others'? Do they belong?

"Mine," Kurt says more firmly, still testing the word with his brain and tongue. He releases Blaine's leg and rolls him forward onto his belly, lets all of his weight rest upon Blaine, but doesn't move his hips, just holds Blaine, full and pinned beneath him. "Are you?" he asks against the back of Blaine's neck.

"Yes, Kurt," Blaine says.

And of course they are, when it's like this? When they're stripped down to bare and basic desires together, and it feels like everything beautiful in existence is right here, between them? Of course they belong to each other. Maybe it's not the same outside these moments, but when it's here and now like this? "I'm yours, too, you know," Kurt says behind Blaine's ear, punctuating it with a soft kiss.

"Yeah," Blaine sighs, and he turns his head, blindly seeking Kurt's lips.

Kurt meets Blaine's kiss, and it's messy and uncoordinated with plenty of tongue and hot breath carrying Blaine's desperate whimpers. He grinds his cock into Blaine's ass, not quite fucking, but a swivel and hard press, emphasizing his presence and their connection. Kurt tangles the fingers of one hand into Blaine's sweat damp curls, tugs at Blaine's shoulder with his other hand, and tries to fit their mouths together more perfectly. Tries to bring them as close as he possibly can in this moment. But it's not enough, and Blaine is squirming helplessly beneath his weight and sighing soft pleas into Kurt's mouth.

"Blaine," Kurt says, relenting at the sweetness of Blaine's entreaty. "Can you...get up?" It's tricky to get Blaine up onto his hands and knees without slipping free, but Kurt keeps close, making it more awkward that it needs to be, until Blaine is on all fours and Kurt is behind him admiring the broad, strong lines of Blaine's back tapering down to his slim waist and hips, culminating in his perfect ass; and rocking short, deep thrusts into him.

"That's good," Blaine says, "Kurt. More."

Kurt puts his hands on Blaine's buttocks, presses them apart so he can better see how Blaine is stretched open around him, can see his cock pistoning in and out. He adds more force and speed, but keeps his strokes short and tight.

The way Blaine hisses out a "Yes, fuck, yes," tells Kurt enough. It's good.

"Wish you could see this," Kurt says, quickening the sharp snap of his hips, "The way you take me. It's so perfect."

"Kurt." Blaine shudders, drops his head, and pushes back against Kurt's hips, meeting him stroke for stroke. The extra force of it scorches through Kurt.

"Want you to see more," Kurt says. He holds Blaine tightly by the hips to guide him, gets him to turn with him, toward the mirror, then he slides one hand up to Blaine's shoulder, brings the other around his waist. He tugs. "Sit up," he says, and sits back on his heels as Blaine straightens, arching against Kurt and settling his weight back into Kurt's lap.

"I don't know if this will work," Kurt confesses as he leans back a little for balance and firms his hold on Blaine, one hand splayed low upon his belly, the other he moves under Blaine's arm, stretching across his chest, laying his hand over Blaine's heart. He can only roll his hips shallowly.

"Worth a try," Blaine says, placing his hands over Kurt's and starting to move with him, lifting up so Kurt can lengthen his thrusts. But it's not quite.

"Wait," Kurt says, and lets go of Blaine's chest, drops one arm back to brace himself so he can lean back farther to gain more leverage. His other hand slips to Blaine's hip. He holds on tightly. "Okay?"

"Okay," Blaine says holding himself up on trembling thighs, and Kurt tilts his head so he can see past Blaine to the mirror. Catches his own eyes before letting his gaze rove across Blaine, so unselfconsciously displayed and framed in the mirror, like erotic art.

"You can touch yourself," Kurt says, "if you need to."

Kurt can't push in quite as deep, but the angle seems right. As soon as Kurt starts moving again, arching his hips up hard, Blaine is swearing. Blaine can just reach his headboard, so he extends one arm out using his fingertips to help keep his balance, with his other hand, he holds onto his cock, making a tight fist around his cockhead, stroking short and fast. "Don't stop, Kurt."

Kurt doesn't. He let's go, fucking up into Blaine with all he's got while Blaine meets every fierce shove with the strength and grace Kurt never tires of. And it's demanding and sweaty and his muscles are burning with the effort, but it's also magnificent. Blaine lasts longer than Kurt expects him to, and that is glorious, drawing this part out. They're definitely getting better at this. Kurt wants to be able to fuck Blaine for hours someday, but for now he's happy with anything lasting longer than ten minutes. And it lasts, so that when Blaine starts to falter, slipping into his climax, Kurt is only too ready to follow along, letting the clench of Blaine's ass wring his orgasm from him. It's the closest they've got to coming together.

Kurt's elbow gives out and he falls back, arched awkwardly, his quads pulled taut and sharp. He's going to be feeling this one tomorrow too, just as much as Blaine. Blaine carefully pulls off him, and falls down beside him. "Oof," he says, rubbing at his stomach, carelessly smearing his come across what Kurt surmises are very tired abdominal muscles.

"Yeah," Kurt agrees, rolling a little toward Blaine so he can straighten his legs. They're half numb and achey. When the bloodflow starts to return, they prickle and burn. "Fucking ow."

"Totally worth it," Blaine says between deep breaths, reaching a heavy hand to cup Kurt's cheek. He rolls over and kisses him softly, just lips, relaxed and easy.

Kurt chuckles when Blaine eases from his mouth, trailing gentle kisses along Kurt's jaw toward his earlobe. "I was planning on going for a second round, but I'm not sure that's realistic," Kurt says.

Blaine shrugs, dragging his lips down Kurt's neck. "We have all night," he says.

And it's true, they do.

end Part III