Kurt opens his eyes to a sun-saturated room, to the feeling of a plush set of sheets and a warm arm over his bare chest. He lets his breathing stay even, slow, closes his eyes and focuses on the deep pulls of Blaine's, the warmth of those exhales on the skin of his neck. He shivers, wriggles his toes happily under the sheets, and smiles.

He's never woken up next to someone before. He's never woken up naked next to someone before, and as he shifts his ass gives a twinge of pain that makes him blush and giggle and hide his face in the duvet. He's waking up next to his boyfriend, whom he told he loved last night and had asked to make love to him, which sounds admittedly cheesy now in the light of day but still feels so right that Kurt doesn't regret it, doesn't regret anything, at all.

He stares up at the high, vaulted ceiling, listens to the faint thrum of traffic stories and stories below them. There's no ticking of a clock, nothing except the sound of Kurt's heartbeat and his own breathing as he gradually wakes up little by little.

Blaine's arm is heavy and solid over his chest, and Kurt loosens a hand from the sheets to run his fingers over soft skin and dark hair, feeling the faint tremble as Blaine sighs, gooseflesh erupting in the wake of Kurt's fingers. He's never really had the opportunity to admire Blaine the way Blaine should be admired, his juxtaposed youthfulness and worldliness.

Beside him Blaine snuffles, shifting restlessly as he sighs and moves closer, the slide of his leg against Kurt's shocking and amazing. Kurt turns, the pillowcase rustling under his ear, and looks. Blaine in repose is almost more beautiful than Blaine awake and alert: Kurt can just see the shift of Blaine's mouth, the slight crease of his brow; his lashes are thick, dark where they fan over his cheekbones, and his lips are slightly parted, face completely slackened. Then, there's the back-forth of his eyes behind his lids as Blaine slowly opens them, bleary and sleepy, as he nuzzles into the pillow before finally allowing himself to wake. But as soon as he blinks and his gaze focuses, his lips stretch into a smile that's one part happy, two parts disbelieving.

His arm tightens around Kurt, and his voice is sleep-thickly husky when he says, "Good morning."

Kurt reaches up, brushes back a lock of curly hair, and says, "Good morning." Blaine loosens his arm, and Kurt rolls over, runs a hand down Blaine's bare shoulder where the duvet is pulled away. His skin is warm and soft, and Kurt flushes when he remembers grabbing onto it last night, digging in and holding on like he'd be swept away if he didn't. At the hollow of Blaine's throat, the shadowed little crevice, there's a faintly purple-red mark, and Kurt touches it, astonished, and asks, "Did I...did I do that?"

Blaine just smiles, nods, and reaches out to touch the soft, temptingly pale curve of Kurt's shoulder glowing in the morning light, and the skin is tender where one of Blaine's fingertips press; a little jolt runs through Kurt as he realizes why.

Blaine leans in, eyes searching, silently asking, and Kurt immediately complies, leaning forward, nudging their noses together before pressing his lips to Blaine's, slow and soft and closed. He rests his palm on the side of Blaine's face, and Blaine's hand drops to the curve of his hip under the blankets.

"God, I love you," Blaine murmurs, kissing Kurt's cheek, then the line of his jaw. Kurt's eyes flutter, and he tips his head back slightly as his heart begins to quicken. "You're so beautiful."

Kurt smiles, bites his lip and grabs Blaine's hand from his side, twines their fingers together and stares down at them. "I've never woken up next to anyone before."

"Mmm." Blaine sounds thoughtful as he sits up, the covers falling to his waist. "Do you have anywhere you need to be today?"

Kurt shakes his head, and Blaine beams, crinkling his eyes and deepening the lines at his mouth. "Awesome! I'll just hop in the shower real quick, then it's all yours, okay, sweetie?" Blaine kisses Kurt's nose, then pulls back the covers and stands up. Kurt feels his jaw drop as Blaine turns his back and lifts his arms over his head as he stretches, muscles rippling under his skin as he shakes out the night's kinks. Kurt's eyes slowly roam down, face getting hotter and hotter as he follows the dip of Blaine's back, the firm, bare curve of his ass, the strong, toned muscles of his thighs.

Blaine bends to grab his discarded clothes from the floor, and Kurt quickly looks away, coughing nervously. He knows, rationally, that he should look, that it's more than okay, but Kurt feels like he's invading and, well—this is why he's never had a relationship before.

Blaine disappears into the bathroom, and as soon as the water sputters on Kurt hears a familiar buzzing coming from the floor. His eyes widen as he remembers that he hadn't told Rachel where he was going last night, and he scrambles to answer it, nearly falling to the floor as he gets tangled in the sheets. He finds his underwear next to his jeans and tugs them on, hurriedly swiping his thumb across his phone to answer it, breathing out, "Hello?" as he sits back on the bed. He slides his shirt on as an afterthought.

"Kurt! Where are you? I was worried sick all night, and you never answered your phone—"

"Rachel, shh," Kurt hisses, looking toward the closed door of the en suite bathroom, where the faint thrum of the shower can still be heard. "I'm not dead. I'm okay. I'm still at Blaine's."

"Still at—Kurt, are you telling me...?"

"Shrill, Rachel!" Kurt snaps, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"But you...oh my god, Kurt, why didn't you tell me you went to Blaine's?"

"Because I knew you'd act like this if I did," Kurt says sharply, but the heat is half-hearted at best. Rachel means well, and she does have the right to know if he's not going to be home, but Kurt's still mad at her for telling Finn, so he figures that, as punishments go, this was an easy one.

"Be honest," Rachel says suddenly. "...Did you two have sex last night?"

Kurt flushes scarlet, pays sudden attention to the thread patterns on the duvet. From the bathroom the water clicks off, and Kurt can hear faint rustling as Blaine steps out, wet and dripping and flushed—Kurt swallows, hard, and closes his eyes. "Um. Maybe?"

"KURT!"

"I'm hanging up now," Kurt says quickly, ending the call and tossing his phone on the bed as he sneaks out of Blaine's room and heads downstairs to the kitchen. The appliances gleam invitingly, and Kurt opens Blaine's fridge, nods in approval at the stock of fresh, organic, and whole-grain foods on the shelves. A cabinet by the stove reveals pans, and a drawer to the right has utensils. Kurt grabs a carton of eggs and a spatula, turning on the stove to warm it up before cracking a few eggs into the pan and watching them sizzle.

He's busy wondering what else he should make, if it's weird to take over your boyfriend's kitchen the first morning you sleep over, and doesn't hear Blaine come down the stairs; when a pair of arms wraps their way around his waist he gasps, starts, and relaxes only when Blaine's hot huff of laughter ghosts across his neck.

"I see you've made yourself at home," Blaine teases. Kurt's hand comes up to his abdomen to rest over Blaine's, and he lets Blaine slowly lift up his arm as he stirs the eggs. On his wrist is the cuff, and Blaine's fingers trace over it with the reverence one usually sees reserved for historic relics. "You're still wearing it," he adds, soft.

Kurt twists, smiles: he smiles at Blaine's loose, slightly-fluffy hair; his glasses; the awed, in-love look to his eyes and the laugh lines deep in his cheeks that Kurt wants to kiss, to touch, over and over and over. "Of course I'm still wearing it," he says; then, softer as he turns fully into Blaine's embrace, cupping Blaine's cheek with the hand with the cuff, "I love you."

Blaine kisses him, and his lips slide easy over Kurt's, slick and minty with toothpaste, and Kurt remembers how they'd slid easily over his skin last night, making him feel in ways he'd never felt before. Blaine's hands fall to his waist, heavy and binding, and Kurt loops his arms around Blaine's neck, presses close, closer.

"Maybe we should turn off the stove," Blaine whispers, pulling back. "I think the eggs are done."

"Right," Kurt breathes, dizzy and unfocused, and he fumbles to turn off the gas. All he can see, all he can feel, is Blaine. "Um. Plates. And forks. And...other stuff."

Blaine grins, carding a hand through Kurt's hair where Kurt knows it's wild and sticking up. "I like coffee," Blaine says, already heading up to the coffeemaker at the apex of the sleek granite counter. "What about you?"

"Um, coffee is good," Kurt replies, looking at the cabinets, and he feels a warm surge of affection when Blaine wordlessly opens up a cabinet next to him, where there are stacked plates, white and china and delicate. He grabs two, carefully, and gets two forks from the drawer.

It's so...domestic that Kurt can't really believe that it's actually happening. There's silence, but it's amicable, not awkward to tensed or stretched. The coffee sputters as it brews, filling the kitchen with its warm, earthy scent, and Blaine kisses the top of his head as he passes by the get the creamer from the fridge and a mug from the cabinet, setting one down on the counter for Kurt. "It'll still be a minute for the coffee. I hope you don't mind," Blaine says, and Kurt really doesn't.

Blaine's hair is still damp from the shower, loose and curly where it falls around his forehead, and he'd thrown on a loose long-sleeved shirt over comfortable-looking jeans. He looks utterly kissable, and Kurt says, without thinking as he holds up a plate, "How much do you want, B?"

Blaine, who has his reading glasses half-raised to his face as he holds his iPad with the other hand, looks up, and Kurt looks back, blinking in shock at the sudden nickname. He's never been one for them, but Blaine's always calling him 'honey' and 'sweetie' and 'darling,' and it's starting to rub off on him.

There's a knowing, teasing grin at the corner of Blaine's mouth, and he slips his reading glasses on, keeping them low on his nose, and Kurt swallows at the sight, at how mature it makes Blaine look. "Just give me a few spoonfuls, darling, but you know I could've gotten it myself."

Kurt shakes his head, loading up Blaine's plate, then his own, and carrying them to the table. "It's the least I could do," he says as he sits down. "You let me stay over, and, well." He stops, reaches across, and Blaine's immediately setting his iPad down and taking Kurt's hand. He rubs his thumb over Kurt's knuckles, soothing back-forth, and Kurt watches the motion for a moment before saying, "You made my first time really, really special. It's the least I could do."

Blaine's smile is fond, sweet, and behind them the coffeemaker comes to a halt. "That's how everyone's first time should be," he says. "You should never regret anything."

Kurt shakes his head. "I don't. I could never."

Blaine gets up and comes back with two mugs filled with coffee. Kurt takes the creamer first, pouring it in and watching black swirl to brown, watches as the steam rises up, then evaporates. His hand feels empty without Blaine's in it.

"So was I...you know, good?" Kurt asks suddenly, throat tight with nervousness. It's a dumb question to ask, and Kurt knows that he shouldn't be worried, but he's insecure still, afraid that he's just going to be that passing fancy, that mid-life crisis moment.

Blaine looks up, fork lifted halfway to his mouth, and he furrows his brow, sets it and his iPad back down. He pushes his glasses up his nose, and Kurt tries not to swoon. "At what?"

Kurt flushes, shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth to give him something to do; chew, swallow, and say, "...Sex."

Blaine's laugh is sudden and loud and booming where it echoes in the openness of his apartment. Kurt crosses his arms, pouts, and refuses to look until Blaine's reaching across the table, grabbing at him and saying, "Kurt. Kurt, look at me."

Kurt does, and Blaine's serious, wide-eyed with his brows knitted close. A stray lock of gray-black hair tumbles over his forehead, and Kurt aches to brush it away. "You were the best I've ever had. I promise," Blaine says sincerely.

A thrill runs up Kurt's spine, an odd sense of accomplishment, but he still doesn't allow himself to completely believe it. Blaine's probably just being polite, but he knows he can get better. That's what practice is for, right? Last night they had been practicing, and now Kurt's definitely...more than ready to practice again. "You're lying. It's okay; I know I was a virgin—"

"No, no, no, Kurt." Blaine takes Kurt's hand, twines their fingers together, and leans forward. Kurt takes note of the freckles on Blaine's nose, his day-old stubble. "It was the best I've ever had because it was with someone that I truly love. I've never done that before."

"You had—" Kurt begins.

Blaine cuts him off before he can finish, shaking his head. "I've never had sex that's made me feel like that before. That's made me want more like you have."

Kurt bites his lip to hide his smile as he looks down at his lap, the gleaming white table top, their hands. "You really...want more? Because of me?"

"I'm always going to want more of you. I think it's becoming a problem, truthfully," Blaine says lightly, smiling; Kurt's heat races, flips, and he bites back his squeal as he looks up at the ceiling, grinning stupidly.

Kurt's boyfriend just told him that he wants more, will always want more, and Kurt isn't sure he's ever been this happy, this unafraid of what the future will hold for him. He's comfortable to live in the moment, to love and be loved as much as he can. "I love you."

Blaine leans across the table, and Kurt meets him halfway, melts into a kiss that tastes of coffee and egg and a faint bite of minty toothpaste. Blaine's tongue is slick where it slides across Kurt's lips, and Kurt lets out a moan, grabs the back of Blaine's head as he switches angles and nips at Blaine's lower lip.

When they part Blaine's voice is breathy as he says, "You made me see the good in the world again, Kurt. When you've been around for as long as I have, you begin to give up. But you changed my mind. I'm...god; I'm really falling so hard for you."

And, suddenly, eating seems trivial, and Kurt's earlier wishes for a shower fall under that exact same category. He pulls back and looks at Blaine, calls to mind images from last night, sweaty and tangled and filthy. He leans forward again, and though the edge of the table digs into his abdomen he kisses Blaine deep, tongue slick where it slides between Blaine's lips, and between kisses, hungry and desperate and gravelly-voiced, he says, "I want you."

Adds, "Now, B, please."

Blaine, wide-eyed, astonished, pulls back, red lips and flushed cheeks, mussed hair from Kurt's insistently tugging fingers, and gasps out, "Fuck, Kurt, warn an old man next time."

Kurt just smirks, feeling bold despite the flaming blush he feels heating his cheeks, and doesn't try and suppress the shiver he feels go down his spine at Blaine's words. "We don't have anywhere to go today," Kurt says, pointedly emphasizing, and he watches Blaine break little by little.

He is still nervous, of course, but it's with Blaine, who made him feel so safe, so secure and perfect and loved last night, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want more, too. They have a whole apartment, an entire day, and a semi-foreign body to explore.

It turns out Blaine's easily won, and his hair, freshly-washed and silky, feels amazing being tugged by Kurt's fingers.