Blaine almost did it that afternoon.

It was a few weeks after the incident at the restaurant. Kurt and he had been eating some Chinese takeout, settled on his bed with his laptop to catch up on their shows on Netflix. At some point, however, he had stopped paying attention to what he was supposed to be watching and instead started staring at Kurt, stared at his expressive eyes that conveyed every bit of emotion he felt as he watched the events on the screen, stared at the graceful slope of his nose, his pink lips curving up in a smile when something funny happened, turning down at the corners when something displeased or confused him, at his creamy shoulders, exposed by the fashionable sweater he was wearing.

And then he had almost blurted what he'd never meant to say, at least not that way. He almost didn't care that he had plans of how he'd say those words, and that none of the scenarios he ever imagined would remotely resemble reality. He felt about ready to explode with the weight of the feeling in his chest, with the way it throbbed and made him tingle all the way to his fingertips and toes, made him want to reach out and touch, touch, take, and most importantly, turn. Turn himself in, confess all his crimes and all his desires and give himself to someone; well, no, not just someone – him. Kurt.

But then Kurt had turned his head towards him, looked at him with that bubblegum smile, and asked, “God, can you believe that actual scriptwriters came up with a storyline like that and thought ‘yes wow that's great, let's do that'? I swear, maybe I'm going into the wrong business if it's that easy to break into TV.”

So now Blaine was laughing, because what Kurt said was true, but also to cover up the emotional turmoil inside of him; and it helped, because he was desperate to control himself and not do anything stupid, like lean over and just kiss Kurt. Kurt deserved to be courted and wooed and have every single one of his romantic fantasies fulfilled.

“Elliott invited me to this karaoke party tonight,” Kurt suddenly blurted, and was it Blaine's imagination or did his cheeks turn slightly pink at the admission?

“Yeah? Well, that's probably going to be fun, don't you think?”

Kurt nodded and hummed his agreement, suddenly incredibly shy, reminiscent of the days when their friendship had still been in its blossoming stages. He was drilling holes in the comforter with the intensity of his gaze, before he turned it back up and focused it on Blaine instead. The curly-haired man's breath hitched a bit at the sight.

“Would be more fun if you tagged along…”

“Yeah?” Blaine gulped, but he wasn't sure if it was noticeable enough for Kurt to realize.

“Yeah… I mean… For you, too. I could be your wingman,” the teen attempted to joke over the tension in his voice. In turn, Blaine laid his hands on his shoulders, stroking over the milky skin.

“Kurt… I don't need a wingman.”

“You do well enough on your own, I know. I just thought I'd offer my services.”

Without thinking, Blaine gently took a hold of Kurt's face, just moved a hand from his shoulder to his cheek, as he kept their eyes locked. He wasn't pushed away, so he kept it there even when he did become aware of what he was doing.

“No…” A deep breath, preparation indicative of the plunge Blaine was about to take. “I don't need a wingman because I don't want or need another meaningless one-night-stand, not anymore. I haven't wanted to get in bed with anyone since the second I laid eyes on you.”

Kurt's eyes were sparkling, his lips slightly parted as he inhaled a shallow, tiny gasp. His gaze kept darting from Blaine's eyes to his lips and back again, only to resume the dance all over, and his hand came up to cover Blaine's on his cheek.

And then, just as he was about to lean in and finally taste those candy lips, a loud knock sounded on the door.

“Kurt! Kurt, open up, I have found the best song ever for us to sing tonight, and we need to practice it because there's always music majors around to criticize everyone who takes the stage! And it'll be perfect to get Blaine to–“

In two quick strides, Kurt had crossed the entirety of the tiny dorm room and ripped open the door. Blaine imagined his face probably looked downright terrifying as he positively growled a, “what?” from between clenched teeth. The senior waved at Elliott, who looked flabbergasted at the sight of him casually reclining on the bed, the sheets obviously rumpled and showing dents where Kurt had been lying next to him.

“Sorry,” Elliott mumbled and backed away with his hands up by his shoulders. “So sorry, pretend I was never here.”

Kurt sighed and cast Blaine a questioning look over his shoulder; at his nod, he opened the door further. “No, come in. We were just catching up on some shows.”

Elliott made to protest, but one look at Kurt's face and he shut his mouth and nodded before entering the room. He gave Blaine, who was moving up the bed to sit against the headboard, a tentative smile, and he returned it, even if it didn't completely reach his eyes. Kurt settled on one of the two chairs in the room and gestured for his tattooed friend to take a seat, and Elliott chose the one next to Blaine with wide, apologetic eyes.

The air around them was strained as they sat in silence and pretended to watch the events unfolding on the laptop screen, until finally, Blaine couldn't take it anymore and stood.

“I have some homework to get done, and I should probably get ready for tonight, too. You cool with me tagging along?” he directed his question at Elliott and got an overly enthusiastic nod in response. Kurt smiled softly.

“Meet us here at around 8:30 for the pre-gaming, okay?”

Blaine agreed and left, proud of himself for waiting until he had successfully shut the door behind him before doing his, by now nearly patented, flailing victory dance.

He was aware it hadn't been perfect, but he also knew now that Kurt was not as indifferent to him as it may seem, knew they'd have kissed if they hadn't been interrupted, and he considered that a huge win.

. . .

They were drunk. All three of them, as well as the people around them, they were all spectacularly, still pleasantly, not yet teetering on the edge of vomiting, drunk – except for that one guy in the corner, who had passed out and whose pants had a stain on the front suggesting something much more awful and embarrassing than throwing up had happened to him.

They met a few of Elliott's and Kurt's friends at the party, and Blaine was currently being bothered by a Latina chick by the name of Santana, who had apparently attended high school with Kurt. Blaine had heard a few of the stories, and he was well-aware why Santana seemed to have taken a special interest in his background, specifically with other guys, as well as distinctly grateful for it, but it was still somewhat grating. He had come to have a good time. Besides, it wasn't like Kurt had given any indication about what may or may not have happened earlier in his room all night; he'd stayed away from Blaine, deliberately sat at the other end of their table, and barely made eye contact as he seemed to have the fucking time of his life. Blaine was beginning to think he'd made up the whole thing in his head.

He smiled in relief when Santana's girlfriend, Dani, came to whisk her away to the makeshift dancefloor, hearing her yell over the sounds of someone butchering “Bohemian Rhapsody” that, “Elliott already checked him out, okay? Kurt's good, don't worry.”

Blaine, in his hazy state of mind, was still figuring out what she could have possibly meant when Kurt appeared at his side, nursing what looked like some fruity cocktail, his lips wrapped around the straw, and how was that so fucking enticing that Blaine had to conjure up images of his grandmother knitting to fight the growing tightness of his pants?

“I'm up next,” he spoke right next to his ear; Blaine tried his best to suppress the shiver threatening to run down his spine.

“You'll kill this thing.” There. Encouragement. That was what Kurt was probably after.

The boy in question smirked at him, his face concealing some mystery Blaine obviously wasn't in on as he sauntered away, his hips swaying, drawing attention to the sweet curve of his ass in those skintight jeans and shit. Grandma. Grandma. Grandma running around topless at the last Anderson pool party slash barbecue slash let's compare our achievements thing. Fuckity fuck fuck. No, don't think of fucking, he admonished himself and hid his face in his hands as he groaned in frustration.

“Next up, Kurt Hummel and Elliott Gilbert with ‘Undisclosed Desires' by Muse!”

The crowd whooped and cheered as the two of them took the stage, Elliott grinning confidently at Kurt and nudging him as he whispered something in his ear while the first few bars of the song played.

Elliott ended up taking the first verse, and Blaine caught a few girls half-jokingly fanning themselves as he played the crowd, but his eyes kept darting back to Kurt as he provided the occasional line as back-up.

Then, the second verse started up and Kurt took the mic, stepping into the spotlight and immediately locking eyes with Blaine. His hips swiveled minutely as he danced across the stage in lithe movements, his voice rougher and lower than usual as he looked at Blaine, his gaze unwavering.

“You may be a sinner
But your innocence is mine…”

He was practically purring the song, his eyes half-lidded as he begged Blaine to “please me, show me how it's done,” and someone elbowed Blaine and hissed something about drool to him, but he barely registered anything but the beautiful boy up on that stage as he and Elliott took the chorus again. Kurt's voice caressed his skin, enveloped him in a fog of need and desire as he watched him do something that wasn't really dancing anymore, something he could maybe only describe as crawling seductively while standing upright. He was so far gone, so fixated on Kurt and on returning his hot stare, that it didn't even occur to him to be jealous of the other man singing with him.

By the time they had finished, Blaine was hard, desperate, and sweating, the curls on his forehead and in the nape of his neck frizzing slightly with it. Kurt bounced over to their table to applause and hoots from the crowd, while Elliott had disappeared to… somewhere. Blaine couldn't honestly say that he cared.

“Did you like it?” Kurt asked, breathless and with dark eyes, spots of color high on his cheeks, no doubt there because of the alcohol and the heat of the room and that damn ‘dancing' he'd just done.

Blaine gulped and couldn't do anything but nod, his fists clenched in his lap, both as a reminder to himself that he couldn't just grab the boy and strip him naked there and then and to cover up the obvious erection tenting his pants. Kurt looked down briefly, and when their eyes met once more, that fucking smirk had taken over his features, the one which made Blaine want to sing odes to the gods for creating a creature as beautiful as the boy currently leaning forward, no doubt to be heard over the noise of the unlucky amateur following Kurt (and Elliott's) mind-blowing performance.

“Let's dance,” Kurt shouted at the same time Blaine said, “I need to get out of here.”

Kurt's face fell a bit, and Blaine wanted to kick himself in the nuts for it, but he really, really doubted that he'd be able to handle dancing with Kurt in his current state. Also, he was sure that Kurt was aware of his little, or, well, big situation, and could not fathom what would possess him to ask him to dance in that moment. He was a dude. He should get it.

“Okay,” the teen sighed and, looking around a bit and seemingly catching someone's eye for a moment, he added, “I'll come with you. I don't think Elliott is going back to his room tonight,” he nodded towards the man, currently grinding with another guy, “and I don't wanna walk home alone. If that's okay with you?”

Blaine mumbled his agreement and they both went the rounds to say goodbye to their table. Santana and Kurt had some hissed conversation, both wearing glares that would probably make an army of assassins cower and flee. Kurt threw up his hands at some point and said something else to her Blaine couldn't make out before joining him and tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Can we leave now? Please?”

Blaine gave a last wave to the group of people, thinking to himself that he'd be lucky if he remembered a single name in the morning, and led Kurt outside. The teen didn't let go of his elbow, and Blaine could feel it tingling from the touch. His hard-on had died down a bit but he was sure that if Kurt's fingers continued to trail lines of fire over his arm through the thin layer of his shirt, it would soon be revived.

Suddenly, Kurt let go and jumped up on a narrow, short wall rising on the curb beside them. He tried to keep his balance as he walked along the path it created and kept stumbling, shrieks of his laughter echoing around them in the night, making Blaine himself grin. He was only slightly tipsy by this point, and recognized what Kurt was doing was probably a bit dangerous, so he held out his hand in an offer of support.

“C'mon, I don't want you keeling over and hitting your head and dying,” he clarified when Kurt just looked at it suspiciously. Seemingly mollified, he took a hold of it, and let Blaine help stabilize him.

He didn't pull away once the stretch of wall had ended and he was back on even ground.

He even tightened his grip as he let them swing between them.

Although Blaine was dying to inquire after the meaning of this gesture, no words were spoken between them until they were outside Blaine's dorm room. The curly-haired senior made to finally disengage their hands, causing Kurt to stiffen and thus, Blaine to reconsider the action. The teen looked down at their hands and back up at Blaine's face, biting his lip contemplatively and then suddenly, moving in, so close their chests were touching.

“Would you dance with me now?” he breathed, peering into Blaine's eyes with his own stormy gray ones.

Blaine swallowed, hard, closing his own eyes to escape the force of Kurt's stare.

“Shouldn't you go to bed?” he whispered, unconsciously leaning into the touch of arms enveloping him without a warning, hands stroking at the base of his spine and the back of his head.

“Open your eyes, Blaine,” Kurt mumbled instead of answering his question, and Blaine complied, coming face to face with a smatter of freckles across the bridge of a nose, and long lashes encasing a pair of stunning eyes swirling with color.

His breath hitched at the sight, at the feeling of hot puffs of air against his lips and nose as Kurt came closer still, their mouths only separated by a hairbreadth.

And the time for thinking rationally, for all his laid-out plans, might come, but it wasn't now; it wasn't this moment, when he leaned forward to close the space between them and finally slanted his lips over Kurt's plump pink ones.

It was hesitant at first, just a small press, Blaine's right hand unconsciously finding Kurt's cheek to hold him there as the teen himself wrapped both his arms around his neck. Their mouths moved tentatively against each other until, with a deep inhale, Blaine caught the beautiful boy's bottom lip between his and started to gently suckle on the sensitive flesh. Kurt moaned, his fingers twisting in Blaine's hair and tugging at the curls, his tongue cautiously peeking out to lick at the seam of Blaine's lips.

Blaine reacted by growling low in his throat and grabbing Kurt by the hips to force him back against the wall. Their lips momentarily disconnected, and Kurt smirked, making him emit a strangled sound before he pushed himself against him, trapping him between the wall and his body. On his next dive in, he didn't hesitate to plunge his tongue into his mouth, licking at the ridge behind his teeth before tangling it with Kurt's. Swallowing Kurt's moan, his grasp on his hips tightened as he thrust his own forward, the prominent bulge in his pants meeting Kurt's and making them both groan out loud again. The teen's hands helplessly grappled over Blaine's back, clenching and unclenching in his shirt as he searched for something to hold onto, their tongues and lips dancing, his taste, tainted by the alcohol on his breath but still so delicious, overtaking Blaine's senses and pumping more blood into his groin.

He was just removing his lips from Kurt's to latch onto the skin of his neck when a loud crash echoed from around the corner of the hallway, followed by a hissed curse.

It wasn't much; they both barely glanced the way the noise had come before they heard a door shut, indicating the perpetrator had retired to his room, but it was enough to shock Blaine out of his lust-induced haze. He looked back at Kurt, took in his kiss-swollen lips and the dark blush on his cheeks, and barely managed to take the necessary step backwards to give himself some space to think again.

Kurt, in turn, just stared, his face unfathomable as he stepped to the side and enlarged the distance between them. Blaine didn't know what he'd done wrong, but he was sure he had somehow fucked up royally. He started nibbling on his lip anxiously as Kurt made his way to his room.

“Good night, Blaine,” he spoke softly as Blaine copied him, opening up his own door while Kurt was still standing with his hand on the knob of his.

“Good night, Kurt,” he mumbled in response and shut the door softly behind him. With a long-suffering sigh, he let his head thump back against the knock-off wood, just resting it there for a moment as he tried to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. When he realized, a few moments later, that that wasn't going to happen, he went into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

It was only when he came out, freshly showered, shirtless with his hair still sopping and his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, that he realized someone was knocking insistently on his door. He had a pretty good idea of who was on the other side, and sure enough, when he flung it open, Kurt was standing there, nervously wringing his hands.

“I lost my key. Or maybe forgot it in my room. I'm not sure,” he mumbled, not looking up at Blaine. “Could I, uh, maybe stay here tonight, until I can call maintenance in the morning?”

Blaine wordlessly stepped to the side, waving his hand in invitation, and Kurt walked inside, still mumbling as he thanked Blaine. The tension between them was palpable, making the awkwardness nearly unbearable as the senior gave the younger boy a pair of sweatpants, a shirt, as well as some unused boxers and a toothbrush he hadn't broken in yet.

“I'll sleep on the air mattress,” Blaine clarified when he saw Kurt eye the bed uncertainly. His eyes widened and he shook his head in disagreement of the idea.

“No, no, you take your bed. No, don't argue with me, Blaine Anderson,” he said when he saw Blaine open his mouth to protest. “You're being nice enough as it is. Please, I'd feel bad if you slept on the floor.”

Looking grim and not in the mood to argue, Blaine nodded and went to make up the makeshift bed for Kurt while the other boy left to shower. He was already in bed, now wearing a shirt for propriety, when Kurt got out, carrying with him the smell of shampoo and shower gel. Blaine watched him in the act of rustling his spare sheets and wrapping them around his lithe form. It made something in his chest ache, Kurt in his clothes, in his sheets, smelling of him, but he knew it wasn't real, so he turned his back to him to block out the thoughts and ideas forming in his mind, the what-ifs that, at least for now, wouldn't wander into the realm of ‘are's.

So Blaine stared at the wall beside his bed for what seemed like hours, listening to the quiet sounds of Kurt shifting and sniffling in what he assumed was sleep – until the pale teen suddenly spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse.

“Blaine? Are you still awake?”

Blaine hummed his affirmation, not turning around yet, waiting to see what it was Kurt wanted.

“Can I – just tonight… Can I sleep in your bed with you?”

This made Blaine finally jolt up, looking down at where Kurt was lying next to his bed with wide eyes and a turning stomach. He looked painfully lovely, drenched in moonlight like he was, his doe eyes glistening with vulnerability as they gazed up at him.

And Blaine was weak, so weak, because he knew it was a bad idea, he knew they'd both regret this in the morning, or at least he guessed they would; but he couldn't deny his angel anything, and if he wanted to be closer, then Blaine would get as close as he wanted him to. If he ended up heartbroken, no doubt by his own stupidity… well, he'd take it, a million times over, just to see the happy smile that erupted on Kurt's features when he scooted over and folded back the blanket, wordlessly inviting him into his bed and, although he wasn't certain Kurt knew it, his heart.

And surprisingly, it was perfectly innocent. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt and Kurt tangled their legs together, his face buried in Blaine's chest as he trembled and shook with what Blaine assumed were silent sobs. He was aware that he should probably ask, and he vowed to do so once they woke up, but for now, he settled for rubbing soothing circles on the boy's back and not noticing the knobs and bend of his spine, not thinking about the long graceful slope of his neck and the perfectly round curve of his ass connected to it.

He should've known it wouldn't stay that way; wouldn't stay innocent. There was too much heat between them, too much passion, too many hidden emotions, for them not to break when in such close proximity, in such intimate circumstances.

Kurt initiated it, wiping away the moisture that had gathered on his face before tilting his head up and connecting his lips with Blaine's. And Blaine had established before that he was weak, that he'd give this boy anything and everything, give him the very weapons to kill him with, so he responded, kissing back with fervor, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue and drawing whines from Kurt's throat into his own. Hands pawed at clothes, twisting and tugging at the fabric until they realized they had to break the connection their mouths were making if they were going to get to the skin hidden underneath. They both sat up, kneeling opposite one another and staring at each other longingly, but the interruption gave Blaine the chance to reconsider, to question whether this was the right thing to do; Kurt had had quite a few drinks, as far as he knew, and he was obviously vulnerable at the moment. Blaine would be more than a shitty friend if he did anything now. His concerns made him cease in his movements, made his hands still on the hem of Kurt's shirt, and made the boy look at him questioningly.

“Are you sure you're in the, uh, right state to do this? Or, well, decide you wanna do this? I don't – I don't wanna take advantage of you,” he whispered. Kurt looked like he was trying to suppress a grin, or maybe a laugh, as he cleared his throat.

“I'm sure. I'm not drunk. I've been drinking Shirley Temples for the better part of the night. And…” He hesitated, obviously trying to decide whether what was on his mind was really something he wanted to voice. Steely determination mixed with arousal in his eyes, and, much like Blaine had earlier that day, he took a deep breath before diving ahead. “I… I want this. I want it with you. O-only you. I honestly… can't imagine doing this with anyone else, ever trusting anyone else enough to… to open up like that.”

As Blaine continued to stare at him in awe, it became apparent that Kurt was starting to panic, as evidenced by his rambling, “I've completely freaked you out, haven't I? Oh fuck, fuck, I'll just, I'll leave, I'll stay with Santana or –“

He attempted to stand, but Blaine caught his wrist and leveled his hopeful gaze with his own, sapphire and silver meeting emerald and gold.

“I love you,” he blurted, and it wasn't perfect, it wasn't the careful, tentative whisper he'd imagined, with dusk setting in behind them as they strolled along the Hudson River shore after a perfect day of picnicking in Central Park and then rediscovering, or in Kurt's case simply discovering, the wonders of the city. But it was the perfect moment regardless.

Kurt's face positively lit up, the dark shadows of doubt that had previously overtaken it chased away. His smile was trembling and his eyes glistening once more; however, Blaine could tell it wasn't from misery this time around, that his angel wasn't the morose mess he'd been just half an hour before. It was like his admission had healed Kurt somehow, cured him of whatever torture his soul had been enduring.

“I… me too. I love you too.”

“I love you,” Blaine reiterated, breathless with the freedom of getting to say those words, of getting to hear them in return. “I'm yours. Only yours. I love you so much.”

This go around, they both leaned in to close the distance at the same time, their lips joining in the middle. Their passion was riding high as Blaine was stripped of his shirt, followed shortly by Kurt's; as Kurt's back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and Blaine got on top of him, kissing him furiously, both of them moaning at the feeling of skin-on-skin, and yet, it still wasn't enough.

Kurt's sweatpants went first, Blaine's hands catching the waistband and pulling them down as far as he could without disconnecting his mouth from Kurt's jaw; the boy kicked them off the rest of the way in a desperate move to land in a heap at the foot of the bed, while Blaine was now biting and licking a path down Kurt's neck and chest. His lips latched onto a dusty pink nipple, giving it an experimental suck while his fingers pinched and rolled the other between them, the fingers of his other hand gripping his hip and playing at the waistband of his borrowed boxers. Kurt gasped into the silent room, his back arching and his own fingers winding in Blaine's hair to keep him where he was.

Blaine chuckled and switched, lapping at the other nipple briefly before moving back up to press his lips against Kurt's once more.

“Please,” the teen gasped against his mouth, skimming his hands up and down his back. Blaine trailed his lips to Kurt's ear, biting down on the lobe before he whispered hotly, “what, baby? What do you want?”

Kurt didn't answer with words; instead, he brought his fingers around Blaine's side to his stomach and dipped the tips of them into his sweatpants, lightly brushing against his cock and making a shudder run up Blaine's spine.

“This. You. Want you inside of me.”

Blaine pulled back so he could look down at the boy beneath him with parted lips. He didn't know if Kurt had ever done anything with another boy, but he knew that he was a virgin in at least that sense of the word. That he'd never had anyone inside him.

And now, he was about to be his first. Holy fuck.

He dove back in, settling more comfortably between Kurt's legs as their lips connected. Kurt took control of the kiss, rolling his tongue around Blaine's mouth, his hands trailing a line of fire over the width of his back down to where his waistband met his skin, and then further down, further, under the fabric to grab Blaine's ass cheeks and pull their crotches closer together. With a grunt, Blaine complied with the unspoken request, thrusting his hips forward to rub their erections together and making Kurt whine and push his own up hard to get more of that addictive friction.

Sweat was starting to bead on Blaine's forehead as they continued to grind and lose themselves in the pleasure, their lips never leaving each other's unless a noise wouldn't be contained or muffled by either of their mouths. At some point, Kurt started clawing at Blaine's skin and forcefully turned his head to the side, panting and sweating himself. Blaine was undeterred and just transferred his ministrations to Kurt's neck instead, which had the pale boy in whimpers and moans.

“Close, too close,” he finally managed to gasp as he tried to get Blaine to stop by gripping his hips. “Don't wanna come yet, please…”

Blaine halted his movements immediately and sat back on his haunches, checking Kurt's face for any sign that he had changed his mind. Kurt, however, simply reached out a hand to trail it up and down Blaine's chest, letting it catch on his nipples and beaming blindingly bright.

“I think these should finally come off,” he whispered and tugged at Blaine's pants. The senior was quick to acquiesce, moving to the edge of the bed and, after a brief moment of hesitation, pulled them off along with his boxers. He turned on the bedside lamp on his nightstand before he returned to kneel between Kurt's legs, farther back than before, and let the inexperienced teen look his fill. The blue eyes were dark and glassy, pupils blown out and raking the length of Blaine's nude form, from his face to his throat to his chest to his abs, down further to the hard length jutting out between his muscular thighs.

He sat up and began to follow the path his eyes had made with his hands, his touch cautious, like he was scared of screwing up. Blaine encouraged him with the small moan involuntarily spilling from his lips, until finally, his long, pale fingers wrapped around Blaine's long cock.

“Your cock is huge… I think,” he breathed with a tiny chuckle, obviously amazed by the sensation of stroking someone other than himself. While his touch was somewhat inexperienced and uncertain, like he wasn't used to the angle, it was his, and it was enough to make Blaine throw his head back and groan, especially when he sped up once he figured out a rhythm.

“I'm pretty well-endowed, despite my general shortcomings,” Blaine confirmed with a short-winded laugh.

With his eyes closed, he didn't notice that Kurt came even closer before the teen was already licking hesitantly at the head, collecting the beads of precum oozing from it. The older man looked, wide-eyed, down at the angel bent over and staring up at him with those doe eyes as he lapped at his cock, and bit his lip into a smile to prevent himself from becoming too loud already. That battle turned out to be futile, though, when Kurt's sinful pink lips wrapped around him to gently suck at the tip, making him shout a curse and grip his brown locks for something to hold onto. The heat in his belly was coiling, his abdominal muscles tightening already as the younger man began to bob his head experimentally under Blaine's ever-watchful eye, until Blaine was sure he was about to come. He used his grasp on Kurt's hair to gently pull him off, the obscene pop seemingly echoing around him and nearly bringing him to the edge once again.

On some intuitive level, Kurt seemed to understand why Blaine had stopped him, and there was that fucking smirk again, making Blaine growl and attack his lips like he had earlier in the hallway. The faint traces of himself he could taste there made his lower muscles clench and another groan escape his lips.

“I assume I, mhm, did well?” Kurt asked in a shaky voice, smug grin still in place. Blaine wanted to wipe it off his face, so he moved to nibble at Kurt's pulse point, sucking hard on the skin of his elegant neck, sure to leave a bruise, while Kurt moaned his approval.

He didn't think when he pushed the teen's boxers down his hips and thighs, didn't think when he pushed him back and pulled them off entirely; he just let himself feel, and be in awe of the beautiful creature lying on his bed, his pink cock resting against his naval, now dressed in nothing but the light from the bedside lamp and the moon. He wanted to taste every inch of him, mark every nook and cranny with his mouth, but his cock was throbbing and reminding him that he still had time for that later and that it needed attention now.

As if he could read his thoughts, Kurt let his thighs fall open, exposing himself on an entirely new level. Blaine's breath caught in his throat, and he told his dick to be patient as he swooped down on Kurt. Their lips smacked and their breathing was heavy and loud in the silence of the room, but it was music, beautiful music underlining the beautiful thing happening between them.

“I want you so much,” Blaine breathed as moved down the teen's body, not exactly going through with his heart's desire to devour all of his skin, but getting a good enough sample as he made his way between his legs.

“Then take me. I'm yours for the taking, just yours, I – oh, fuck,” Kurt replied, interrupted by a whimper he couldn't control when another hickey was sucked into his inner thigh.

“Don't – just, I want your fingers. I'll come too soon if you do anything else,” he told Blaine, who adhered to the warning, rising to rummage in his nightstand and grab a brand-new bottle of lube and a condom. He opened the bottle and poured some on his fingers, rubbing them together to warm up the liquid.

“Have you ever done this to yourself?” Blaine asked as he circled the pink pucker he'd just gotten a glimpse of, lying on his side next to Kurt so he could watch his face.

Kurt nodded shakily, sighing a “yeeess…” when his response coincided with the tip of a finger breaching his entrance. From there on out, it was mostly quiet; only the slick sound of the lube and Kurt's desire and Blaine's murmured reassurances and praise as he got the boy ready for him could be heard.

“Take me,” Kurt moaned as he writhed on the bed, three fingers deep inside of him, stroking his spot and scissoring so as to stretch him properly. Blaine was sweating from it, from the sensation of Kurt's ass gripping the digits so tightly and the knowledge that soon, his cock would take their place and be tortured with pleasure like that. He grabbed the condom he'd deposited by their heads and made to rip it open with his teeth, but was stopped by Kurt taking a hold of his wrist.

“Have you, uh, ever done it without a condom?” His voice was strained, like he had to focus hard on forming the words, and it was with a jolt that Blaine realized that was because of him. He knew he was good in bed, fantastic even, but there was something about this being Kurt that made him feel nervous, almost like a virgin.

Probably the fact that he was so in love with him, only the attempt to grasp the extent of it made him dizzy.

“No… I'm clean. I got tested a few weeks back.”

“Well… so am I, so…” Kurt bit his lip nervously, and let his fingers wander up Blaine's hand to catch the small foil wrapper. He pulled it out of his grasp and tossed it somewhere behind them.

“I don't want there to be anything between us,” he explained. Blaine's chest seemed to expand until it felt like it was about to explode with emotion at the display of trust, maybe even bigger than the act itself.

“I love you,” he whispered once more, not giving Kurt the chance to reply before he took his lips in a hungry kiss, a physical manifestation expressing the magnitude of what he was feeling. Kurt seemed to understand, though, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling Blaine on top of him as he reciprocated, then proceeded to uncap the bottle of lube once more to coat Blaine's cock with it. His long, lean, but strong legs wrapped around the older man's waist in a silent invitation, what with his mouth otherwise occupied.

Blaine got the hint, though. He aligned himself with Kurt's hole and slowly, carefully, started to push forward, until the ring of muscle gave enough for the head to pop in. Kurt gasped at the intrusion, eyes flying open as they locked with Blaine's, the wonderment at the feeling clear as day in them. He made fists in the dark curls, which clenched and relaxed and tugged in turns as Blaine thrust in deeper, deeper, until his balls hit Kurt's ass with a soft smack.

Breathing heavily, Blaine buried his face in Kurt's shoulder and peppered it with tiny pecks as he gave both of them time and opportunity to adjust while listening to the boy's equally harsh panting. Kurt was unbelievably tight around him, and while he usually prided himself on his stamina, it was a struggle not to come on the spot. It was only when the teen began to squirm impatiently beneath him that he pulled back a fraction and plunged back in, both of them moaning brokenly.

Kurt's hands, one of them still a bit sticky with drying lube, came up to rest on his shoulder blades. Heavy-lidded eyes stared up at Blaine as he built a slow, reverent rhythm, savoring the vice-like grip with which Kurt's walls were milking his cock and relishing in the small, needy noises that were torn from the boy's throat, responding to them with his own. Their lips joined, time and time again, with decreasing skill and increasing passion, tongues dancing and meeting outside their mouths as gradually, Blaine's pace picked up. They had already been sweating a bit before, but now they were positively sweltering, drops of salty water falling from Blaine's temples onto Kurt and running down Kurt's face to be absorbed by the pillow, mixing as their bodies glided against one another.

“Blaine,” Kurt whined and dug his fingernails into the older man's back. “Blaine, I – I need – deeper, fuck me deeper, I wanna feel you…”

“Fuck, Kurt,” Blaine swore and grabbed the boy's thighs. He hooked his knees over his arms and planted his hands next to his head, opening him up as far as he could, then leaned down to rest their foreheads together. He thrust in hard, and Kurt keened, his eyes screwing shut and his nails scratching down Blaine's back.

“Oh God, there, yes! Please fuck me, just like that, please…”

“Bossy,” Blaine joked breathlessly, but complied, shoving himself in as deep and hard as he could, and adding yet more velocity. The bed was creaking with the force of it all now, but he barely registered it; everything but Kurt, thrashing and begging and coming undone underneath his body, beneath his hips, was merely an easily ignored nuisance on the precipice of his mind. He didn't care what their neighbors might think when he angled his hips just so and began ramming himself against Kurt's prostate repeatedly, ripping yell after euphoric yell from Kurt's mouth until the boy was hoarse with it, unable to produce more than throaty moans and husky cries. Blaine was aware of Kurt's fingernails still scraping up and down his back and leaving marks of his passion, his thighs trembling from the onslaught of pleasure he was drowning in, was aware of his body shaking and his half-closed eyes staring and his wrecked voice asking for more. He was aware that he himself was fisting the sheets in his hands to ground him and keep himself from coming as Kurt's ass started to contract around him rhythmically, that he was groaning just as desperately as Kurt was, just as close to release.

“Can you come from just my cock fucking you, baby? Do I get deep enough for you?” he asked, voice gravelly and choked. The sound seemed to have done it; Kurt, instead of replying, wailed what sounded like Blaine's name, long and high and louder than before, white ropes erupting from his untouched length and coating both his and Blaine's chest. His hole clamped down on him, became impossibly tighter, like it was trying to suck Blaine inside and keep him there, and in combination with the sight of Kurt, head thrown back into the pillow, eyes shut tight, clutching at every part of Blaine he could reach until his arms gave out as he continued to moan into the space around them, Blaine was done for. It only took a few more erratic slams of his hips before he buried himself as deep inside Kurt's body as he possibly could, unraveling and groaning out a string of curse words interspersed with Kurt's name as he painted his walls white.

Kurt's heart was beating rapidly against Blaine's chest, matching the rhythm of Blaine's, and their lips found each other almost unconsciously. Their kisses were lazy, unhurried now that they'd quenched that thirst for each other – at least temporarily. Kurt's body was loose and pliant, his lips swollen and bruised and slick with spit when Blaine pulled back to look down at him. They curved into a blissful, sated smile as he stared back up, his eyes lidded with exhaustion.

“My legs are cramping,” the teen announced, his voice still hoarse, and Blaine laughed out loud as he unhooked them from his arms and let them fall to the bed. Now that his breathing had leveled out somewhat and the fog was lifting a bit, he noticed his dick was starting to ache with hypersensitivity, and reluctantly, he pulled out. Both of them winced with the change of sensation, but the discomfort didn't last long as Blaine wiped a hand down over Kurt's sweaty brow and gently cupped his face.

“How are you feeling?” he whispered, briefly pecking a flushed cheek.

“Amazing. And sticky and gross. Blaine, that was…” he trailed off, searching for a word, but Blaine understood nonetheless. There really wasn't a word that did what it had felt like justice.

“I know. It was for me, too.”

“I can still feel you inside me. I can feel… uh… I can feel your cum,” Kurt said with a blush, making something hot twist in Blaine's belly, but it was too soon for him to get hard again.

“Yeah? Do you want me to get something to clean up with?”

“No,” the teen stated emphatically and wrapped his arms around Blaine's torso. “I like it. If I could, I'd keep you there forever.”

“You could, you know,” Blaine dared to whisper. “I'd be a happy captive.”

They were quiet, simply drinking in the sight of the other before Blaine grabbed a handful of tissues from the nightstand to clean up the worst of the mess. They fell asleep with Blaine's body curled around Kurt's from behind, one arm slung over his waist and the other pillowing his angel's head, wrapped up tightly in the warmth of blankets and their love.