It turns out Kurt wanted to go shopping, which Blaine had got extremely excited about, imagining them trailing in and out of stores together, hand in hand. Maybe Kurt would let Blaine in the changing rooms with him when he tried stuff on, maybe he'd twirl around and ask for Blaine's opinion, which he'd happily give because let's not lie, Kurt looks amazing what ever he wears.

And Blaine would offer to hold his bags and not complain like Cooper does, and maybe Kurt would let him buy them lunch and hook their feet together under the table. Okay, so Blaine had really, really, been looking forward to shopping with Kurt.

That's why now, stood shivering in the freezer aisle of the local supermarket, he's sulking and shrugging in response to any question Kurt asks. His arms are crossed over his chest, partly in a weak attempt to keep warm, and partly in defiance while he glares at the floor.

"Hey, what's up with you?" Kurt asks, bumping his shoulder as he walks by, earning a mumbled response and a huff. This makes Kurt stop where he's reaching into a freezer before turning slowly, looking at Blaine questioningly. "Come on then, out with it," he says, stepping in front of Blaine and levelling him with a serious expression.

But Blaine just shrugs again and looks away, rubbing his hands over his cold, goosebumped arms. "There's nothing wrong, I'm fine," he grumbles.

Kurt frowns and moves to stand directly in front of where Blaine's staring, earning the ghost of a smile and an attempted eye roll. "I'm not psychic Blaine," Kurt begins, "and from what I can remember you've had a pretty good morning so far, so d'you mind sharing with me what's got you so grumpy all of a sudden?" Kurt questions, following Blaine's eyes as he avoids Kurt's, staring down and over his shoulder and at the ceiling.

Eventually though he sighs and gives up, knowing Kurt isn't going to drop it. "It's nothing. I'm being an idiot, I'm sorry, can we get ice cream?" he tries to perk up and smiles slightly, stepping around Kurt.

"Woah woah woah," Kurt says, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back. "You're not getting away that easy. Spill!" he threatens, his hand warm and strong around Blaine's wrist, whose eyes momentarily dart down to stare at the considerably paler skin against his own more tanned arm.

"Well, when you said shopping I thought you meant shopping," Blaine emphasises the last word, watching Kurt's face crinkle in confusion before realisation dawns and he begins to laugh, turning back to the freezers and crossing to the ice cream.

"We can go properly shopping if you want, we'll just drop all this back at home. I just knew we were running out of food, I didn't expect you to eat as much as Coop, let alone more," Kurt teases, glancing over his shoulder and smiling at Blaine where he's come to stand beside him, eyes roaming hungrily over the ice cream available.

"I can pay for this by the way, dad gave me money to pay for myself and stuff," Blaine offers absently, patting his pockets before finding his wallet.

"Don't worry about it," Kurt offers, taking Blaine's chosen ice cream from his hand and dropping it in the basket, "your parents let me live basically rent free, the least I can do is feed their son for a month," he says absently.

"You're doing a lot more than just feeding me," Blaine whispers lightly when he leans over, his breath warm against Kurt's neck as they walk together.

But the older man just stifles his laughter and pushes Blaine away, unable to stop smiling and blushing. "Well, I don't think they need to know about that do they? I don't want to be homeless," Kurt says, half serious, watching Blaine out of the corner of his eye as the boy runs his fingers absently over the boxes of cereal on the shelves.

Silence engulfs them for a moment, both smiling to themselves before Blaine speaks, "they hate it y'know," he says mysteriously, picking up a box of Reese's Puffs and moving to slip them in the basket behind Kurt's back.

"Hate what?" Kurt asks with a look of concern, grabbing the cereal and leaning over Blaine to place is back on the shelf, grabbing a healthier option and glowering at Blaine when, with a cheeky smile, he goes to pick his original choice back up again. "Don't," Kurt warns. "It took me literally months to wean Cooper off those," he says seriously, pointing an accusing finger at Blaine who promptly drops the box and continues to follow Kurt.

"Hate that you insist on paying rent, they moan about it like, every month when you pay it into their account," Blaine tells him, "I always hear them."

"They moan about it?" Kurt asks, stopping in the middle of the aisle, causing Blaine to walk a few steps without him before realising, turning with a look of confusion on his face, crossing to stand in front of Kurt.

"Not moan exactly, maybe that was the wrong word," he says hurriedly, looking into the distance as he thinks. "They just," he shrugs, which makes Kurt smile a little at the familiarity of it before quickly schooling his features, "They don't expect you to pay rent," he eventually concedes. "Cooper doesn't so they don't see why-"

"Yes, because Cooper's their son!" Kurt sighs, having had this argument a dozen times already with every Anderson. "I can't expect them to let me live in their beautiful, many-hundreds-of-thousands-of-dollars-worth apartment, in Chelsea, in Manhattan, in New-fucking-York for nothing Blaine. They could rent it out for real and get a ridiculous amount more than I pay" Kurt says, and it's half pleading, not wanting to discuss this for what feels like the hundredth time.

"Well yeah but, I mean, regardless of you, Coop would be living there anyway, so it makes no difference if you're there or not, I mean, to the prospect of renting it out," Blaine explains quickly, giving the same speech his father had given to Kurt, albeit it considerably less eloquent and convincing.

"Blaine," Kurt says, placing his free hand on the boys shoulder and leaning down to align their faces. "I'm paying rent, whether they like it or not, and I'm thanking my lucky stars every day for having a best friend like Cooper, with parents like yours, who are willing to let me live there, so stop arguing with me," he concludes. He watches as Blaine rolls his eyes, his lips parting no doubt to argue, but before he gets the chance Kurt steps forward and seals them with a kiss.

And that's definitely enough to shut Blaine up as he gasps before quickly kissing back, his hands instinctively flying up to knot into Kurt's hair, tiptoeing to get just that little bit more.

And then all at once Kurt's pulling away, feeling warmth flood his body. He places a steadying hand on Blaine's shoulder, pushing him back as he smiles and blushes, shaking his head at the younger boys enthusiasm, his memory jolting back to their first kiss, Blaine basically crawling onto Kurt's lap, giving as good as he got. Suddenly Kurt wants nothing more than to be at home with this boy spread out beneath him and making the noises Kurt loves to hear.

"I think we're done here, do you?" Kurt asks quickly, eyes darting between Blaine's.

"Uh huh," Blaine nods, bottom lip caught between his teeth before he turns and heads towards the cash registers, Kurt's hand slipping warm and broad into his own as they fall into step.

/

They make it home in record time, bags rustling and under threat of splitting at they dart into the building, crashing into the elevator. Kurt pins Blaine against the interior wall as the doors slide shut, dropping the bags in his hands he instead grasps Blaine's hips and presses against him, earning a muffled groan as he dips his lips to the tender skin beneath the collar of Blaine's shirt, nudging it away with his nose before biting gently up to his lips. He sucks a gasp straight from the younger boy's mouth before pressing his tongue in, feeling the body against him tremble, knees weakening, held up almost completely by Kurt's hands on his hips.

They reach their floor and scramble out the elevator, both dragging bags before dropping them, Kurt scrambles for the keys in his pocket, Blaine's arms winding around him from behind, skittering under his shirt, over his stomach as he arcs back into the touch.

Finally the small key slides into place, turned with a deft flick of his wrist as he twists in Blaine's arms and stumbles back, winding his arms around the boys neck and kissing him fiercely, tugging him along. He feels Blaine smile against his lips, hands caressing his hips and waist beneath his shirt, racing around to the base of his spine, his tongue slipping between the seal of Kurt's lips.

And they're both laughing, stumbling into the room before Kurt reluctantly drags back, "food," he manages to say breathlessly through a smile, followed a heartbeat later by "and door."

Blaine's smiles a little slowly before turning and dragging Kurt by the shirt with him back to the door. They grab a couple of bags each, laughing and bumping as they drop them in the kitchen, Blaine slamming the door before colliding with a hot, solid body behind him, soft lips fluttering like butterfly wings over his neck.

He groans as his eyes fall closed, body relaxing into the touch and press of Kurt behind him, letting himself be pulled back. He assumes they're heading for the couch, somewhere soft where they can both sprawl out and get lost in the touch and taste and feel of another body, where they can explore the person beside them. But instead he spins in surprise when he see's the couch getting further and further away, the lips on his neck become needier and rougher, hands roaming to the front of his body, over the denim clad expanse of his thighs.

"Kurt, where are we- oh," realisation dawns all at once at his feet bump on the threshold of Kurt's bedroom, the hand on his fly forcing the button open, the loud, quick grind of a zip being undone before Kurt's spinning him in his arms. His hands dig into Blaine's biceps, dragging him forward, leaning down to press their lips together and feeling Blaine gasp into the kiss. Kurt can feel the flex and quiver of the muscles beneath his hands, straining as Blaine's hands dart forward, fingers hooking into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him forward as his mouth drops open with a moan, his back bowing with the force of Kurt's lips on his.

And then Kurt's pushing him, nipping on his bottom lip one final time, dragging it between the sharp points of his teeth before his hands tighten, grasping and holding and pushing, pushing until Blaine's knees hit his bed and he buckles, laughing and smiling and breathless and beautiful. And Kurt's on top of him, knees either side of his hips, lips sucking sinfully over his neck, the exposed inches of his collarbone, fingers dipping incrementally beneath the boys gorgeously tight, annoyingly tight jeans until he can feel the swell of Blaine's ass in his hands, the instinctual upwards jerk of his hips, the press of his cock against Kurt's own.

Blaine's spine arches off the mattress, his head pressing into the sheets, falling to one side with increasingly shallow breaths, his hands shaking against Kurt's knees, up his strong thighs, over his hips, slim waist, grasping his broad shoulder and dragging, dragging until they're chest to chest and he can feel Kurt's heart beating rapid almost against his own. He can feel Kurt's lips wet and wonderful against his neck, his hands dragging down his jeans, the almost silent sound of the heavy fabric hitting the floor before there is a soft, broad-palmed hand dipped into his boxers, around his cock, moving in delicious twists and pulls.

"Kurt," Blaine's voice is dry and cutting and his eyes are unfocused as pleasure begins to coil through his body embarrassingly quickly. "Kurt," he repeats, one hand winding into the older mans hair, the other skittering down his chest, fingers catching on the buttons of his shirt, "can I-" he's cut off as lips press urgently to his own, one hand splayed beside his head the other working over him deliriously fast.

"You don't-" Kurt begins, head dropping beside Blaine's, "-have to-" he manages between breaths "-ask." His lips press against Blaine's ear, breath hot and body even hotter where it's draped over Blaine, every point of contact making his skin burn and blister with want, "just do whatever-" he leans back up, looking down with wide, endlessly black pupils and a smile that can only be described as devilish "-you want," he finishes before pressing his forehead to Blaine's, daring the younger boy to do as he's told.

Blaine gulps once, staring for an endless number of seconds up at the man sprawled and willing above him, the hot-sweet intoxication of his breath spreading like oxygen through his body until he feels light headed and feverish with desire. Desire to touch and taste and take, take and be taken in return. "O-okay," he stutters, hands rising to the collar of Kurt's shirt, fumbling at first before building confidence, popping the buttons one by one before with a final, assuring glance he pushes the fabric back, revealing the pale, soft curves of Kurt's body, the hard, yielding muscle and the sharp, jutting bones of hips and ribs and scapulae.

Kurt smiles down at him, and it's almost proud before his eyes flutter closed and his lips press into the sweat-damp hollow of Blaine's throat, feeling his breath catch and release in small bursts and long sighs of relief as his hands roam unrestrained over the body above him. Almost on instinct his hands dip and run down the inward curve of Kurt's spine, down to the base of his back, to the dimples pressed into his skin before forcing Kurt's solid, wonderful weight more on top of him, feeling the hard line of Kurt's cock where is rubs against his thigh, denim rough against bare skin.

"Kurt I- can you - please-" Blaine stutters, hands tightening and loosening on any and every part of Kurt he can touch, can reach and hold and cling to and want.

"Mmm?" Kurt hums against his neck, kisses decorating the blood-hot skin and cooling rapidly, the print of his lips overlapping and repeating over the tender skin of Blaine's throat a hundred times. "What d'you want?" he eventually asks when Blaine squirms beneath his, breathing shallow and quick and hands frantic over his skin.

"I want- I want to see you," he manages to say, blushing painfully red, biting his kiss swollen lips and looking every inch the half-debauched, desperate virgin that he is.

Kurt's eyebrows shoot up at the confession, because only this morning he'd been apologising for not being ready to do anything himself. And that'd been fine, perfectly fine, that still is fine. Kurt's more than happy to swathe him in kisses and touches and words, to make him fall apart and shatter and break, and then to rebuild him afterwards with just his lips, just his touch.

But this confession, those words whispered from a frightened mouth, from a frightened but thrilled boy who has no idea what he wants, who just knows that he wants and needs and craves something more, anything more, sends shudders of anticipation hurtling through Kurt's body like a train racing and rickety and dangerous on it's track.

And Kurt wants as well; wants like he never has before. He wants to tear away Blaine's clothes and then tear away the barriers he's built. He wants to destroy all the misconceptions he has of himself. He wants to make him feel gorgeous and adored and he wants, more than anything, to make Blaine feel wanted. To make Blaine see how crazy he drives Kurt, with his little shrugs and innocent smiles and untouched body, his dandelion-long eyelashes and lips which taste entirely of boy.

So Kurt smiles, slow and in stark contract with the scream of his blood in his ears, the hammer of his heart against his chest. Removing his hand from Blaine's boxers he shuffles back, off the bed and stands. "You want to see?" he asks, just to be sure, cocking an eyebrow and watching the slight curl of Blaine's toes as he nods, leaning up on his elbows, hair falling mussed and loose across his forehead.

So Kurt, without a moments hesitation, quickly unbuttons and unzips his jeans, wriggling his hips and pushing them down, stepping out of them and kicking them away. He looks up just in time to see Blaine's eyes outline his legs, quickly scanning up the muscles and bones and tendons, his bottom lip being pulled unthinkingly between his lips. And then his eyes find Kurt's navy boxers, a dark skin stretched tight over his thighs, the outline of his cock distinct and unavoidable. Kurt sees Blaine's throat work around a swallow and tries his hardest not to paint a million sordid mental images with the sight.

"You okay?" he asks, just to be sure, just to make sure Blaine is in fact still alive. But he is; Kurt can quite clearly see the rapid swell and dip of his chest beneath the Henley he's wearing and the room is filled with the sound of his breathing, made better by the catch of a gasp in his throat when Kurt's hands lift and hook over the waistband of his briefs. "Blaine, say something," Kurt insists, wondering whether things are moving too quick, too far, too much.

Blaine coughs and swallows again and nods, his eyes finally finding Kurt's before smiling blissfully slowly, "yeah I- never been better," he manages to laugh and blushes beautifully pink when Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Shall I?" Kurt asks, his eyes dipping to his waistband before searching Blaine's own for the tiniest increment of fear or hesitation.

Blaine nods quickly, eyes flicking back down to the line of Kurt's cock. But just as Kurt's finger dip beneath the fabric Blaine pushes himself up quickly, sitting properly on the edge of the bed as he speaks, "wait!" he says, causing Kurt to stop mid movement, "I- I want to," he says, voice quiet and unsure but urgent, holding tight to the sudden boldness seeping through his body.

"You do?" Kurt asks, the ghost of a grin curling his lips, fingers halting beneath the tight fabric.

"Please, if- if you don't mind," Blaine stutters, swallowing the growing fear in his stomach, the churning, crunching nervousness which causes his hands to shake when they lift, reaching towards Kurt.

Kurt steps forward, his feet between Blaine's where he's sat at the foot of the bed. Kurt splays his hands broad and strong against Blaine's shoulders, kneading the tense muscles as his head dips with a smile. Blaine stares up, lost but longing, frightened but thrilled. "Hey, you don't have to-" Kurt begins, carding his fingers through the knots of Blaine's hair, bed-ruffled and messy.

"I want to," Blaine assures him, hands smoothing over Kurt's sharp hip bones, thumbs dipping a half inch beneath the fabric, gliding down the hard, gradual slope of muscle, causing Kurt's breath to catch above him, nails digging slightly into his scalp. Then slowly, bit by bit, he pushes the boxers down, over the curve of Kurt's ass, over his straining cock, down his thighs until eventually the fabric falls forgotten to the floor. Kurt steps out of them and with gentle touches tilts Blaine's head up, watching and holding back a smile at the way his head tilts but his eyes remain focused on the cock in front of him.

"Look at me," Kurt eventually says gently, twisting his fingers in Blaine's hair and suppressing another smile when his eyes dart feverishly fast upwards, obviously not having realised he was blatantly gawping. "I wanna try something," Kurt then says, watching Blaine's eyes grow larger, his hands tightening around Kurt's thighs where neither of them had even realised he was holding. "Is that okay?"

"Mmhmm," Blaine hums, not trusting himself to form words right now.

"Okay, scoot back," Kurt says confidently, slapping Blaine lightly on the thigh and watching as he shuffles back eagerly, eyes darting up and down over Kurt's body, lithe and lean and long and his, at least for now. His eyes grow noticeably wider when Kurt climbs onto the bed above him, slowly, his eyes never leaving Blaine's as his hands fall gently against the boy's stomach, feeling the muscles flutter and tense beneath thin fabric as Kurt lowers himself to sit naked on Blaine's thighs.

"What're you do-…" Blaine's voice wavers before morphing into a low, animalistic groan as Kurt's hand slides warm and confident beneath his boxers, long fingers wrapping and squeezing his cock perfectly, his hips canting upwards automatically.

Kurt smirks unashamedly, watching his never-been-touched boy fall apart beneath his hand, the weight of his naked body, writhing and wanting against him. "I'm gonna take these off, 'kay?" Kurt asks through his grin, one finger tugging at his boxers, watching as Blaine's cheeks flush blood-red, the colour leaking down his neck, beneath the fabric Kurt isn't even going to think about removing.

"M- M'kay," he manages to say, taking a deep, stuttering breath when Kurt's hand finally releases him. Kurt works quickly, moving one hand beneath Blaine's body to lift his hips slightly, forcing the dark material down Blaine's ass and off his thighs, letting Blaine wriggle until they fall to the floor. His hand then wraps slow and strong around Blaine's cock again as he leans forward, his body stretching over Blaine's as he slowly slides their lips together. Blaine's hands wind tight and fast into his hair as his hips stutter off the mattress, thrusting into Kurt's palm.

"Tell me if- if you want me to stop, okay?" Kurt breaths against his lips, shuffling a little further up until he feels the hard press of Blaine's hip against the head of his cock.

"Uh huh," Blaine mumbles, slotting their lips back together and arching up, his eyes falling shut as his body trembles with pleasure. He feels as Kurt's hand releases him and whines, thrusting uselessly upwards and then ripping his lips from Kurt's when he feels Kurt roll his hips slightly, his cock rubbing hard and hot against Blaine's, bare and exposed and skin-on-skin and too much and not enough all at once.

Blaine's head snaps down, looking between their almost flush bodies and watching in awe as Kurt's hips press him down, their cocks aligning before a pale, broad hand wraps firm and tight around them both at once, dragging a choked gasp from Blaine's lips as his heels dig into the mattress and jolts his hips up, hearing Kurt laugh in his ear, feeling his lips glide like silk over his throat, hand moving sinfully slowly around them both.

"Fuck- Kurt, you could ha- have warned me," he manages to articulate between gasps and shivers, his nails digging tight over each of Kurt's shoulders, hearing him laugh low and deep in his ear, feeling the sharp scratch of his teeth over the skin jumping above his pulse.

"Where's the fun in that?" Kurt whispers against the shell of Blaine's ear, the warm brush of his breath making Blaine writhe and groan beneath him, craning his head to the side, one hand fisting Kurt's hair, dragging him closer, sliding their lips messily together.

And Kurt can't help but chuckle against his lips, smiling into the kiss and feeling his body tremble from the inside out. He shuffles slightly, grinding his hips down hard, earning a choked gasp and hard bite from Blaine before he slips his hand away, moving up to his own shoulder, tangling his fingers with Blaine's hand branding touches into his skin. Blaine lets go and blindly allows his hand to be guided downwards, his mind far too distracted with each touch and drag and sound to comprehend anything but the man above him.

Then all of a sudden Kurt has formed a cage with their interlocked fingers and is sliding both their hands down over each of their lengths, pressed firmly together in the tight ring of their sweat-damp palms. Blaine bucks and moans on contact, and whether it's the pressure on his own cock or the weight of Kurt in his hand he doesn't know, but both those feelings together make his head spin in the most delicious, delirious way.

Blaine pulls back just in time to see a smirk spread slowly over Kurt's face, his eyes wide and undeniably pleased with himself. Blaine blushes under his gaze, biting his lip before tightening his hand as for the first time he touches someone other than himself. And the reaction is instantaneous; the spark of heat up his spine and the buck of his hips, the thump as his head falls back and the pounding in his chest. But more noticeable and more beautiful and more mind-numbingly unbelievable is the reaction his touch elicits from Kurt; the short stutter of his breath, the quiver in his arm, the flicker of his eyelids and the way his entire body stretches and keens, the inward bow of his spine before he melts above Blaine, upper body slumping closer to him, lips against his neck, puffs of breath like pleas against his skin. His eyes become darker, hooded, unfocused as Blaine experimentally tightens and loosens his grip, repeating Kurt's slow, teasing movements with both their hands and marvelling as Kurt actually trembles against him, whining almost silently.

Then all of a sudden Kurt's spine is straightening, his hand slipping away from Blaine's as he stretches slightly, pulling open his bedside drawer. Blaine watches him through a haze of heat and touch, the gentle thrust of Kurt's hips, cocks still sliding together in Blaine's hand. He sees Kurt pull out a small plastic bottle, his gaze flickering to Blaine who's watching every movement. Kurt sits up slightly and takes Blaine's hand, his own shaking slightly as he squeezes liquid into his palm.

And it takes Blaine a moment to realise, his mind understandably preoccupied, short circuiting beneath the sweltering heat of Kurt as he drapes himself back over the younger boy, his chest pressing against him as his lips hum words into his neck. But eventually he catches on and, looking down Kurt's body, over the heave of his chest and the juts of his hip, he wraps his hand once again around his own cock and Kurt's pressed against him

The change is immediate; slick and tight and agonisingly perfect. Kurt moans brokenly into his neck and that's all the encouragement Blaine needs to quicken his grip, tightening his hold and twisting. He thumbs over both their heads, already wet with pre-come, earning a sharp gasp of breath from Kurt which releases in a wave over Blaine's body as he arcs upwards, into his own touch. He can feel heat bubbling at the base of his spine, leaking down his thighs, humming through his blood as his hand tightens a fraction more, speeding up and shuddering with the body above him, his other hand knotted in Kurt's hair, just holding as Kurt's face sinks into his skin.

Kurt's lips are warm against his neck and throat, the inches of his exposed shoulder and that spot behind his ear which he never knew was quite so sensitive. Teeth graze over his jaw, not kissing but just breathing, just staccato burst of breath intercepted with the tickle of eyelashes against his skin and the softest, smallest moans of pleasure which hum from deep in Kurt's throat.

"Kurt I- I-" Blaine's grip falters as his body jerks upwards, toes curling against the sheets as desire coils crushingly around him, hips rocking incrementally upwards. Kurt's body is pliant and fluid, pressed hot and solid and soft and naked above and against him, around him, inescapable and perfect as his hands tremble, rhythm lessening, hips canting up, head pressing back, lips opening with a moan.

Kurt feels his grip falter, feels the tightness of his fingers in his hair, nails scraping his scalp and he can practically hear Blaine's blood rushing beneath the thin skin of his throat. He looks up just in time to see Blaine's eyes roll, head pressed back, the white of his teeth, pink of his tongue, the inviting cavern of his mouth as Kurt leans up, slipping his tongue in alongside Blaine's and sliding his hand down between there sweating, swathed bodies.

Blaine's shirt is stuck to his chest and Kurt can feel the twitch and twist of Blaine's stomach muscles as his fingertips creep down his body before wrapping around them both, squeezing Blaine's hand, a silent plea as the younger boys body shudders and rolls upwards, his hand interlacing needily with Kurt's, mirroring his movements blindly. Blaine kisses back, battling for dominance, fighting with bites and licks, earning mewls and whines. But it's only when Blaine unintentionally scratches his nails over the stretched tight muscles of Kurt's back that he earns the loudest, filthiest, most disgustingly attractive moan followed by the juddering, short bucks of Kurt's hips down, over and over again which makes Blaine dizzy with sensation.

And then suddenly he's being flipped, Kurt's falling to the side and dragging him, dragging Blaine on top before his hand resumes the tight drag and pull along both their cocks and it's all to fast and all too much for Blaine to keep up. Because now he's on top of Kurt, knees unsteady either side of his thighs, his shoulders pressing into Kurt's chest as he leans over him, one hand still interlocked around their cocks, moving with Kurt's, wet and hot and fast. And there's a hand in his hair, tugging and dragging, Kurt's moans and gasps filling his ears and his body, his body which is burning. Head to toe on fire, going up in flames as his lips stutter out Kurt's name and a hundred indecipherable syllables and he comes, endlessly and drawn out, his head against Kurt's collarbone and his words against his heart and his come decorating his bare stomach.

Kurt comes seconds later, his teeth closing over Blaine's shoulder, bared where his shirt has fallen down slightly, his moans muffled into sun-brown, sweat-slick skin, his eyes half closed as his hips lift, taking Blaine with them and holding as he jerks and trembles through his orgasm before every bone in his body breaks and ever muscle screams and he slumps down, taking Blaine with him.

And for minutes, which each last a lifetime, they lay in silence, in the oppressive heat of one another's bodies, Blaine pressed against Kurt in a million places as they both smile their own secret, hidden, indecipherable smiles while the sex-saturated air around them cools the sweat on their bodies, rising goosebumps over their exposed skin in the wake of each touch.

Eventually Blaine rolls to the side and sprawls on his back, his thigh pressed to Kurt's, his body feeling limp and pliant and warm all over, mind a few paces slower than usual. He takes a deep, head-clearing breath before opening his eyes, slow and languid as he turns to face Kurt beside him. His eyes are closed, lips parted just slightly, kissed pink to match his flushed cheeks. One of his arms is trapped beneath Blaine's body, fingers curled softly against his waist, the other lies awkwardly across his chest from where it had fallen when Blaine moved. It's only when Blaine's eyes fall to Kurt's stomach that he notices the mixture of lube and their mixed come smeared over his skin, causing a small laugh to bubble out of him.

This catches Kurt's attention and he turns slowly to face Blaine, his eyes blinking open as a smile stretches across his own face. "What?" he asks a little groggily, tightening his arm around Blaine and pulling him closer.

Blaine's eyes flicker down to his stomach and Kurt's eyes follow, unable to hold back his own smile at the mess on his body and staining Blaine's shirt. He reaches out blindly and grabs some tissues from the bedside table, quickly wiping up most the mess before throwing them blindly in the direction of the bin.

"Very conveniently placed tissues," Blaine comments, unable to hide his smile and instead burying it in Kurt's neck.

"Shut up," Kurt retaliates, pinching his waist before pulling him even closer. He groans as the dampness on Blaine's shirt presses against his stomach and reluctantly rolls over. He stands and stretches his arms as he pads over to his drawers, pulling out a non-descript white t-shirt which he throws to Blaine. "I won't look," he says when Blaine catches it with one hand and stares hesitantly at it, "but I refuse to snuggle when you're all damp with come," Kurt says through a smile, his body flooding with relief when Blaine smiles back.

Kurt turns back to face the drawers, opening another and sliding into a pair of clean boxers, trying not to listen to the rustle of fabric as Blaine switches tops, fighting every urge to turn around and see Blaine completely striped bare, literally and emotionally. But he doesn't, he remains facing the wall until he hears a whispered, "you can turn around now."

And he does so with a smile on his face before crossing back to his bed, falling down next to Blaine who has also pulled his boxers back on. He shuffles over to him and notices a stiffness in Blaine's movements, a hesitancy in his touch as he fingers the hem of the borrowed shirt. But Kurt just sidles over and wraps an arm around his waist, wriggling impossibly closer and snaking his other arm beneath Blaine, hearing his sigh in relief as he too inches closer, their bodies pressing together as Blaine's smile presses into his neck.