Kurt sat perched astride Blaine's hips, naked except for a black lace garter belt hugging his hips and a pair of black silk stockings on his long, muscular legs. Blaine, hands shackled above him to a length of chain that fitted between the wooden slats of the headboard and completely naked with his Dom's body pinning him to the mattress, stared up at the delicious sight of Kurt sitting calm and cool, icy blue eyes shining, shot glass poised close to his mouth. Kurt ran his tongue along his plump, pink, kiss-swollen lips as he made ready to throw back the clear liquid…and then stopped.

“What I don't understand is this…” Kurt said. Blaine exhaled dramatically, his eyes rolling back behind his closed lids. “Why would you even keep a present from the dreaded ex?”

“Because it's vodka,” Blaine explained, as he had in one way or another, for the tenth time. “It's supposed to be good vodka, and I happen to like vodka.”

“And why did she buy you the stuff that comes in a big crystal skull?” Kurt reached down to his side, fondling the fluid filled glass skull suggestively.

Blaine watched Kurt's fingers caress the smooth surface of the crystal head and swallowed hard.

“You know her,” Blaine answered, his voice cracking when Kurt ran just his fingertips lightly in small circles, teasing the way he did when he had his hands on Blaine's cock. “She likes to think she's so punk rock and hardcore. It's just kitsch.”

Kurt brought the shot to his lips again and Blaine watched, eyes wide, waiting for Kurt to take a sip. Blaine wasn't sure why, but the thought of being dominated by a tipsy Kurt made his whole body tremble from his bones on out.

Blaine wanted it so bad.

“Kitsch?” Kurt moved the shot away from his lips again, and Blaine's throbbing cock jerked where it rested against his stomach. Kurt ignored it, reaching over the side of the bed to the floor and grabbing the box the skull head of vodka came in. “Let's see how kitschy this skull juice really is,” Kurt said, flipping the box deftly in one hand to find what he was looking for. “It says here,” Kurt read thoughtfully, “it's made from Newfoundland water triple crystal filtered through Herkimer diamonds…” Kurt looked back at Blaine, making a mock impressed face, forming his lips into a tight ‘o' that made Blaine's cock throb harder. Kurt noticed the look of desperation on his sub's face but turned back to the box, a small smirk curling his lips as he continued reading. “Oooo, Dan Akroyd makes this stuff.”

“Kuuurt?” Blaine whined, trying not to shift uncomfortably beneath his Dom's body, forcing himself not to seek friction for his aching erection.

“Wait, wait, wait…” Kurt continued, overriding Blaine's plaintive plea. “In reverence of those enlightened after touching any of the thirteen crystal heads unearthed around our globe we offer this pure spirit.” Kurt raised a brow, flung the box back to the floor, and fixed his gaze on Blaine's lust blown eyes.

“Well, well then,” Kurt cooed. “Bottoms up.”

Blaine licked his lips as he watched Kurt take the shot into his mouth and swallow, but almost immediately Kurt's serene face twisted into a grimace of disgust.

“Oh my God!” he groaned, his usually high and airy voice gruff and raw. “That tastes awful! It's like…rubbing alcohol and metal shavings!” He swallowed his empty mouth dry a few more times, shaking his head and whimpering. “And it burns!”

Kurt expected Blaine to laugh, to chuckle darkly at his expense, but Blaine's eyes devoured the sultry image of Kurt, dressed in delicate black silk and lace, pounding back that shot, grimace or not.

“Well, people often mix it with other things,” Blaine said hurriedly, watching Kurt pour another shot, cap the skull head bottle, and inhale the liquor with a sharp, backward snap of his neck. Kurt peered at Blaine over the rim of the empty glass, studying the honey-colored eyes that burned through him like the fire-water searing his throat. The heat in Blaine's eyes became the tinder that fueled his own – a deep, roiling boil that started in the pit of his stomach, a potent mix of unbridled lust and alcohol. He felt it warm his whole body, his skin tingling, licked by tiny flames beneath his flesh.

Kurt leaned forward over Blaine's body, purposefully depriving Blaine of the feel of his skin and hovering just above where Blaine needed Kurt to touch. With the alcohol in his system, Kurt felt a little more loose, a little more free. He looked down at Blaine, smiling a lopsided but knowing smile. Blaine could smell the alcohol on him – sharp and strong and heady, mixed with Kurt's own smell, full of a strange, erotic power.

“What do you think it would taste like,” Kurt whispered, “if I mixed it with you?”

Blaine waited patiently as he watched his Dom pour another shot. Kurt dipped one long, elegant finger into the clear liquid, capturing a drop on his skin. He ran the wet finger over Blaine's lips, circling the sensitive skin twice before capturing Blaine's mouth in a kiss, deep and dirty, not enough tongue and too much teeth, hungry enough to make Blaine beg for more…if he had permission.

Kurt pulled away too quickly. Another finger dipped in vodka circled Blaine's mouth. Before he could catch the drips on his tongue, Kurt was on him like a breath of warm air in an already too hot room. A spark shot through him at the taste of Kurt's tongue. Alcohol was foreign, almost taboo when associated with Kurt. With the exception of a single shot of tequila every so often and a few glasses of wine on special occasions, Kurt rarely drank. He never felt the need to surrender to the abandon that came with excessive drinking.

There was something exciting and sensual about the taste of vodka on Kurt's lips. It made Blaine's Dom more dangerous (but not in an unsettling way), alluring, provocatively human – strength with flaws, control with a touch of rebellion. Blaine quivered as Kurt took more and more from his lips and his mouth till his lips stung and he couldn't breathe without Kurt.

Kurt sat up, leaving Blaine's lips pursed, chasing Kurt's mouth as he pulled away. Kurt smirked at the juxtaposition of bliss and agony on Blaine's face.

“That was sweet,” Kurt said, husky and breathless. “Let's see how it tastes somewhere else.”

Kurt raised the still mostly full shot over Blaine's body and tipped it, carefully pouring the cool liquid into the hollow of Blaine's neck. Some of it pooled and some of it slipped over his skin in a thin river. Kurt lapped at the small puddle of vodka slowly. Blaine moaned every time Kurt's silky tongue touched his skin. When the liquor was mostly gone, Kurt latched over the spot, sucking lightly to clean away the rest.

Kurt giggled when he raised his head - cheeks flushed pink and pupils wide.

“Kurt…” Blaine's voice wavered slightly in a partial cautionary tone. “That's your third shot.”

“I know.” Kurt kissed along the column of Blaine's neck, licking up the tracks left by the rivers of vodka. “I think I might be starting to feel it.”

“I wish I could feel it,” Blaine whispered, dying with every ounce of his desire for Kurt to take a body shot off his Dom.

Kurt bit Blaine's lip when his kisses traveled around to his sub's mouth.

“I don't know if I should,” Kurt hummed, vibrations spiraling off his lips and firing across Blaine's skin, skimming smoothly down his muscles and making his already straining cock bob.

“Let me, Kurt,” Blaine pleaded softly, melting as Kurt's lips brushed over his skin.

“Well…” Kurt smiled, sitting up and grabbing the skull to pour another shot. “Maybe you should at least catch up.”

Kurt moved the bulky skull to the bedside table. He held the shot aloft, looking between it and Blaine in confusion, trying to decide on the best way to serve it to him. Blaine watched Kurt's eyes bounce back and forth, and he jiggled the shackles.

“Maybe…” Blaine raised a brow hopefully. Kurt's brow rose with his in question, and then he understood.

“Right!” Kurt put the shot on the bedside table and picked up the silver key to the shackles. He fumbled the tiny thing with shaking fingers, giggling every time he dropped it and had to go in search of it. When he could concentrate on gripping it firmly between his fingertips, Kurt tried to fit the key in the lock, struggling to overlook the way Blaine's tongue gently circled his nipple or how his mouth suckled on the hard nub. Only one shackle came undone but Blaine didn't care. He was after one thing. In his mind, he already felt it filling his mouth, the heat of it sliding over his tongue. He lunged for Kurt, flipping him quickly onto his back and locking Kurt's wrist in the loose shackle, Kurt's eyes widening in shock as he watched his sub get the upper hand.

Blaine pulled the chain tight until Kurt's one shackled wrist met the headboard, giving Blaine the bulk of the chain's length and the freedom to move around. When Kurt finally realized everything that Blaine had done, Blaine had the shot in his hand, a mischievous smile curling his lips. But instead of drinking it, he dribbled the contents of the glass from Kurt's belly button down to his groin and over his cock, soaking the lace garter that clung wetly to Kurt's hips. Blaine dropped down over Kurt, following the trail below his naval with his tongue, smiling with delight when Kurt arched his back, bending up to meet Blaine's mouth. Without a breath of warning, Blaine took him, surrounding Kurt's cock with the heat of his mouth, searching out the vodka with his tongue, snaking around Kurt's shaft and lapping greedily.

Kurt had had Blaine's mouth on him more times than he could remember, and it always felt amazing, but this was different. This wasn't just sucking and licking; this was drinking, tasting, savoring. Blaine grabbed the crystal skull and, forgoing the shot glass, poured more vodka over Kurt's skin. When Blaine's lips closed over his head, Kurt bucked up sharply into his sub's mouth. Kurt felt Blaine swallow, humming appreciatively as he did at the tastes of edgy and smooth, bitter and salty. Blaine couldn't separate them, couldn't discern the difference between Kurt and the vodka, so he devoured them both.

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt moaned, pulling against the shackle on his wrist, tightening the chain that held him. “God, yes!”

Kurt couldn't keep still, rolling his hips up to fuck Blaine's mouth, and Blaine moved with him, following Kurt's body. Blaine poured more alcohol over Kurt's skin. He lapped it up with his tongue, sipped it through his lips, and slowly he started to feel the fire, too, but how much of it was vodka and how much of it was Kurt, Blaine wasn't sure. His head swam, his stomach blazed, his body ignited all over. His cock ached for release, but Blaine needed Kurt's lips on his so he could cum.

Blaine climbed up Kurt's body, laying over him while he filled his glass for one more shot. Blaine tossed it back, groaning as the liquid burned his throat (a consequence of not drinking hard liquor in a while). He coughed a few times, breathing deeply to clear his head. Then his mouth was on Kurt's, his unshackled hand wrapping around his cock and Kurt's together, stroking quickly. Kurt moaned loudly, in a breathy way that was both angelic and obscene. The fingers of their shackled hands laced where they hung trapped above their bodies.

“God, baby,” Blaine murmured between kisses, “you're fucking hot when you're a little tipsy, aren't you?”

Kurt bit Blaine's lower lip in response, pulling slightly so it stung.

“And…and you're kind of a slut about it, too,” Blaine panted. Kurt gasped at the remark, but then he giggled.

“Is that my sexy dominator talking?” Kurt asked demurely. “Because I like it when he comes out to play.”

“Yeah?” Blaine's voice dropped to a whisper, smooth and sinful as he moved his lips lightly over Kurt's neck. “He likes having you to play with.”

Blaine almost regretted for a moment not letting Kurt unshackle his other hand. He would have loved to have Kurt completely at his mercy – hands trapped above his head, immobile, helpless while Blaine toyed with him, bringing him close to the edge and then pulling away, leaving him wanting, writhing, begging for relief.

But this closeness was what Blaine favored. Kurt's silk-sheathed leg twined its way around Blaine's body, pulling to bring them closer. Kurt's free hand restlessly danced over Blaine's body, nails digging into his muscles, searching for a place to hold on to. Kurt's mouth and skin still tasted like vodka, and Blaine couldn't get enough. Blaine didn't just kiss Kurt, he consumed him, and without realizing it, he had rolled on top of Kurt, letting go of their cocks to pin Kurt's hand to the pillow. Blaine's hips bore down on Kurt, rutting against him roughly.

Kurt loved the feeling of being trapped beneath Blaine. He blinked his eyes, trying to capture a glimpse of his beautiful sub during his ruthless assault, but the room spinning made focusing impossible. Kurt didn't drink, and he was surprised that the tipping and tilting of the world didn't make him nauseous. He felt grounded beneath Blaine's body, and an unfamiliar liquid flame connected every muscle and every nerve until he no longer felt real.

He spread his legs wide for Blaine and moaned into the air around him, not caring an inch about the control that quickly siphoned away, did nothing to grab it back. Rational thought became a joke as he felt himself being used, stripped down to the only elements that mattered to Blaine in this intense moment – his cock and his mouth.

Blaine pinned Kurt down by his wrists, squeezed them until they hurt. A whimper slipped past Kurt's lips followed by a pornographic growl of pleasure. Blaine marked Kurt's skin, bit across his chest, and Kurt responded by arching up to meet his mouth, begging and babbling and sometimes giggling. Kurt was so sweet, so incredibly desirable, but he wasn't just a plaything to Blaine.

Kurt was everything.

That was why feeling Kurt cum beneath him while he chased his own orgasm was such a treat for Blaine, such a reward. Kurt's cock pulsing against Blaine's stomach did him in, the strained gasp in Kurt's voice when he opened his mouth to say one last thing and couldn't, the hands that had been rolling in Blaine's grasp stilling, fingers flexing in the air.

Kurt's body was filthy from his own cum and sticky from where spit and vodka dried on his skin. Blaine longed to lick him clean, but that moment passed as the heat from the alcohol bled away. In the cool, calm air lay his sated Kurt, and the overwhelming desire to be wrapped in his Dom's arms.

Curling up beside Kurt and feeling him fold around his body required an awkward twist of Blaine's arm above his head, since the key to the shackles had become momentarily lost in the mix, but Blaine didn't care. He craved Kurt's closeness in moments like this, when the sex was over and Blaine came back to himself, fully aware that Kurt had relinquished some measure of control for the sake of pleasure – a pleasure that they shared, that was unique to their relationship, a pleasure that was sacred.

Blaine's sub side returned with his Dom's arm wrapped securely around him, and the dominator that surfaces every once in a blue moon retreated back to wherever he exists in Blaine's brain. Kurt dropped sloppy kisses into Blaine's curls and smiled, a bit loopy but regaining control.

“Did you enjoy that, sweetheart?” Kurt asked, his words slurred around the edges, but not as much as before.

“Yes,” Blaine admitted with a nod. “I did, very much.”

“Okay,” Kurt giggled, kissing Blaine's temple, feeling Blaine smile where his head rested against his chest, “put that one on the list. It was kind of fun.”