"Blaine?" Kurt raps lightly at the door that is already ajar, then pushes it open slowly. He peeks in.

"Blaine, your mom let me in, she's said I should go up, you were..."

"Be with you in a minute..." Kurt's look falls on his boyfriend seated in his chair across the room. Blaine is beaming at him across a shoulder, then turns to his laptop again, moving the mouse swiftly over the pad at his desk.

Kurt nods, rather to himself. He steps inside and takes in the view more fully. Wait, is that...

"Blaine!" Kurt laughs: " I know I said I love the blazer and I wouldn't care if you overheated, but as it is, I actually do..."

Kurt bites his lip in amusement. Blaine's wearing the blazer. It's freaking hot out today, but he put it on. For him. Kurt grins.

Something about the familiar ensemble is not quite right, though. Kurt shifts his weight. Sure, Blaine is barefoot and wearing dark jeans to it, that much he can see, but something else...

Blaine interrupts Kurt's train of thought by lifting a finger to indicate he's almost done with what keeps his eyes locked to the screen. He clicks a window closed, and some music begins to play from his speakers at moderate volume. Then he swivels around on the chair giving it a nudge with his foot:

"Oh, don't worry, I won't overheat, I ..."

Blaine doesn't finish the sentence. At least Kurt never hears him.

Because the blazer is unbuttoned, hanging down loosely to Blaine's hips on either side, and Blaine isn't wearing his usual undershirt.

That's what has been missing, a voice inside Kurt provides from somewhere. The white collar at his neck sticking out. Of course.

But Kurt isn't really listening to himself as well right now.

Because Blaine is wearing nothing , freaking nothing underneath the blazer.

Kurt freezes on the spot.

If his mind hadn't just gone blank for a moment, he would probably have noticed that the way Blaine is slumped easily in the chair has an air maybe a bit too casual to be all coincidental. And that Blaine is gripping the arm rest a bit tightly, despite his overall relaxed demeanour.

As it is, Kurt doesn't. Because blank is the word.

"Kurt?" Something in Blaine's eyes clouds, and his brow furrows.

Kurt doesn't know what his boyfriend must be seeing in his face, but Blaine gets up and comes towards him, and the movement has the garment fall open a bit more to the side and that actually exposes... exposes a...

"Kurt, are you alright?" Blaine's chuckle is unsure: "You looked for a moment there as if you wanted to turn on your heel and leave..."

Kurt's mouth opens, but all he is able to do is shake his head. Repeatedly. No. Leaving was never on his mind. Was it?

He doesn't find the words, yet the incessant motion of his head must be enough to reassure his boyfriend, at least a bit, because the frown is easing slowly out of Blaine's forehead. But even if soft, Blaine's laugh is still rather self-conscious, when he walks past Kurt and carefully closes the door, that Kurt has left open.

Kurt only turns at his waist following Blaine's course through the room with his eyes, since his feet seem rooted to where he stands, and he is sure his knees would give out if he risked taking a step, anyway.

Convenient as well, that from this angle Blaine doesn't see what gives Kurt already the most severe blush of embarrassment. Because right now he finds himself regretting choosing those skinny jeans he's wearing, curses them for the same quality he usually picks them for: That they leave nothing much to the imagination.

Blaine actually turns the key in the lock.

At that, a croak finally makes his way past Kurt's throat: "Blaine, your mom..." He lets it hang there, sure Blaine gets his meaning.

Because just like with Burt, there's a rule at Blaine's place, that the door stays if not open, then at least unlocked.

The smile Blaine gives Kurt in answer starts out abashed, but then gains confidence, and Kurt supposes, it's mostly for his sake and reassurance: "Well, if, and I mean if she should decide to come up, I'd rather explain a locked door to her, than have her walking in on us..."

Kurt blinks, then swallows. That does sound reasonable to someplace inside him.

Blaine shrugs gingerly, the blue starched fabric moving against skin. And it might be pure imagination, but Kurt thinks he can hear, hear the slight rustling, sliding sound.

Blaine takes the few steps towards Kurt: "Kurt, I'm sorry, I was worried this was a little much, I just wanted..."

He walks up behind Kurt, his hand making contact with Kurt's shoulder, and a shiver runs down Kurt's spine, as Blaine moves to stroke along his back.

A soft peck is placed on Kurt's shoulder where it meets nape, through the silky cotton of Kurt's shirt. Then another one, closer to his spine.

Kurt can't follow Blaine's movement with his eyes anymore, so he closes them in a gasp against the feeling of Blaine's gentle mouth, of warm damp breath between his shoulder blades.

He knows it's a gesture of endearment meant to soothe, and in some indistinct place deep inside it actually does, and something settles.

All other parts of him, though, rather explode in a buzz of heightened sensory awareness, and Kurt thinks his skin vibrates with the rush of adrenaline and heat.

But Blaine stays oblivious to that part, obviously.

"Kurt, you don't have to feel coerced into anything, really, it's just you've... we've been so bold last time, I just wanted to... " He mumbles apologetically against the neckline of Kurt's shirt, and Kurt can feel him backpedal, retreat a bit over listening to his own words. Kurt's muscles tense over a sudden irrational feeling of loss.

Blaine whispers behind him: "I didn't want to scare you..."

Kurt's lips part, taking in an uneven breath. Is that what he comes across like, scared? Blaine! Blaine, you...! His mind is shouting inside and the next moment he turns around and roughly brings his hands up to pull Blaine's face into his.

Hoping to get his meaning across. And the state of him. Oh, he's not scared.

Well, maybe somewhere deep down, a little anxious, but above all, he's just... stunned. In awe. And incredibly, and he blushes even at the thought: Turned on by that visual. By that very moment. By Blaine.

Blaine gasps into his mouth, clearly taken aback at the force behind Kurt's reaction, as Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine's neck, making their chests clash together, faintly aware and sparked, spurred on by it further, that there is only one layer of cotton between their hammering heartbeats this time.

Surging heat claims Kurt's body whole through their contact, ending in a thorough prickle all along his scalp. The strange oddness of that particular sensation makes Kurt break the kiss, a little shocked at himself at last and at how lost he got in it, how needy he must look.

He blushes three shades deeper, stumbling back a bit, leaving Blaine standing again with his hands raised where Kurt has pulled back out of their grip, that pose so achingly reminiscent of their last encounter.

"Blaine, I'm so sorry..." Kurt finds himself stammering, when he's not even sure what he's sorry for, really. But he should be, shouldn't he, ravaging his boyfriend like that?

Blaine only searches Kurt's look, trying to find their connection, declining the very idea of sorry with the movement of his head.

Kurt sees him mouthing the words: 'Don't be'... and Blaine even repeats it, but his voice never finds him. So he just resumes to, keeps on shaking his head no, not unlike Kurt before.

And maybe it's that, that situation of roles reversed, but eventually, it gets through to Kurt.

Gets a slow smile spreading on his features at all the things his boyfriend's wide dark eyes are trying to convey.

And he finds the courage again to take a step towards Blaine.

"You... you look..." Kurt's voice trails off, as his look flickers down.

Blaine brings his chin up involuntarily under Kurt's eyes, stands straighter, and takes in a trembling breath.

Kurt watches his own hand reach out, and a finger ghosts, caresses along and up the front of the dark navy fabric.

He takes in how Blaine's muscles twitch and tense next to where his fingertip brushes skin only ever so slightly. A dance, a play for his eyes only, and Kurt's heart skips a beat each in answer.

He believes Blaine might have whispered his name somewhere along, but his attention is so absorbed in that little game of exploration, that he holds his breath, suddenly startled, when a jolt runs through his boyfriend, and Blaine begins in an unsure set of moves to take off the blazer completely. Shrugs out of it, a little awkwardly, then lets it slide down his shoulders.

Kurt feels his throat go tight for a fleeting moment. Until he realizes, tardily and from someplace distant in the vast of his mind, that yes, this is exactly what he wants. A thousand times yes. He only would never have dared to ask for it in so many words.

Blaine folds the blazer in half, then turns shortly to discard it onto the nearby chair.

And now Kurt does notice the slight strain in the tendons of Blaine's neck on some unconscious level. Does register that feeble voice inside piping up, suggesting that his boyfriend might need reassurance just as much as Kurt himself, right now, and here, and that his scrutiny, his uncontained gaze roaming over... over... that it might be too much, too invasive. Kurt somehow knows, knows he should say something, anything...

But all he can do is stare.

Blaine takes a long breath. For composure, Kurt assumes, projecting his own feelings. Blaine's stomach visibly lifts then constricts in the task.

Kurt's own gut is tingling. He has felt those lean muscles beneath thin layers of clothes, but never did he imagine this. This.

Well, he didn't really imagine anything, in detail, that is, entertained more of a fuzzy fantasy, if even. He didn't dare, really, if he is honest.

But this now erases anything and makes it so much better, tops any fantasy by so many degrees. Because this is real. Kurt swallows over the thought.

Those arms, not exceptionally muscular per se, but so exceptional nonetheless. Because they are his, are Blaine's, are Kurt's somehow, are here and for him right now. To touch. Feel. Kiss. And suddenly that thought spurs Kurt forward in almost a jump.

He steps up to Blaine, until he thinks he can feel the heat of that body so close radiating off Blaine's skin, like a glow, an aura of presence, of warmth. He inhales. Like static, and awareness and just there.

Kurt leans over and lets his breath ghost along Blaine's cheek, followed by a nudge of his nose, then open lips lightly dragging down below Blaine's ear, down the side of his neck, taking up, relishing and giving back Blaine's shudder at the contact in a fluttering line of sighs and caresses.

His head comes down, mouth simply settling in a kiss onto Blaine's shoulder, breathing, swallowing the scent there.

Blaine's chest is heaving for this littlest of touches.

A sudden possessive impulse has Kurt envelop his boyfriend's form in his arms, hands coming to rest on the small of Blaine's back. And all along, fingers and forearms relish every tiny expanse where they find skin to touch instead of fabric. Skin. Exposed and bare. For him.

Kurt shakes with the feeling and the way their upper bodies brush against each other haphazardly in their loose embrace.

Throughout, Blaine's cheek has been seeking the support of the side of Kurt's head, finding a grip in the contact, rubbing against while he's kept making those soft sounds in the depth of his throat, that have Kurt's knees feel weak under him.

Now Blaine pulls back a bit to look at Kurt, and when he speaks, his voice comes out a little raw:

"Imagine..." Blaine swallows, then draws a caress across Kurt's cotton covered chest with a venturing finger, and Kurt's breath stops: "Imagine how amazing it would feel..."

He doesn't say it. But Kurt's mind completes the thought out of himself promptly. Skin on skin.

Yet Kurt's frame goes rigid despite himself: "I'm... not..."

His look drops to Blaine's collar bone so close to his face right now.

"What?" Blaine's tone is the gentlest, although the pattern he's been stroking across Kurt's chest has come to a halt, unsure again.

Yeah, what. Kurt huffs silently in faint annoyance at himself. Why does he have to feel so shy again now? Blaine said it, he was bold that last time, where has that spirit evaporated to?

This is not like last time, a voice inside reminds wisely. Last time you were both fully clothed.

Kurt closes his eyes shortly to reign in his thoughts.

He's always had a bit of an issue with taking his shirt off. Or more.

He doesn't think he's ugly, it's not that. He's okay. Mostly. He just feels so naked without a shirt on. Stripping it off doesn't come easily to him, like it does to some guys, to whom going shirtless seems to be the most natural of ideas.

For him even exposed shoulders feel bare and intimate somehow. Unguarded.

Without the cover of his fashion armour to prod and fit him into the right shape, attitude and poise.

Kurt opens his eyes again and becomes aware he's been caressing circles along Blaine's lower back. He feels Blaine's breath on his cheek, slow and measured.

At that a shiver claims then squares Kurt's shoulders, even if he thinks the movement must mostly be an inward one, not detectable on the outside. Still it makes all the difference.

This is Blaine. And somehow Kurt knows that he, Kurt, will come around in the end, wants to, has for so long now. So this hesitation is wasted, really.

"Okay."

Kurt hears his own voice, and the one syllable brims with decided agreement, but still Kurt's lashes flutter down self-consciously at the sound.

Blaine lets out a deep breath, like held too long, and that brings Kurt's eyes up again.

Meeting them, Blaine leans in to place a swift sweet kiss to his lips, never breaking their gaze, like in a gesture just to make sure Kurt's alright, really alright.

And just with that, he is. Because there's so, so much more to that little move, deeper down below.

So Kurt can't but smile, and means it with every fibre of his being, even as his vision of the room around them swims, when Blaine's hands reach out, and begin to unbutton Kurt's shirt.

One button at a time. When the last one is done, the simple act of breathing in brings Kurt's bare belly to touch the heel of Blaine's hand.

Both shiver at the contact, and look up to exchange shy smiles over it.

Then Blaine locks his eyes to Kurt's while he slips his hands underneath the collar of the shirt, sliding in and with a gentle stroke swiping it off both Kurt's shoulders. His fingers skim along Kurt's arms, then catch the shirt at Kurt's wrists, before it can fall off to the floor in silky finality.

Careful hands fold it neatly in half smoothing out the fabric, like with the blazer before, and Kurt has the time to appreciate and acknowledge that detail with a twitching smile, before Blaine turns and throws the shirt over the chair on top of the blazer.

Kurt fights the need to cross his arms over his chest, in those few moments when Blaine's eyes leave him. He can't help but brings up one over his front, hand clasping uselessly at his other dangling forearm.

Blaine's expression fills with all adoration and endearment once he sees, and Kurt wills his arms to hang down at his sides and his flickering eyes up to meet Blaine's.

Yes, he is trying to keep his cool, to keep his features smooth and unbothered, but Blaine is looking right through it.

This time, Blaine doesn't draw back, though, doesn't retreat. Instead he lays his palms lightly on Kurt's elbows, then caresses up, and Kurt feels goose bumps break out all over his skin.

"You are breathtakingly beautiful." It's a terse whisper filled with so much.

And some small part of Kurt even wants to snort at it. Mainly because this is so very like Blaine, to be able to pull of words big like these, corny yet so sincere in his intentions.

But the awe in Blaine's voice reliably drowns out everything else, stops that impulse in its very tracks, and has Kurt's throat feeling tight for a moment instead. He swallows the lump and lowers his eyes.

Looking down their bodies, he registers, how by now his flush reaches down his neck, across collarbones into his chest, scattered in sharply defined patches of red, stretching out below the occasional freckle.

Kurt sighs. He knows in the right angle of light, his veins sometimes almost appear to shine through his skin, mapping out his pulse, leading into nipples, pale, so unlike Blaine's. Kurt blushes even harder, as he catches himself comparing, marvelling at Blaine rather.

But the look of rapture he is sure he is wearing, is found just as surely mirrored in Blaine's face, and Kurt really shouldn't be surprised after all they've done and been through. But it still makes him gasp.

Blaine gently kneads at Kurt's hips, breathing soft kisses and repeated whispers of admiration and affection to his collar bone, sending jolts of pleasure along Kurt's skin with the lightest of touches.

And Kurt doesn't know how Blaine even did it, but suddenly he feels the edge of the bed on the back of his calves.

Before his mind can ever catch up, his body complies immediately, readily, sits down, then scoots up further to lay down with Blaine's guarding hand at the back of his head, the other one coaxing them into a comfortable position in the middle of the bed, in the most natural of movements.

Blaine is over him almost at the same time already, so that when Kurt's back meets the cool of the covers, it's just then, that Blaine brings his body down for a kiss, and hot, sensitive skin is covered by skin, their naked chests finally coming together in time with their lips.

And Kurt's mind shatters into countless little pieces.

Both moan into the other's mouth, as Blaine keeps rubbing up Kurt's body in one languid gliding motion, sinking into their kiss, pressing together in an incessant movement of further down against Kurt, further still, so that it drives Kurt deeper into mattress, up at the headboard, or so it feels to him, when really he actually rises up back against and into Blaine's form, both merging into each other more.

Kurt thinks for a moment he will come from that contact, that kiss alone. That kiss that is one of their entire bodies.

He makes a strangled sound, as Blaine's hips settle last in the motion, and the edges of his sight seem to darken around a vision that is already hopelessly blurred from the sheer overload of sensations.

Tardily it enters Kurt's awareness, how the heavy fabric of their jeans feels suddenly rough between them. Next to and compared to the impossible softness of smooth skin on skin.

He grumbles an indistinct complaint against Blaine's cheek, breaking their kiss to regain some breath, but still doesn't stop his hips from bucking up against Blaine's in their relentless grinding roll.

A jolt runs through Blaine, and he suddenly moves to untangle himself a little from Kurt's vicelike embrace, uttering the most reluctant set of sounds while doing so.

He props himself up on his elbow, leaning a bit to the side, swallowing and needing a second go before his voice obeys him enough to be coherent: "Kurt..." Blaine waits until Kurt's eyes seem to focus a bit out of their haze, only to swallow again, pressing his own eyes shut, at Kurt's hands mindlessly clutching at his hip, hooking fingers to belt loops, trying to pull him in closer again:

"Kurt, please, don't you want to..." Blaine bites his lip and with a groan reaches down to his own jeans, grabbing a crease of fabric on his upper thigh, and drags, stretching it down a bit to release some of the pressure of the material's too tight fit over his groin. Then his look flickers back to Kurt, half-bashful, half-asking, as if checking if he got his meaning across.

Kurt's body has gone still, eyes wider by the second, as emotions and notions of what it is that he actually wants - and what he doesn't and what he shouldn't want, and what would be appropriate - all swamp him at this unexpected visual and question.

Kurt's mouth drops open then shuts again, and Blaine already makes a low and needy sound, that lets Kurt know that he misses the feel of Kurt's body against his just as much as Kurt indicated a moment ago.

Kurt's mind blanks at that noise, forgetting the question even, and then Blaine seems to lose patience, and some surprised part inside Kurt marvels at that, the stark fact of Blaine losing patience, but all other parts of him unite in shouts of agreement, consent and yes, when Blaine leans down again.

Kurt is so ready to revel in the expectation of more of that dizzying rub of chest against chest, lips against lips, that he never sees coming where Blaine's hand between them reaches next, accompanied by a throaty whisper: "Here, just let me..."

Kurt hears the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and the fraction of a second later, arches of the bed at the electric shock of Blaine's hand, there.

Blaine's voice is at his cheek the next instant, soothing, even if breaking at its edges: "There, isn't that better? Kurt? More comfortable, I mean?" He's pulled his hand back immediately, and Kurt sinks down in a gasp, and his mind is reeling, tumbling, taking leaps.

Somewhere along, he has to admit it, though. It is better, indeed. So, so much better, really, with the harsh caging tightness of his skinny jeans gone, the softer fabric of his briefs giving, allowing space. Yes. So much better.

Kurt gingerly nods behind the hands that he has brought up to cover his face. That he keeps pressed on there, not so much out of embarrassment at Blaine's actions, but more his foolish, self-conscious jumping, his blushing, his own reaction, if he is honest.

Blaine's fingers caress over the backs of Kurt's hands. "Kurt...?" Kurt swallows once, then lets them slide off his face.

"Blaine, I..." He searches his boyfriend's eyes, tries to convey his apology, his meaning, encouragement even, all at once and pours all those battling emotions into their connection, without caring to sort through them, or hold any single one of them back. Hoping Blaine will understand, what he can't seem to fully understand himself, much less could put into words.

And somehow Blaine does. Stares. But does, seems to get something of it, must find enough there at last, to slowly smooth the worried frown out of his forehead. Enough even to bring the slow smile back.

Kurt gives a sigh of relief that breaks, turns into something more the next second, as Blaine has his hand sink down between them again, stroking careful circles and lines of light pressure across Kurt's belly, right above the waistband.

Through it all soft attentive eyes never leave Kurt's for a moment.

Kurt blinks at his boyfriend, presses his head back farther into the pillows, yet not breaking their gaze, abs and muscles tensing involuntarily at the hint of nearness of Blaine's ministrations. Kurt only registers faintly how he feels the urge to hold his stomach in, like when feeling ticklish, still all the while arching up barely noticeably into the touch for more.

And just so, something in Blaine's look sparks, darkly somehow, then shifts and Kurt can see him sucking in the inside of his lower lip.

Then Blaine's hand moves lower, this time with purpose, even if he lays his palm down only softly, fingers just making contact, tentatively, tracing the outline of Kurt beneath cotton by the mere pressure of his hand's settling weight.

Kurt lips fall apart, heat shooting to his face so abruptly that he thinks it may make his eyes water, and his hands jerk up again, rubbing erratically at his cheeks for an instant.

But when he hears Blaine whisper his name, once, twice... something inside him snaps, then gives, and he reaches out blindly, to try and pull Blaine up and on top of him, fingers clasping at nape and neck and shoulders, and anything he can get hold of, into another kiss, and yet another.

Blaine hums, moans into their lip-lock, lets himself be dragged, but not before giving a gentle squeeze to Kurt's cock throbbing beneath him, a light tug that has Kurt's vision, voice and mind fail him utterly for an oblivious second.

When he comes to again, Blaine's hand has moved to the mattress at Kurt's side to support his weight, and Kurt finds his own hands down to scratch, claw at Blaine's chest, running through that faint scattering of hair there.

Blaine's breathing heavily out through his nose, trying to arrange his knees, keep his balance in his position on top of Kurt on arms quivering with the strain and more.

Kurt presses up against him, own muscles vibrating, the sensation of hard nubs of nipples rubbing against his chest the weirdest feeling ever. The most tantalizing feeling ever. He could have never imagined anything like it.

More. Kurt grips at Blaine's back, bringing him down, in a longing for further, for more, closer still, when there's really no more closer to go.

Not up here, Kurt finds himself putting a yearning to thought, and in the next instant is reaching down between them, shaking, jerky hands working to return the favour, opening Blaine's fly, making fleeting contact with cotton, warm and damp with precome... and below...

Blaine's throaty moan at Kurt's ear makes Kurt's fingers go limp, and he lets them fall to the side, out of the way, when Blaine grinds down for more friction, and then it's all soft fabric and hard flesh beneath, and both shout at the sensation.

Blaine moves away slightly and Kurt feels the open zipper cut into the cotton of his briefs with a rasping sound, and never sparing a second thought brings his hands down once more between them, grabs then yanks Blaine's jeans down a bit more onto his hips.

Blaine's breath shifts and he mumbles something incoherent into Kurt's mouth as lips meet once more with hunger. But it's only when Blaine bears down again, that it does dawn on Kurt that he must have tugged down briefs along in the same motion, because what he gets to feels now, is skin, smooth and so wet and hard against his belly above the waistband of Kurt's own briefs. The contact draws a yelp from each of them, racing blindly to repeat it, and again, and once more again.

And then Kurt can't think to begin to process, how fast, fast that very idea of Blaine, of Blaine's cock on him, that idea backed up and surpassed by the sheer reality of it, how very soon this, this, just this... has his mind dissolving, disintegrating into nothing but that sense-dulling buzz of tension-then-release. Release. And he lets go and comes beneath Blaine with a stumbling murmur of vowels, fingers digging into his boyfriend's back.

The next thing he knows, is having Blaine's hair against his mouth, when Blaine tilts his head to sink down onto Kurt, moaning into the crook of Kurt's neck, even biting down a bit and Kurt shudders, doesn't mind any of it.

Can't right now, through the echoes of oblivion, when it's actually Blaine's cum that trickles across his stomach, the sensation of warm and wet to his tummy not in itself a new one, but then that thought, Blaine, this, this is Blaine... it changes everything, reinvents it from scratch into a wave of all and just everything, that has Kurt trembling, gaping in its wake.

And then Blaine just lies heavy on him, for a long, expanding moment.

He tries to move away somewhere along, but Kurt holds fast to him, unwilling to part yet, pulls him against his own quivering muscles and what's inbetween them, wet and hot and smoothest skin.

Kurt can make out the very outline of Blaine, his abs, ribs, all pressing into Kurt with Blaine's weight, until he thinks it should hurt, should at least be uncomfortable, but it just isn't. So he maps it out, all of it, imprints it into his memory instinctively, mind not able to do anything else, but word- and thoughtlessly marvel in the lingering presence of touch and gravity and senses humming with after glow.

Eventually, Blaine does wiggle out of Kurt's embrace, some long moments, minutes, later.

He gets up, standing on uncertain feet, pulling up his briefs a bit gingerly, and Kurt's own arms fall onto the covers beside him at last.

When Blaine looks down at him, Kurt can see something flash across his face, together with a blush, but he can't quite make it out completely, before Blaine turns, and walks the few steps up to his desk.

Kurt feels strangely cold without Blaine's body, even with the outward temperature wafting into the room from somewhere despite the A/C.

He absently wonders what picture he must present. And if he should feel dirty, somehow, self-conscious at least, lying here as he does.

Red blush omnipresent with skin flushed from friction, covered in a layer of sweat. That dark patch of a wet mess staining his own pants, hair undoubtedly thoroughly ruined, and on top of it all, and -if he could still blush any harder, would he? Should he?- another boy's cum on his belly.

And all in broad daylight still. Kurt lets out a breath.

He should probably feel positively dirty. But he doesn't.

All that's there is just that distant feeling of wonder, amusement even, a notion of importance, of novelty, but mostly... this just feels... right. Okay somehow. So okay. Like all the chemicals in his body are flowing in their right place and pace, having him feeling at home in this body and moment.

Kurt wants to smile at the thought, and with elbows bent and propped up beside him, leisurely caresses over his chest in amazement at the lingering echoes of that prickle all along his skin.

When he looks up, he meets Blaine's dark eyes, and again that expression that he can't all fathom. But when he takes the Kleenex out of Blaine's hand that he holds out to him, he thinks Blaine's hand is trembling.

Must be from the strain of supporting his weight all this time, Kurt's mind supplies from somewhere.

Kurt takes the tissue to his belly, to clean himself up, thoughts still so far gone and lost in flashbacks that he doesn't pay too much conscious attention to the task, mindlessly staring at his stomach, rubbing the Kleenex across in slow but effective swipes.

When he's done, he pushes his hand down into his own pants once to remove at least the worst of the mess, before his thoughts catch up with what he's doing. His eyes shoot up, suddenly wide at the idea that Blaine might have seen this.

He has. Blaine is staring at him, and for a moment Kurt debates if he should feel embarrassed. He crumples the Kleenex in his fist, unsure where to rest his eyes.

But then Blaine is on his knees on the mattress next to him, over him and sinking down for a kiss, that has Kurt breathless at once. Not for its force, or vehemence, but for its slow tender emphasis, and all it conveys in one simple touch.

The tissue falls to the covers, unnoticed.

When Blaine finally breaks the kiss, rolling to his side and inching close, snuggling up in the circle of Kurt's arm, his eyes are dancing.

And Kurt is content for a while with simply breathing, smiling at how his boyfriend is watching his face from so close next to him, Blaine's dreamy gaze caressing Kurt's every feature, marvelling, wandering along with gently straying fingers.

After some silent minutes a lopsided smile suddenly twitches around Blaine's mouth. Kurt catches it in the corner of his eye, drifting half-closed.

"What?" His voice already sounds like coming out of deep sleep, rasping and slow.

Blaine props his head up in his hand and the mattress bounces lightly under them with the movement. The smile has turned into a barely contained grin:

"Well, how did I do?"

How did he...? Kurt's sure his face has just fallen a little. His eyebrows shoot up:

"Are you for real?" There's laughter in his voice. And disbelief. What, does Blaine expect a performance rating, now? He'd never pegged his boyfriend for that type...

Blaine's rolls his eyes and squirms a bit under Kurt's stare: "No, not now, I... I mean with my little attempt earlier, at being bold and seductive like you last time..." He searches Kurt's eyes out again, a sly glint in his own: "Did it work?"

Now Kurt's lips actually do fall open, and he allows it to happen, huffing incredulously, then gesturing indistinctly to his, their lying forms, to remind Blaine of all that's gone down and still fills the air and space between them. "Did it work, honestly, Blaine?"

This time it's Blaine turn to have his grin look a little smug.

He receives a pillow to his face in the next instant for it, and Kurt hears him giggle behind it.

Kurt lets it sink down again just as quickly, though, probably sooner than his boyfriend deserved it. He heaves a dramatic sigh, narrowing his eyes playfully. Generously:

"Oh, well, yeah. You are a ten. There."

Blaine beams at him. "Really?"

Kurt suppresses a giggle and shrugs in the affirmative.

Then he lifts his hand and studies his nails in a mock show of detachment.

"But then again, I am a twelve, of course."

Added dryly through a half-pout.

Blaine's mouth opens as if in protest, taking a sharp breath in... but then closes again.

Kurt struggles to keep his features straight a little bit longer, but is done for as Blaine inches closer, cooing at Kurt's ear:

"True. You are." It is half-brimming with affection, half-subdued chuckles.

Kurt throws his boyfriend a look, but Blaine just leans in and places a soft peck on Kurt's cheek. Then he simply stays there, blinking impossibly sparkling eyes at Kurt.

Kurt takes a moment to marvel silently at how they do it. Go from self-conscious to shamelessly lost to each other to goofing around sweetly like this, all in the course of an hour, when being together.

Blaine's lashes ghost along Kurt's cheek as he breathes another baiting kiss to the lobe of Kurt's ear.

Kurt smiles.

Oh, this is a losing battle.

He growls, then laughs, then turns his head and catches grinning lips with his own:

"Okay, then.

From the top."