Blaine feels Kurt mumble, then chuckle into the kiss.

The words were probably mostly meant as a joke, but when Kurt draws back to let his head settle down onto the pillows again, there's a faint flicker in his eyes, still, that speaks of possibilities.

It may be only Blaine's wishful thinking, but then again, no... it's definitely there, a flutter of lashes and a measuring stare testing the waters, searching out and comparing intentions.

Blaine is in love with that look on Kurt's face immediately.

He leans forward, stretching his neck to place a kiss to Kurt's jaw and marveling at the sensation of skin catching, as he rubs his cheek along the curve of Kurt's naked shoulder in the movement.

His head is still blissfully swimming with all that seems to linger on and along their skins, seems to reflect off the sheets, in scents, vibrations, and the wordless knowledge of 'it happened'.

It's still happening.

Blaine presses his face into the side of Kurt's neck, inhaling deeply. Loves the give of smooth skin and the resistance of strong tendons here, the pulse against his entire face. Oh, screw it, yes. He has a... thing for Kurt's neck. He wouldn't call it an obsession... but it surely comes close.

He could spend the remainder of his life there, and then die happy. Mapping out each inch of responsive spread of space to cover, spurred on by the sounds Kurt gives him, so close, not only to hear, but to feel them vibrating through Kurt's throat in their making.

That milky white throat that bruises so easily, that even a thorough kiss leaves marks on sensitive skin.

Kurt has pushed him away, reluctantly, time after time, when Blaine was getting too lost and reeling in the undertow. Kurt having the better feel for when the threshold is crossed, and it starts leaving traces. Light ones but still. Traces of friction, of suction, of teeth, that won't fade over the course of one night. Traces Kurt doesn't want, not now, not in summer, when he can't wear scarves and turtlenecks to hide them.

It's not that he'd really be that much embarrassed by them, Blaine assumes. It's a choice, rather: Kurt just never wants to be the obvious kind with things like this. Whatever that means to him, but that's how he said it.

Blaine smiles into the crook of Kurt's neck.

Yes, that's what Kurt said. He doesn't want it plain for everyone to see what they've been doing, have them read it from his skin.

They might read it from the dopey smile on my face, Blaine argued, and Kurt laughed.

But this is for us, Kurt then whispered. No one else.

And of course Blaine was, is aware, knows that Kurt knows that the others know, or think they do at least. For Kurt rolled his eyes then, saying as much.

But I like the thought of it, Kurt declared. The sound of it: Just for us.

And Blaine nodded. Smiling. Over how Kurt's fine parading the fact that he has a boyfriend, but not what they do together in the seclusion of their privacy.

And somehow it made sense then, and does now; and is just one more perfect particularity Blaine can't help but love about Kurt.

He nips, drags his mouth over Kurt's skin absently, until his lips prickle, slightly numb from the constant gentle rub.

So no blemishes on Kurt Hummel's flawless skin. Unless...

The muscle of Kurt's shoulder jerks lightly in response to the twitch of Blaine's mouth, as he places his lips just there, an idea shaping after the longest build up:

Now there's skin to explore below the neckline of a shirt.

Skin usually hidden away behind and guarded by layers of dress shirts and tailored jackets. Skin no one gets to see. No one but Blaine.

The thought put to words in his mind, that sudden awareness coming from intuitive knowledge, now strangely confirmed and brought to light... Blaine's chest literally swells with it.

He grins into the contact, bringing his head up.

Never has he thought the figure of speech was so accurate. But it's just that, the notion seeming to expand against his rib cage with the beat of his heart, making his shoulders lift, breath catching in his lungs.

He props himself up on one elbow, never giving up his sprawl half-draped across Kurt's form.

He is the one to see this. The only one.

Blaine swallows, while his fingers begin to skim over skin, trailing a path to the center of Kurt's chest. He rather feels it against in his fingertips, than he actually sees the soft shimmer of hair, but it's there.

Kurt. Kurt's body. The nerve endings in Blaine's fingers hum with the sensation, enthralled by the concept Blaine's mind can't quite seem to grasp yet, even if its proof is right within reach, indeed graspable, touchable, laid out in front of him.

He's expected something like this, but it still feels surreal to more than guess, to see.

His eyes follow the caress of his hands, taking his time now, more at ease than earlier.

For all is shining in a different light now, as fingers roam skin illuminated by a late afternoon sun, their pace stripped of the fumbling urgency that was shared before, but instead brimming with a new strange sense of rightfulness, of entitlement. Yet never with any less trembling wonder below.

And, oh, yes, how Blaine adores what he sees. Can't anything else but, won't, no reason in all his understanding of this world not to.

Kurt's curves seem to flow, painted in softer contours and lines than his own. Blaine smiles to himself. Kurt's is the kind of body type that no matter how slender Kurt is or ever got, there would always be a smooth, thin layer of supple tissue on top of strong, flexible, warm muscles. And Blaine is not surprised to find he is crazy about it.

Because even with the pale sometimes almost-translucence of Kurt's skin, the delicate way he holds himself... despite it all Kurt never appears fragile, not with this powerful promise of healthy, natural strength below.

Blaine struggles to stop his smile from morphing into a grin:

Maybe it's just that quality that helps make Kurt's hugs perfect as they are.

And just at the thought, Blaine's look drops to the stretch of those broad shoulders.

Oh, yes. Kurt gives the most amazing hugs. The kind when he takes his time, mind you, not the quick greeting ones he shares with friends. They're wonderful, too, but a shadow in comparison.

Blaine can't quite put his finger on it how Kurt does it.

But those arms wrapped securely around Blaine, around his shoulders, always manage to give him a grip, hold him up, yet never suffocate. Manage to be a frame rather than a cage, somehow creating space from sheer nearness. Space to breathe, while the perfect fit of Kurt's body is molding, merging, melting into Blaine's form.

Blaine realizes that the pattern his finger's been tracing has become slightly repetitive, when a deep breath beneath brings Kurt's chest up against the flat palm of his hand.

Snapping out of his reverie, he looks up to meet Kurt's eyes, blush claiming his own cheeks and ears. Because briefly it feels like being caught. As if he forgot for a moment. That they are both still here.

He didn't of course, and how could he, but for the fracture of a second that's what it felt like.

Kurt's features are smooth, though, and he is simply looking at Blaine. Waiting maybe.

And whether it's that last thought or something else, but somehow it is enough to pull Blaine under, drag him down into that place, that area of tension where he finds himself so often when being with Kurt.

He curls, bends his fingers, bringing the lightest scrape of fingernails into his exploration of skin.

And with that, a sudden engine inside him kick starts into a droning buzz, running on pure adrenaline.

Adrenaline, that he knows comes from the need, the pressure inside to make this good, make this right for Kurt, do right by him, when at the same time it just makes it so very much harder to concentrate.

Because lately it mostly seems to prepare the way for other feelings, the emotion tipping somewhere along, and nervous exitement so easily, naturally, readily becomes excitement for more. For touch. For closer, and taste and feel.

And yet it still leaves him in that state of strained exertion, everything about him vibrating with it, sensory awareness heightened, although strangely selective. And his heart racing.

The weirdest thing is that he is not even sure he wants the strain to stop. Ever. Yes, there is a dim yearning for some sort of release, relief, resolution, but at the same time he knows he craves that dizzying spiralling higher, having him strung tighter, and jumping at the tiniest touch.

For a fleeting instant a part of him wonders, if this can be healthy. Blaine swallows. His eyes must as much as radiate the abundance of manic energy that this all gives him, surely.

He looks up and sees Kurt's lips part, although he only barely hears the gasp over the rush of his own blood dulling his hearing.

His senses are playing tricks on him. Must be, when all the things his tongue thinks it can taste are any indication, all those nuances that it forefeels when he hasn't even brought down his mouth... And surely you can't taste a sound, or a colouring of skin?

Blaine sinks his forehead down against the spot below Kurt's collarbone. Can Kurt tell? Because Blaine feels like his condition must be giving off sparks, setting on fire everything it touches, falling, feeding back all along his own skin.

He presses his eyes shut briefly, lashes fluttering and brushing against Kurt as he opens them again. He never lifts his face, simply tilts his head to watch his fingers resuming their caress.

"Do you like being touched there?" Blaine's own voice sounds hoarse to him, hot breath recoiling, glancing off Kurt's flesh, hitting the hypersensitivity of Blaine's own lips while speaking. His hand gingerly circles a nipple, trying to make clearer what he means.

"I don't know... no one has..." A low laugh ripples through Kurt's chest, more amused than self-conscious. The wide round strokes give goose bumps to Kurt's skin, the sensation easily leaping over, doing the same to Blaine's.

"This... this is... interesting... strange, somehow..." Kurt's voice trails off and Blaine's thumb and index finger come together in an impulsive, yet gentle pinch.

Muscles beneath him jerk at the touch, but probably more out of surprise, Blaine assumes, judging by the chuckle that immediately fills the space between them. Still Kurt squirms a little, and Blaine mumbles 'sorry' against Kurt's side without his voice ever catching.

He bites the inside of his lip at the surge that sears his cheeks with a harsh flare of resentment at himself.

Easy, Blaine, hold back a bit, deep breath... But instead Blaine hears a growl leave his lips. God, just why does Kurt have to smell the way he does...? So very much like... Kurt... and what they did before...

Something topples over inside Blaine then. He closes his eyes, but he can't even seem to put it to words. Yet it has his hand trembling on his boyfriend's skin by the time he opens his eyes again.

"Kurt?" Blaine doesn't even know what it is he's asking. What he's wanting, needing, here. But somehow Kurt seems to sense some of it.

And he keeps talking, speaks on, lets Blaine into his head, patter meant to soothe and comfort:

"When... when you pinched, just now, it was even more strange... but, but the feeling roots deeper, somehow... I mean, the...nubs themselves have always felt strangely numb..." The words ring in Blaine's ears and he leans in and closes his lips around the right one of Kurt's nipples, pulling ever so slightly with his teeth. It gets another jump from Kurt, and another snicker: "Ow..."

A wave of heat rolls through Blaine, when Kurt's muscles contract against Blaine's hand on Kurt's stomach, Kurt tensing like to hold his tummy in over the feeling. "Now that did sting,... but somehow... I feel it prickling, no, tickling down to my navel still..."

Blaine huffs, before he even knows he does. "Kurt, don't analyse it dead..." His words are a low stumble of a sigh against and around skin. His heart's not in the soft reprimand, though, because as much as Kurt's light-headed, matter-of-fact tone somehow unnerves, or rather unhinges him, he needs, wants to hear this.

Kurt's so very loosened up by before, by the afternoon so far, and although Blaine can tell that his boyfriend's trying to find his way back to being in control, to being sexy and alluring, he's overall mostly being sweet and giggly, energies and thoughts still scattered all over the room.

And Blaine loves that mood about him, actually. But right now it only means that they are not on same page. Because Blaine is in way too deep already again.

His head is thrumming with Kurt's taste on his tongue, while Kurt resumes his ramble of genial rationalizing:

"I'm sorry, it's not bad, just strange somehow... I never really got what the big appeal was, I mean, touching myself... I wouldn't think to concentrate on there... my hands mostly are busy else...oomph."

A hard kiss cuts Kurt short, the frantic impulse all Blaine's mind could come up with in sort of a knee jerk reaction. The images, that Kurt's line of argumentation have evoked, still swamp him nonetheless. Blaine groans, but breaks away from Kurt's mouth just as fast, pressing wet lips to his boyfriend's chest again. He almost misses the next words over the increasing din of heat beat in his ears.

"You know, maybe it's different in the heat of the moment, in another more progressed context... because earlier, really, chest on chest, that felt amazing..." Kurt's tone is musing, still too analytic and lively, and Blaine turns a burning face and dark hazy eyes up to his boyfriend at last.

He meets bright grey-blue ones, staring back into him. And then Kurt must realize it from something about Blaine's expression, well, maybe all of it. Because with a blink something in those eyes is shifting, as Kurt finally takes in that Blaine already is in a progressed context. And that they're not in sync at the moment.

A gentle smile spreads on Kurt's features, then, and changing tact, his voice is suddenly softer. He leans his head back further into pillows to look at Blaine, eyes lighting with sparks of green:

"Do you like it?"

Blaine only bats his lashes at the question, distracted by those eyes, once more and like always.

And then there's suddenly movement, and Blaine can barely process how fast Kurt switches their positions, hovering over him the next instant, propped up on one elbow on his side next to Blaine.

Kurt's hands are on him just as promptly, nails lightly scratching across Blaine's chest, and Kurt's staring down, that stare alone too much, enough to have Blaine's breath hitch and his trembling frame freeze.

Then it's just one of Kurt's fingers moving in a slow spiral, drawing closer to its center. Wide watchful eyes are on Blaine, and for a moment he feels almost embarrassed by how his body squirms beneath Kurt's caress, tenses into a taut arc, pressed back into the mattress.

When the tip of Kurt's finger finally finds most sensitive flesh, Blaine's breath stops, and his lashes flutter, and oh, why does he even bother trying to keep his features smooth...?

He realises he's closed his eyes by the time he opens them again, and when his sight regains focus, it is Kurt's face that he sees. And something about his expression deepening, yet hiding behind a half-grin:

"Oh, okay, you like it."

The tone of that statement strangely vexes and heats Blaine up with an emotion entirely different, to equal parts.

But he has no time to ponder his feelings, when Kurt wipes his mind blank with a swipe of his tongue, licks, laps, and breathes down on that small expanse of skin, that seems to bundle all Blaine's nerves and capacities for attention in it for now.

Then there are careful teeth, just barely nipping, holding Blaine in place with the gentlest embrace, while the tip of Kurt's tongue pushes against him.

And he can't help his hips bucking up. Thinks that Kurt might have laughed softly. Can't be sure, though, because his mind fails him briefly.

The hot wet spot that is Kurt's mouth moves on to kiss a line along the twitching muscles of his chest and Blaine is strangely torn between the fleeting feeling of loss and wanting this exploration just as much. Head tilting to the side, he brings a flushed cheek down onto the cool of the covers for comfort.

A breeze of motion then absence hits Blaine as Kurt sits up a bit for a moment. Then Kurt's hand, on the side where he's been pressed against Blaine, comes down onto Blaine's as if to soothe, uncurling Blaine's fingers out of the sheet he's been clasping between their hips, intertwining Kurt's with them instead, next to both their bodies.

And Blaine doesn't now if the stumble of his heart is due to the simple sweetness of the gesture, or if the glance he stole at Kurt through lowered lashes made it skip a beat in anticipation. Adoration. Maybe all of it.

Kurt's fingers tangled in between his renew their grip then, and Kurt brings their joined hands up, guiding the back of Blaine's hand down unto the covers a little over and to the side of Blaine's head.

Blaine holds his breath, but his acknowledgement of the movement vanishes in the deep, languid kiss Kurt accords to his lips, as all of him vanishes inside it. The small noise Kurt makes into his mouth is given back generously, and passed on in a shiver across their bodies. That. That, forever, nothing else, and Blaine will be happy.

But Kurt breaks the lock of their lips. Too soon for Blaine's liking, yet Kurt swiftly compensates by concentrating his attentions to Blaine's chest once more.

Blaine hums his agreement and so much more, when Kurt's mouth grazes his nipple once again, then traces up and beyond, Kurt's head dipping to the side, licking along tendons, where chest merges into shoulder.

Blaine's eyebrows shoot up and his knees jerk involuntarily, bend, then stretch. Partly because Kurt chooses this moment to bring down his lower body onto him, hitching a leg across Blaine's lap, followed by, oh god, those hips settling... but then even that awareness strangely pales in comparison when Kurt's probing tongue pushes onto the sensitive skin of his inner arm. Just where his bicep begins, with Kurt's chin brushing the hollow below.

Blaine's eyes close in a gasp, light and colours flashing across the insides of his lids, the sheer sensation taking his breath. And opening a direct connection to his cock, for all it seems, because all the electric shivers that chase down his skin end up nothing but adding to the growing need for contact and friction boiling up down there.

Kurt uses his teeth sliding down along the muscle to lap at Blaine's side and Blaine's lungs are suddenly empty. He clasps at Kurt's hand way too tightly, letting loose, only to dig his fingernails in again, back pressing into the sheets.

Kurt's mouth doesn't go further, then, or deeper in, be it because of Kurt's own inhibitions, or not to scare Blaine off... Even if Blaine cannot fathom what right now, or what ever could scare him off, because this... just this. Just god.

The sound he's been making changes into something still breathy but lower again, and Kurt's lips leave, as he looks up over the gasps of surprise and wonder and more leaving Blaine's throat.

"What?" Blaine blinks several times to get his sight to clear up again, when Kurt's voice reaches him. His boyfriend has turned wide eyes at him, matching his tone torn between rapt fascination and innocent question. Blaine swallows. Yet there's a glint in the depth of Kurt's eyes that suggests that his Kurt's mouth not totally by accident went... where it just went.

Blaine's expression must display his utter tardiness with wrapping his mind around it all, because Kurt's shallow breaths become a chuckle. A perfectly trimmed eyebrow cocks up at Blaine:

"Yes?" Kurt offers the syllable with an amused flicker in his eyes. Blaine's lips purse to form a word, then twitch. Is Kurt really asking if Blaine liked what he just did? Does he honestly have to? His head falls back into the pillows and he is nodding before the words blurt out:

"Oh, god, yes." Blaine's own voice sounds strange to him, amazement and disbelief battling in it. He can detect surprise and embarrassment over the vehemence of his answer as well, already showing below. But maybe that's simply because he knows they're there. He bites his lip.

"How... how did you know?" It's barely more than a breathless croak, but the sight of Kurt blushing at the question, so suddenly, typically, adorably, this contrast of daring and shy that is so very Kurt, has Blaine forget the shortcomings of his own grip on composure. Kurt tilts his head, only glancing at Blaine through lowered lashes:

"Someone once told me... kissing armpits can be kind of a turn on..." He shrugs then, but it's Blaine who feels suddenly at a complete loss, head still reeling in the echoes, the impact and momentum of Kurt's mouth on him. And now those words.

Questions rush in on him, but seem to bounce, glide off of the sheer reality of the fact in Kurt's statement. Of course. And why not. But... How can it be that he has not known? And, wait...Who...? And how? Not to mention why...

"Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaine?" There's a jumble of limbs when Blaine sees Kurt jump at the resounding female voice, and he responds doubly in kind just for that.

A frantic glance shoots to the door on impulse, Blaine's heart leaping to his throat, and his stomach flutters with the sudden retreat of blood. But thank god, the door's still closed.

Blaine presses his lips together.

Well, of course it is, he locked it, didn't he? His mom's shout obviously came from downstairs.

Downstairs. Blaine repeats the words in a loop until he feels remotely in control again, trying to remember what he's expected to do now, and if he should just call back from where he is, before his mom can decide to come up check on them.

He tardily looks down his body, and how he's sitting bolted up stiffly on the bed, Kurt opposite of him, leaning back on his heels after having hurried out of Blaine's lap.

And suddenly, raising his voice like that seems somewhat stupid to him. So child-like.

So Blaine blushes some more, grumbles, and climbs off the mattress, knees shaky with the aftershock of the interruption.

He stalks to the door, a hitch in his step.

Kurt obviously has recovered enough to giggle at that.

Blaine huffs with a pointed glance back, then blows out his breath and turns the key in the lock as soundlessly as possible.

"Yes, mom?" His voice is restraint, still colouring with so many things, when he calls through a narrow gap, holding the door only slightly ajar.

His mom doesn't seem to notice, though, tone as light as possible in a shout:

"Blaine, good, I just wanted to let you know, dinner's ready so far, but Judy has just called, she needs me for some last minute adjustments... so I told her I'd be over, quickly... I'll be back in an half an hour, or so, 40 minutes tops, I promise, and then we can eat..."

The end of her announcement rises like a question. Blaine's forehead hits the cool wood of the door frame with a small thud that makes Kurt snicker again.

He takes a second to adjust and arrange the information of his mother's words in his still hazy head, rubbing his cheeks with an erratic set of moves.

Then he clears his throat, hoping his voice will not let on the agitation that is surely still written all over his face: "Of course. Yeah, sure, that sounds great."

His mom seems pleased enough:

"Okay then. This shouldn't take too long. I've made pasta salad, hope Kurt likes that, too?"

When Blaine doesn't immediately answer, raising his brows for no one to see, she simply adds: "Alright, then, I'll call for you, when I'm back."

"Yeah, Mom." A terse cough follows his words, and then he listens to the clicks of her heels echoing through the hall.

Then it's silent.

Except for the low music still playing from his speakers.

And Kurt's soft laugh behind him.

Blaine blinks his bewilderment, mind still mostly refusing to catch up with what has just gone down.

His hand finds support on the door frame, when he turns.

He meets his boyfriend's eyes across the room. Finds them smiling.

And even if the frown stays on his forehead, Blaine's shoulders relax and slump a little just for that, a deep breath leaving his lungs, as he closes the door.