His cock was being mouthed, licked, and then taken deep into a deliciously tight mouth.
�
Kurt waited while his eyes adjusted to the darkened room until he can make out Blaine's naked form humming against his erection, setting a quick pace. Kurt groaned, slipping his hands down, gripping Blaine's curls.
�
“Blaine...Blaine...oh my god...yes...”
�
Blaine redoubled his efforts, quickly bringing Kurt to the edge, savoring the feeling of Kurt in his mouth, humming in his contentment and stroking the base of his cock with fervor. He gave a quick twist of his wrist, sucking hard, tonguing quickly at Kurt's slit causing Kurt to moan Blaine's name in the most pornographic way (which Blaine wanted to record and play over and over) and come down his waiting throat.
�
Blaine licked his lips, easing himself up the bed and kissing Kurt dirtily, all tongue and teeth.
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“Um, thank you?” Kurt whispered.
�
“I have always wanted to do that...I'm sorry if it was too forward or-”
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“Oh fuck no, Blaine. That was incredibly hot. I've never had that happen before, so...”
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“So many firsts tonight,” murmured Blaine, squeezing Kurt and snuggling in close and then, a whisper, “I love you.”
�
“I love you Blaine.”
�
***
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The next time Kurt wakes sunlight is streaming in from the window above the bed and Kurt is alone. He tries to revel in the previous night's events but a nagging itch in his brain is asking where Blaine is. If he changed his mind. If the light of day has made him realize that Kurt may not be the right man for him because he sleeps too late or something completely random like that.
�
Oh my god, how do people DO relationships and not lose their minds? he has the time to think before he hears footsteps in the hall and the door swings open revealing Blaine, shirtless and newly showered, water still clinging to his hair and red-and-white plaid pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips. He is carrying Kurt's overnight bag and sets it down gently, turning his attention to Kurt and crawling across the bed to drape himself over Kurt's body.
�
Ok, so Kurt had been wrong.
�
“Good morning, you,” Blaine muffles against his chest, curling up next to Kurt, wet hair against Kurt's warm skin.
�
“Good morning to you, too,” Kurt laughs, pushing Blaine's drippy hair away. “How are you up so early? It's a vacation day, why are we-”
�
Blaine quiets him with his lips, a gentle reminder of everything they've shared in the last 12 hours, and Kurt's eyes flutter closed, letting Blaine lead him where he may.
�
Blaine pulled away after but a moment and Kurt's eyes opened to shining amber, Blaine's face alight with mischief.
�
“First of all,” Blaine began, running his fingers over Kurt's stomach, prickling his skin with goose bumps, “I usually arrive at my office at 7am – 7:30 at the latest.”
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Kurt groaned at this. He set his own schedule and thus was never out of bed before 10am.
�
“AND,” Blaine continued, pressing a finger to Kurt's lips to shush him, “I had things to accomplish this morning. So listen.” Blaine sat up, cupping Kurt's face in his hands. “It would be convenient if you would come downstairs in about 20 minutes...I'm making us cinnamon rolls for breakfast – do you like those?” Kurt nodded as Blaine went on. “- and coffee of course, unless you would prefer tea because I have that, too. Anyway, they won't be ready until then so if you would like to shower you may, of course, and so I brought up your bag so you don't have to wander around naked (not that I wouldn't like it but I digress). I hope that you like this plan because if not I don't have another and we'll just have to think of something together.”
�
Kurt took in everything he said and just laughed, causing Blaine to look at him curiously, unsure if what he was doing was the right thing or if he was completely scaring Kurt away. Blaine took a deep breath and was about to begin again when Kurt has his turn to kiss Blaine quiet, running his hands down Blaine's naked torso, appreciating all that this man was.
�
When they pulled apart again, Kurt replied, “That all sounds wonderful, thank you, and I would love a shower.”
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Blaine exhaled a sigh of relief and smiled before standing up and vanishing again.
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Kurt may or may not have admired his ass as he walked away and then he shook his head in wonder as he got up to retrieve his bag and went to find the bathroom.
�
***
�
The cinnamon rolls were delicious, as was the coffee as both men sat comfortably on the living room sofa. Blaine had started a fire and it flickered and danced merrily as Kurt and Blaine enjoyed a comfortable silence as they ate. Kurt glanced up at his stocking and noticed with a jolt that it actually did have something in it. Anxiety prickled his skin as he wondered what to do. He had barely gotten Blaine anything. What if what he had done wasn't enough?
�
Blaine noticed him noticing the stocking and reached to hold Kurt's fingers, grounding him.
�
“Hey, don't do that. I see your face. You didn't know I was going to do this...and we even talked about no presents because everything is so new. But...I had to do something. And it's not that big of a deal, so...”
“Blaine,” Kurt countered, nerves eating at him and sounding more frustrated than he actually was, “You already gave me a gift. SO many gifts. The house decorated, the stocking...last night...”
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“Um, I believe that was a gift for me,” Blaine argued, smiling gently.
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Kurt laughed, softening.
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“Honestly, Blaine, still. It's too much. Gosh, I barely have anything for you. And I don't know if you could call it a gift, really...”
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Blaine chuckled, undeterred. “Trust me. You gave me plenty and I am not just talking about sex, Kurt.” There was the blush Kurt loved. “You have given me excitement, your amazing family, romance...the strength to finally choose the club over the firm-”
�
Kurt blinked. This was news to him. His face must've shown his shock because Blaine rushed on.
�
“- Yes, you. You are so strong, independent. You try new things and look back later and that may be a tad rash but it certainly works for you and you are living. LIVING, Kurt, not just existing. So yeah. Not only am I well laid-” Kurt laughed. “-I'm so, so happy. Content. For the first time in...ever. I have so much to thank you for so excuse me if I break out my thank you cards and give you gifts in return.”
�
Kurt crawled over to where Blaine was sitting, nuzzling his neck and situating himself in his boyfriend's lap. He heard Elora's voice saying it as he reveled in having the word to say.
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“Not that I don't love having you in my lap, but I want to give you your stocking now.” Blaine said, lifting Kurt up and off before standing to retrieve the aforementioned item and returning to sit and allow Kurt to return.
�
Kurt eyed him suspiciously before reaching into the stocking and taking out the one item inside. It was a box, brown and simple, with a gold bow attached to the lid. Blaine watched as he opened it, worrying at his bottom lip, hoping he had made the right choice; that Kurt would be flattered, not offended.
�
Kurt gasped as he opened the lid. Inside was a brooch – but like no other he had ever seen. It had a multitude of black and white stones threaded over gold undertones, with red rubies sprinkled in for good measure. It was unique, edgy, yet elegant in its construction. He didn't know quite what to say, so he just lifted his eyes to Blaine as in a question.
�
“It was my grandmother's,” came his voice, low and unsure yet filled with hope. “She owned it in the fifties...mod style my mother once told me. In keeping with your flawless fashion, I thought you would like it and I know you must have an outfit or two it would go with...” Blaine trailed off, his eyes hoping, biting again at his lips.
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“I love it,” murmured Kurt, “I mean, I honestly love it. It's perfect. Oh my god, it's perfect. What are we setting ourselves up for here, Blaine?” he laughed, sniffling because the present was just too much.
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Blaine laughed in return, all tension trailing away. “Oh, good! I thought that, well, since it was my grandmother's you may be offended but-”
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“Fashion has no gender, Blaine,” Kurt admonished him, attempting to look serious and almost succeeding.
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Blaine nodded seriously, eyes locked with Kurt's before they both collapsed with giggles, overjoyed to be together in the here and now. After they calmed down a bit Kurt stood to retrieve something from the kitchen and sank back down on the couch, handing Blaine an envelope.
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“What is it?” Blaine asked, turning the envelope over in his hands.
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“Well, we said no presents,” said Kurt, arching an eyebrow and looking pointedly around the room before continuing, “and this isn't really one but I worked all week on it, so...open it.”
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Blaine ripped open the envelope and read its contents, his face contorted, confused.
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“Expedia itinerary for Kurt Hummel,” he read in a questioning tone, “JFK to DAYTON, December 24, 2023. Ticket type: one way.”
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Kurt watched as it sank in, Blaine's face changing from confused, to awe, to delight and his eyes jumped up to Kurt's.
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“What? Explain! NOW!” he said, hopping on the couch and not even trying to conceal his excitement.
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“Well, we talked a few days ago and I knew before then that I was ready to come home, Blaine. The itch to change all the time; missing my family. Now that I'm writing I can do that anywhere and so I met with my agent and the producers and I can fly to New York occasionally between now and the show, but someone else is designing the sets and costumes – talented, wonderful new meat – and I'll be here. Loving you. And Elora. Dad was out and about this week, checking apartments in town and -”
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Blaine pulled him close, then, not needing to hear any more. They were here, together, and would be. They had time, precious time to explore each other, love each other. He couldn't have asked for a better gift.
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“It's perfect,” he whispered into Kurt's neck. “And it fits me just right.”
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And they were laughing again, two loons on a fancy couch.
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Blaine wiped his eyes and reached for his phone. There was someone for them to call.
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“Who are we calling?” asked Kurt.
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“We have someone to thank...just be ready to say Merry Christmas, okay?”
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Kurt climbed into his lap again as Blaine found the contact he was looking for and set the phone to speaker between them as it rang.
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“Hello?” came Santana's voice.
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“MERRY CHRISTMAS, SANTANTA!” they both yelled, trying not to laugh.
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“Oh, I fucking KNEW it!” she cried, and they collapsed into giggles on the couch, the fire snapping happily as snow continued to fall outside.
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