A few weeks later, Kurt is getting ready to go out on the town. The girls who lived on the floor directly above him had ambushed him in the stairway one day, after hearing him sing along to the Wicked soundtrack (his roommate had never materialized – he was told he had a room to himself, for now.) Caroline and Jenna seem sweet. Giggly – and they could definitely use some make-up tips, because the Amy Winehouse look is just  not flattering to their bone structure – but definitely sweet. It made him feel less lonely, to come home to silly notes written on the message board on his door, they were there to eat breakfast in the dining commons – they were just there. And it was lovely.

Tonight, they were headed out to a show – getting dressed up and everything. Kurt was just walking back to his room from the shower when his two new friends came skidding down the hallway towards him.

“Eyeliner help? Please? Blue, green or black?” Caroline held up 3 pencils.

Kurt swiped them out of her hands, sauntering towards his room. “Is this the ensemble we're going with this evening? The clothes are darling, but what are we really trying to say?”

“Say?”

Kurt unlocked his door, ushering the girls in ahead of him. “You're wearing adorable. Simple, and cute. Are we going for innocent young thing visits the big city, or naughty librarian? Because, in my opinion, the librarian really should have liquid liner – unless you'd like to do a smokey eye.”

Jenna grabbed the photo of him and Blaine from his bedside, and flung herself on the spare bed. “And how's Dreamboat this evening?”

“Still gay, darling, still gay.”

Jenna chortled. “Damn. A girl can dream, though, right?”

“Dream all you like.” Kurt was amused, “He's taken. And, you know, gay.”

Kurt quickly dressed while the girls ostentatiously looked away – cuddling on the spare bed – Kurt had his opinions on what might be happening with these two. He took out his box of toiletries – shelf-space was at a premium in this tiny shoebox of a room; he kept his essentials out on his dresser, but things like his Special Occasion cologne – Gucci Pour Homme – had to be kept elsewhere. As he lifted the cardboard box out, he realized it was heavier than usual. He carefully opened the top – and saw the bottle was wrapped in paper.

Unfolding the paper, he recognized Blaine's bold handwriting.

I love this scent on you.

This was not surprising. Blaine was always complimenting him on his scent.

I love the way your chest smells when you wear it. It smells even better when mixed with your sweat.

Kurt destested sweating. The only time it was remotely okay was when--

It smells even better when that all mixes with my sweat. And the taste of it on my tongue makes me want to...

Good Lord. Was this some sort of.....sort of....sex letter?

Kurt skimmed the next paragraph – the message went on for several pages. It appeared to be a heat-to-toe reckoning of Blaine's opinion of this cologne and the body parts it should be found on.

...the taste of your thighs.

SWEET JESUS. Kurt flushed scarlet, sweat beading on his forehead, and an uncomfortable reminder that his new skinny jeans had very little give in certain areas.

The start of the next page – cupping my hands down and through

...silky smooth skin under...

Kurt carefully placed the letter in the top drawer, slammed it shut. He glanced in the mirror – hair still perfectly coifed, but with brightly flushed cheeks. He'd have to read the rest later.

And then he'd call Blaine.

Five hours later, Kurt arrived back in his room. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see snippets of Blaine's bold handwriting on the page. He took the letter back out of his drawer, settled himself comfortably on his bed and began to read again.

licking...sucking...tasting...

...under you, gazing...

...close my eyes as you fill...

...chest heaving beneath my palms...

...moaning around my...

...holding your face in both my hands while I...

...your lips swollen and satiated...

Kurt was embarrassed. Aroused, yes. But slightly embarrassed. He giggled constantly during the first read through. The second time through, he was able to read more than just a few words at a time without whooping in flustered laughter. The third time, he was amazed that Blaine felt these things for him and about him, could articulate these thoughts, could transfer them to paper, could trust Kurt to share them with him.

By the fourth time through, he was definitely not embarrassed any more. He was definitely impressed with his boyfriend's extensive vocabulary and sense of literary exposition, definitely aroused, and definitely about to call him on the phone.

“Hi baby” Blaine's voice sounded frazzled. Kurt thought he could hear a pencil scribbling against paper.

“Caller ID?”

“Ring tone.” Blaine's tone seemed to relax, just slightly. “What are you doing on this rainy, awful, cold Sunday evening?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice. You sound frustrated...”

“Chemistry midterm tomorrow. I was pretty sure I had it all down, then I re-read the textbook, and now I'm pretty sure everything I ever knew about Chemistry is a lie. GAH!” Kurt knew Blaine was scrubbing one hand through his curls. “Nothing's making sense any more.”

“Then you should definitely take a break...”

“Yeah. You're right.” Kurt heard the sound of a book being slammed shut. He could picture Blaine at his desk in his bedroom, the dark green walls soaking in the light from his desk lamp. He heard the creak of Blaine's chair rocking back, and thought he'd swung his feet up on the desk.

“So, tell me, baby, what are you doing this rainy awful cold Sunday evening?”

“It's not raining here. I just got back from a show with Caroline and Jenna. We dressed up – the girls have classic style, I'll give them that. Grabbed a bite to eat, saw an off-off-Broadway play, had coffee, got shouted at by cab drivers. It was very New York.”

“That sounds like fun. Tell me about the show.”

“I'd rather tell you about the pre-show. And, perhaps,the post-show.” Kurt's voice dropped into a purr.

“...ooookay.” Blaine chuckled. Kurt heard his chair rock again, picturing Blaine settling himself more comfortably, stretching one arm and holding it behind him, resting his palm on the back of his head. “What was the “pre-show” like?”

“I told you, we dressed up. It was a Special Occasion.”

“Yeah? Oh. Ohhhh.” Blaine laughed low and deep in his throat – the laugh that made Kurt want to climb on top of him and do dirty naughty things. And that was even before reading that letter. “So...you liked it?”

“Well, I've heard of phone sex. I've heard of cyber sex. But what is it when it's a letter?"

“Romantic,” Kurt could almost hear the roguish grin on Blaine's face.

“Romantic?” Kurt tried to think of something witty, slightly cutting to come back with, but couldn't. He sighed “Romantic. Yes, it indubitably was. And hot as hell, I must say.”

Blaine laughed softly again as his chair creaked again; Kurt pictured him leaning forward again, elbows on his desk – maybe resting his forehead on the fingers of one hand while he drew patterns on the classically designed ink blotter on his desk.

“So, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt purred again. “What are you wearing?”

A louder laugh from Blaine again. “I guess I should have been expecting this call...umm...I'm wearing --- wait. Am I supposed to tell you what I'm really wearing, or some sort of special sexy-time sexy sexy outfit.”

“Sexy sexy outfit?” Kurt laughed, breaking character. “I don't know! Umm...why don't you tell me what you're actually wearing.”

“Blue plaid flannel pajama pants and a gray t-shirt.”

“A baggy gray t-shirt?”

“Of course not.”

“So, it's clinging tightly to your shoulders?”

“...clinging tightly to my shoulders?” Blaine breathed a laugh. “I suppose, yes? I can't see my shoulders. Why?”

“I find your shoulders incredibly attractive.”

“Well, thank you. Your shoulders are incredibly attractive as well.”

“And your hips--”

“Kurt! I just spent the last 3 hours reviewing ionic bonding diagrams. My brain has not switched gears yet!” Blaine sounded flustered.

“Just work with me here, love.” Kurt cleared his throat and dropped his voice again “I can switch your gears for you.”

Blaine burst out laughing. “It's amazing to me that you can make anything sound dirty with that tone of voice.”

“I can make you sound dirty,” Kurt purred again.

“Yes. Yes, you can, baby. Absolutely. Whenever you want. Whenever you say.” Blaine had the giggles.

“Then I say, now!" Kurt was grinning. "Now, what's your idea of a – what was it? – a sexy sexy outfit?”

“I honestly have no idea. Whatever it is, if it's really a sexy sexy outfit, you're not going to be wearing for very long, are you..."

“Good point.”

“Sooo, what are you wearing, Mr. Hummel?”

“That's my dad's name. Don't bring him up now.”

“Sorry.” Blaine's voice dropped to the lower growl Kurt loved. “What are you wearing, baaaaby?”

“Oh, that's nice. That's very nice. Gray trousers, gray vest, blue shirt”

“Very nice,” Blaine burst out laughing. “I just can't do this. Not with a straight face.”

“Straight faces have never worked out for us – your laugh is one of the sexiest things about you....Wait, is your computer up?

“My computer? Yes?”

“Skype!”

A few minutes later, Kurt is pounding the heel of his hand against a poor defenseless non-working webcam while simultaneously staring anxiously and longingly at the wide golden eyes of his boyfriend on the computer screen.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he grumbled into the phone. “I don't get why neither the camera or the mike is working...” He scowled again at his non-functioning webcam “Well, at least I can see you...”

“Hiiiii, Baby!” Blaine's nose crinkled as he grinned widely and waved into the camera. Such a complete dork. But such a beautiful dork, Kurt thought. Blaine had the phone held in one hand, head tilted as he looked into the camera smiling that warm and gentle smile that he oftened seemed to forget was on his face when he looked at Kurt.

“Okay, Kurt. Now what?”

Kurt giggled. “I have no earthly idea. But we're going to find out. I see you were honest about your pajamas – and I must say I thoroughly approve of that shirt and what it accentuates about your pectoral muscles.”

Blaine's smile changed, became a small grin, a challenge, as his eyes darkened. He reached up with his free arm, caught the neck of his t-shirt – Kurt's breath caught in his throat good lord, will you look at the arm muscles on that boy, and oh god whatever muscle that is to the side of his ribcage – and pulled it up and over his head in one fluid motion. He tossed the t-shirt to the floor next to him, and grinned as he put the phone back to his ear.

“And what was it you were saying about my pectoral muscles?” Kurt could hear Blaine's grin – saucy and more than a bit audacious – as well as see it. Blaine only grinned like that for him, for Kurt, when he wanted to shake Kurt up, to rock him from his standard state of nonchalance. Kurt found it incredibly sexy – it was exciting to know Blaine was going to do that – to surprise him in ways he'd never thought about. Usually, it involved tongues and the removal of clothing. And Kurt, having changed out of his tight pants into something with more room for manoeuvering , was just fine with that.

“I was saying...” Kurt paused as Blaine suddenly lurched forward, seeming to scrabble at something on the floor at his feet. “Baby, what are you doing?”

Blaine's face turned up to the camera, grinned and held up the large white wool sock he just taken off, all balled up. “I'm a studious young man home alone studiously doing studious things, it's cold in here and I am dressed for the occasion. But socks are not sexy. At least, not these.” He tossed the socks into his laundry basket overhand, the throw showcasing that dear god that group of muscles on his side what are they called other than the place I'd most like my tongue to be right now

Kurt was undeniably horny. It felt so good not to deny it any more.

“In the interest of fairplay, I'm going to take my shirt off as well.”

“Well, it is only fair.” Blaine smirked.

Kurt's voice was muffled as he pulled the phone away – Blaine could hear him the light crunch as he replaced the lid of his wicker laundry basket.

“Okay, I'm back.” Kurt sounded breathless.

“Well, I have been sitting in this chair for hours now – probably giving myself the beginnings of varicose veins – so I am taking you someplace more comfortable.” He switched off his desk lamp, dousing his room in vague shadows with only his bedside lamp lit.

The picture on Kurt's computer spun as Blaine lifted his laptop, though it did give him a rather oddly lit, though drool-inducing, closeup of his left nipple as he carried it across the room – that nipple, which Kurt knew, turned instantly hard when Kurt flicked it with his tongue and would encite a long slow shuddering breath from Blaine – the picture wobbled again as Blaine sat down on the bed next to the computer, adjusting the screen so his face was in frame again.

He smiled sweetly, still gently holding the phone to his ear and whispered “Hi baby. I want you here so badly right now.”

Kurt whispered back “Me too.”

And now for his plan. He was going to read that letter back to Blaine, was going to form those luscious words in his mouth and pour them all over Blaine's body, hot and wet and raunchy and oh lord I want him I want him I want him and his tongue and his hands and his everything --

Blaine was still looking softly at the screen, laying the laptop on the bed next to him, phone to his ear, scooting himself down on his side and burrowing a little bit in his pillows. His eyes got wider, golden eyes turning darker as his pupils dilated with desire, as he heard Kurt's voice in his ear, murmuring those words – words of such love and promise mixed in with such erotic images, all wrapped up into one thing that was just them, love and innocence and lust and sweetness and light and raunchy suggestive salacious devotion to each other.

Blaine's mouth was slightly open by the time Kurt reached the second page, a hectic flush burning high on his cheekbones. Switching to the hands-free option on his phone, Kurt's eyes flickered between the page he was reading and watching his boyfriend's face becoming more and more turned on as he listened, knowing that his body was following suit.

...your legs twining around me...

...your hair tickling my stomach as you...

...hands gripping my arms, pressing me down into...

When Blaine began licking and chewing at his lips, squirming slightly, Kurt could tell what he really wanted to be doing. He could be flippant, he could be silly. Instead, he paused in his reading to whisper “Are you touching yourself?”

With all the shifting Blaine been doing, all Kurt could see of him was from the chest up. The stillness of Blaine's shoulders – those shoulders covered in that golden skin that feels so soft and full of light under my lips – told him he wasn't. Not yet.

“No.” Blaine smiled ruefully at the camera.

“Why not? I am.”

Blaine's breath left him in a rush, as he quickly rolled to his back. Kurt could see his chest muscles shift as his hands dropped out of sight. Blaine's eyes closed as Kurt watched his arm muscles begin to work frantically.

“But we need to go slowly. We've got four more pages.”

“Four?” Blaine was lying on his back now, head and shoulders heartbreakingly framed in perfection in the screen. “Who the hell wrote four more pages of this?” His shoulders still bunched in rhythm, but slower, more deliberate.

“You did. And they're big pages too.”

“I thought they were done torturing me by the time I finished writing them.”

Kurt's own hands continued to move on his body. His voice was slightly breathless as he continued to read. Though he and Blaine have had sex as often as they can, it's always been a mutual undertaking. He's never seen Blaine touching himself, alone, without Kurt's help and he finds it incredibly hot.

...your fingers find my mouth and I suck...

...tangled and pulling...

...you roll over and smile at me as I...

“We're almost at the end of the letter, baby.”

Blaine's head lolls languidly to the side, like he doesn't quite have the ability to control it properly and he ghosts a smile at the camera, his eyes dark and scorching. “I know. I'm the one who wrote it.”

When Kurt interrupts his reading again, his voice is breathless and low and rough. “This letter, it tortured you to write?”

Blaine's face is tipped toward the ceiling, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Kurt can see his shoulders and chest muscles rippling as he works faster and harder -- definitely breathless now and he doesn't turn to face the camera, just speaks into the air. “The good kind. Every time I had a dream about you or --oh fuck I can't quite – or did this or you know -- oh my god Kurt I want you I fucking want you please – thought about you in your jeans or how you smile at me – oh god Kurt I'm so close Kurt I needIneed Kurt – I'd write it down after I was finished.”

“Finished what, baby?” Kurt's voice was ragged and teasing.

“Finished jerking off, Kurt” Blaine's eyes seared into Kurt as he boldly glanced into the camera – stated it baldly, knowing how Kurt got off on blunt passion, knowing if he were in the same room as Blaine, he'd vault from whatever he'd been doing to fiercely and frantically kissing him, tangling their tongues and licking –

“And what do you think about when you're jerking off?”

“You” Blaine's voice was caught between a whine and a moan. “Oh god, you always you – What the fuck do you think that letter is? Oh christ oh godohgodKurt please”

Kurt gasping, “Blaine. Oh Blaine I want --” his voice catches in his throat.

Kurt could feel the ramping up, could feel the building intensity he just had to climb a little bit higher get a little bit more to the top just work a little bit more and then he'd be able to let go and the pulse that would shudder that means he can breath deeply again and keep shuddering and pulsing through his eyelids and down his entire body let go let go and he doesn't have to worry about the free falling into nothingness because Blaine was there to catch him and hold him close, always.

“Blaine,” he pants as his orgasm rolls over him, “Oh god Blaine I love you so very much.”

Kurt hears a hitch in the breathing the other end of the line, hears his name growled in slow motion, and forces his eyes open so he can see his boyfriend, his lover, his love, come.

Blaine's neck arches, slamming his head back into the pillow, as his orgasm hits, his whole body convulses, his arm holding the phone flinging it wide, head and shoulders rolling and lifting off the bed, wrenching him into a near sitting position before crashing back down, eyes closed and whole body tremoring.

After a few minutes where neither of them can do anything but try to breathe, Kurt sees that thought Blaine's still breathing heavily through his nose, his arms are moving, scrabbling – Kurt guesses one part clean-up, one part looking for the phone. He rolls to face the computer, his eyes still closed as he fumblingly drags the phone back up to his ear.

His eyelids with their long dark lashes, slowly, languidly open. His golden eyes are soft and dreamy as he looks at Kurt and Kurt is certain his heart is going to burst into a million pieces when he sees Blaine's smile.

The next morning, an urgent overnight delivery package arrives for Kurt. In it is a brand new portable webcam with built in speaker, it's box stating 'NOW WITH IMPROVED RELIABILITY!”

A computer generated gift card with it reads “Tonight? ~B.”