The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a pool of gold. As he focused he could see the hazel flecks swimming lazily in Blaine's eyes. It didn't occur to him to be confused or startled as to why Blaine was so close to him. They were extensions of each other. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up with some part of Blaine pressed into his face. There was that memorable time when Blaine had decided to climb into his bed in the middle of the night and Kurt awoke with Blaine's toe twitching on his cheek.

So Kurt wasn't concerned when he woke up to Blaine blinking owlishly at him. He opened his mouth to calmly tell him to get back in his own bloody bed, and Blaine swiftly shoved his tongue down his throat.

It was messy and wet and hot and so good and so very unexpected. In the back of his mind, Kurt knew that he should be doing several things right now, namely stop kissing his best friend and ask why on earth Blaine woke up and decided to be gay, but none seemed nearly as important as the warm body on top of him breathing hot air into his mouth.

Moments seemed endless as they kissed, tongues battling despite their inexperience and hands roving of their own accord. It was a heady swim of emotion and feeling and the taste of Blaine and the soft moans they were both giving off and nothing quite punctured that haze until Blaine shoved his hand down Kurt's pajama pants.

It was as if the fabulous fog of making out that had crept in his brain was blown away and all he could think was oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god OH MY GOD MY BEST FRIEND HAS HIS HAND ON MY DICK.

He tried to form words to tell Blaine to stop, that he didn't have to do this, that oh god if he didn't do something right now he would die; but all that escaped his lips was a small breathless whimper.

His best friend grinned from above him as if Kurt had just told him a good joke, instead just whimpered like a whore and thrust up into his hand a little. Licking his lips, Blaine rocked back on his heels and finally bought his fingers to form a fist around Kurt's erection.

He nearly lost it right there and then, with the warm circle surrounding him and Blaine's conceited grin.

He lay there paralysed, utterly confused and terrified of moving even an inch, lest it create friction and make him lose control.

Kurt Hummel was always in control. Always.

From above him, Blaine smirked like he could hear Kurt's thoughts and twisted his wrist just a tiny tiny bit. That tiny tiny bit of movement felt like agony and bliss all wrapped up in one to Kurt.

"Just let go."

At Blaine's whisper, he felt the fear and resistance melt out of him. Blaine's smirk softened into a genuine smile as Kurt finally began to leisurely thrust into Blaine's hand, closing his eyes and letting the sensations wash over him.

It was easy, he vaguely thought, easy to be like this with Blaine. The questions he had before didn't matter. He trusted everything he was to this man, and if that meant that occasionally he was going to wake up and end up with Blaine jerking him off, so be it. That was the price of their friendship.

And what a price it was.

He could feel it starting, the familiar build up when everything in his body started being unable to take it anymore. He could feel the tensing, the gentle wave of shivers that worked their way around his body. His hips started stuttering in their thrusts, so close that all bets were off. Finally, in moments that seems stretched out and endlessly repeating, he came, muffling his whimpers by biting his lip.

"Happy Birthday," Blaine said as he pulled his hand away and got off the bed.

Kurt opened his eyes for the first time it what seemed like eons. Blaine, once again, was staring intently at him.

"You okay, Kurt?" He looked nervous and confused, one hand relentlessly pushing through his hair.

Kurt fought the temptation to teasingly reply and just shrugged. "Yeah. Why?"

Blaine bit his lip. "Well you were just like whimpering and moaning in your sleep just before. I wanted to check you were okay. Happy birthday, by the way." Then he was off Kurt's bed and traipsing to the shower, leaving him alone with a growing realisation and sticky sheets.

Fuck.