Kurt Hummel didn’t like to beg.

When he and Blaine were in those heated, yet somehow still intimate moments, he would try to compose himself, at first. Then a whimper would escape his throat, then a moan of Blaine; and Blaine wouldn’t take that lightly, bringing out the tip of his tongue to trace along an earlobe, or opening warm, wet lips to whisper in a tone barely above a growl.

“You’re such a turn-on, you know that? Lying here, trying to control yourself – do you have any idea,” Blaine punctuated his words with a sharp nip to Kurt’s neck, “-how hard you make me? I think about it when I’m alone, Kurt. The sounds you make. The way you taste, way you feel under my hands. It’s all I can do to control myself when you’re there. I don’t know how you manage it.”

Kurt still had some semblance of control at this point, breath coming in quick bursts as Blaine moved his hands in firm, teasing strokes over his cock, mapping out his body with a mouth of the same character. Pressing teeth and tongue into a crease in Kurt’s thigh, Blaine sucked lightly, squeezing around the head of Kurt’s cock, and making Kurt squirm and clench the bed sheets to avoid letting out the stream of words that was currently flowing through his mind.

Fuck, fuck oh god Blaine, he knows what he’s doing, oh god, that bastard-

Kurt’s vision completely whited out as soft, wet heat enveloped his cock, his mouth falling open almost comically wide as Blaine’s tongue swirled around him, hands blindly finding their way to soft, dark curls that threaded easily through his fingers. Jerking his hips up shallowly, testing the water, Kurt began to gently fuck Blaine’s mouth, each thrust a little deeper than the last.

Head thrown back in utter pleasure, Kurt freed one hand and pulled it down to where Blaine’s was rested on his thigh, pressing small patterns into his skin, and linked them together. Blaine squeezed back, guiding their hands up to Kurt’s chest and laying them to rest above his heart, letting go and feeling a crazed, tell-tale pulse scatter wildly under his outstretched palm.

Kurt looked down, meeting Blaine’s gaze, and felt a pang of something almost like regret sweep through him. Kurt knew Blaine loved getting him off, but with end-of-year exams coming up, and Kurt moving to New York within the next six months, they’d hardly had any time to be intimate at all. And as graduation got closer, they’d be lucky to have the time to be KurtandBlaine, let alone intimate.

Without even really thinking about it, Kurt tugged gently at Blaine’s hair, twisting the curls around his fingers and pulling until Blaine’s head followed the action, pulling off Kurt’s cock with a soft, wet pop, almost nuzzling into Kurt’s touch.

Face flushed red and eyes watering, Blaine looked the picture of wanton debauchery; even so, he still had a small smirk on his face, the same smirk that appeared every time he found a new spot that made Kurt gasp, or blush, or come so hard he blacked out.

Kurt gulped, guiding Blaine’s head up to his, their mouths met in a wide kiss that lasted all of three seconds before Blaine’s tongue was entering his boyfriend’s mouth, tickling his palate and swallowing up the second moan of the night.

Breaking apart, Kurt rested his forehead on Blaine’s shoulder, gulping for air and squeezing the hand that had been firmly re-linked with his.

“What do you want, Kurt?”

A simple question, but whispered so quietly – so secretively – it sounded like Blaine was asking him to confess to murder.

Kneading the muscles of his shoulder, Kurt looked up, back at Blaine. The smirk was less pronounced; there was concern and adoration overshadowing, but it was still there.

So Kurt would have to beg, unless…

It was a challenge; almost a dare, lingering in Blaine’s eyes like a fire that refused to be put out.

Unless he made Blaine beg first.

Blaine had switched his gaze in favour of Kurt’s lips, kiss-swollen and red, bringing up a cautious thumb to them and wiping across the oversensitive flesh the same way he always did – like he couldn’t get enough of it.

Kurt would definitely have to make sure of that.

Pushing Blaine backwards, Kurt knelt forward and pressed his lips to Blaine’s heaving ribcage, licking and sucking at the olive skin until Blaine grappled at Kurt’s shoulders to pull him up for a sweet, yet tantalizingly heated kiss, and then Blaine was stuck.

Not literally, of course, because Kurt was moving around quite a bit and now was definitely not a good time to get stuck and make him stop.

Blaine felt he was losing his touch, and Kurt was steadily climbing ahead on the metaphorical ladder of I’m gonna make you come so hard, you’re gonna be begging, which Blaine didn’t really mind but god was he sick of losing.

It wasn’t such a bad thing to want to make Kurt feel good, right? Blaine was just fine and dandy sucking his cock until he’d been stopped and Kurt had looked into his eyes with that teasing, half-misty look in his eyes and kissed him until they were both panting for breath.

Blaine was well on his way to making Kurt beg – and not just some half-hearted uttering of please, he meant full-on, rutting-against-anything-you-can-reach begging – and then Kurt had started to play.

And Blaine knew that he had no chance of winning once Kurt started legitimately trying, but that didn’t mean he was going down without a fight (unless you mean literal going down, because if that was the case then by all means, Blaine won’t put up a bit of resistance).

“Blaine.” Kurt purrs, stroking a stray finger down the arch of his neck, pressing down just hard enough to turn Blaine’s skin white. “Look at me.”

Nearly shivering at Kurt’s tone of voice, Blaine snaps his head down just in time to see the look on Kurt’s face before he grips his hips and grinds down – almost innocent, like the moment of suspense where a cat dangles it’s prey overhead, soundlessly observant before going in for the kill.

“I want to fuck you,” Kurt exhales, and suddenly each one of Blaine nerves has a mind of it’s own, because they’re all going in different directions and none of them seem to be listening to his brain.

“–want to feel you all hot and tight around my fingers, god, you think I’m hot?”

Kurt halts his thrusting for a moment, and Blaine can feel his cock groan.

Reaching underneath his knees, Kurt pushes Blaine’s legs back until Blaine’s gripping at his thighs with sweaty hands and lowers his head down, not even bothering to focus anywhere but Blaine’s ass.

“Yeah?” Blaine can’t do much more but pant that out.

Kurt reaches down, trailing a light, barely-there tease of a finger down his crack and pushes his cheeks apart.

“Try speaking for yourself.”

And then Kurt can’t really talk anymore because his tongue’s in Blaine’s ass, licking and kissing and Blaine doesn’t really know where one moan ends and another begins, and then Kurt’s legitimately lapping at him, sucking and moaning a little higher-pitched than Blaine but just as loud, and Blaine just can’t take it anymore.

“Pl-“

He tries to get it out, he really does, but the second Kurt hears his voice he growls a little against his hole and pushes his head back off the bed by the back of his knees, and Blaine knows they’ve tried this position a few times when fucking because Blaine kind of always had a thing for vulnerability and rushes of blood to the head, but he didn’t think Kurt would be this cruel now.

The warm, wet pressure on his hole suddenly disappears, and Blaine whines, clenching the sheets and rutting at the air.

“What was that, pookie?”

Blaine has to look up at that just to see the look on Kurt’s face (which is all tinged with pink and wild hair and Blaine really just can’t handle that right now), and answers him with a broken moan.

“Please.”

“Please what, Blaine?”

Blaine has to drop his head down just so he can get the answer out without sounding like a damaged sex toy halfway through his sentence.

“Please make me come, oh god, Kurt, I-I’m so fucking hard for you, Kurt, please –”

The last thing he registers is poor thing before soft, firm, sucking heat envelops his cock and all his nerves and his brain and white-hot relief is pumping through his veins for a few glorious seconds before he passes out.

Kurt sucks him through it, draining every last drop before releasing Blaine’s cock and quickly wrenching his own orgasm out (it’s not that hard, really, because he just won again).

Pulling his unconscious boyfriend up towards the pillows, Kurt cleans himself off and wraps a blanket around the both of them, snuggling Blaine against his chest until he comes to.

“Hi.” Kurt says softly, and even with the both of them lying there, sweaty and a little sticky and overall the picture of debauchery, Blaine doesn’t think he’s ever been more in love.

“Hi,” he whispers back, leaning into the crook of Kurt’s neck and mouthing sensually at the skin there, his hands skimming at Kurt’s sides like a stone about to slide gracelessly into a lake.

“I love you.”

And Blaine's said it more times than anyone would want to count since that first time a year ago in the Lima Bean, but he knows he can’t really say it enough.

“I love you too.”

Kurt won’t tell anyone, but he wants say it a thousand times, so he has to keep count.

He can’t tell Blaine, because that’d mean Blaine would be winning at something.

Maybe he’ll tell him when he carries him over the threshold of their apartment in New York together, laughing and smiling and kissing Kurt breathlessly giddy until Blaine’s taken him on every surface available and even some of the walls, because by then he's just breathless.

Maybe he’ll tell him as a cheer-me-up after a bad day of work one afternoon as their children’s laughs ring through the hall.

Maybe he’ll tell him in a series of great romantic gestures, or in a letter each day for a year, maybe more.

Blaine’s stilled the movement of his hands, at he’s muttering at Kurt’s neck, asking if he’s okay.

Kurt looks down at him, at the bright brown eyes that he fell in love with, and decides.

Maybe I’ll just tell him now.

After all, they have the rest of their lives to get even; he’s only saying goodbye to a little secret, anyway.

So, tilting his head down and brushing his lips against Blaine’s, he whispers the winning words into his mouth, kisses it in to make sure and calls it a tie.