“You want me to do what?” Blaine nearly topples off the edge of the bed in shock, quick reflexes the only thing keeping him upright. He’s not sure he can believe his ears. Kurt blinks back at him calmly, his eyes as clear and innocent-looking as ever, as if he hadn’t just asked Blaine to…

“Tie me up,” Kurt repeats serenely.

Okay, so it seems he hadn’t been imagining things. Kurt really had said that. Okay.

“But…but… I mean… really?” he splutters, mind racing. “I… have you actually… are you…?”

He can’t calm his mind for long enough even to gather his thoughts. They’ve never discussed something like this. They’ve never even come close to discussing something like this. They’ve only just started out, and Kurt… Kurt.

“Blaine?” A warm hand falls onto his knee, breaking into the whirl of his thoughts. “Blaine? Are you okay? You look like you’re about to hyperventilate.”

Blaine takes a slow, deliberate breath and meets Kurt’s concerned gaze. “I’m okay,” he says. “Really, I am,” he adds when Kurt doesn’t look entirely convinced. “It’s just…”

His mind starts to flood again with possibilities and concerns. “Have you really thought this through? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t heard of the concept and I know that there are plenty of people that do it and there is absolutely nothing wrong with you for wanting it, but…” He pauses to breathe for a moment. “This is a lot. And I’m not saying that I don’t want to, because, well, I don’t actually know.” He shrugs a little. “I’ve never really thought about it one way or the other before, not, you know, about me, at least not seriously, but that’s sort of beside the… no, that sort of is the point.”

He covers Kurt’s hand on his leg with his own. “If we do this… I don’t have a clue what to do. I… You read about these things, where situations went wrong and someone ended up getting hurt, and I really don’t want to hurt you, Kurt. I could get the knots all wrong or something and end up cutting off your circulation and oh God then your hands would get gangrene and have to be amputated and I just really, really don’t want that to happen, and…” He knows he’s babbling, and is vaguely aware that he is possibly overreacting just a little bit, but he doesn’t know how to stop the stream of ever more fatalistic words from spilling from his lips.

“And what about if your dad comes home and I can’t get you untied and he comes in here and finds us like that and he will kill me for that, I just know he will, or at least ban me from seeing you ever again, even if you keep saying that he likes me really I don’t think he still would if he… hmm…”

His torrent of words is cut off abruptly as Kurt’s lips descend upon his own, the confusing wash of half-formed thoughts swirling through his mind replaced by the familiar sensations of Kurt’s kisses. He lets his eyes drift closed and leans into the kiss, shivering a little as Kurt’s tongue hits that spot on the roof of his mouth.

Kurt pulls back just as Blaine starts to shift forward to deepen the kiss; Blaine can’t help the high whine of protest that escapes his throat. Kurt, budding tease that he is, simply sits back, a slight smirk curving his mouth. “Have you calmed down, now?”

Blaine sucks in a breath and tilts his head, his eyebrows raised. “Kurt, you kissing me is never, ever, going to… calm me down.” He watches as Kurt’s eyes flicker downwards, just for a moment, the self-satisfied look remaining fixed on his face.

“Good to know,” he says, tone more casual than his expression would indicate. “It got you to shut up, though.”

He holds a hand up a second later, forestalling the panic that is seeping back into Blaine as he remembers just what they were talking about before the kiss. “I need you to believe me when I say you honestly have no reason to worry.” His eyes bore into Blaine’s.

Blaine wants to believe him, and he does believe that Kurt is confident in this, but he can’t help but remain rather more than a little nervous. He nods, though, hoping Kurt will expand on his statement.

“Right,” Kurt starts, wriggling a little closer and taking Blaine’s hands in his own. “Firstly, I didn’t expect you to miraculously know how to go about this.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I certainly didn’t, when I first started thinking about it. But I… did some research.” He colours slightly, the blush disappearing into the collar of his shirt.

Blaine is reminded of a previous conversation in this very room, months ago now – although it feels like longer. Is reminded of another blush. He can’t imagine Kurt of back then, who’d thrown him out of the house for even suggesting they talk about sex, actually voluntarily researching bondage.

Admittedly, he knows that as much as he’s struggling to get his head around the idea now, the Blaine he’d been back then… This would have absolutely blown his mind.

They’ve come a long way, together.

“Some of it I’d already sort of guessed,” Kurt continues, resolute despite his reddened cheeks. “Like the importance of having a safe word, and setting boundaries beforehand.”

Blaine swallows hard at the mention of the phrase ‘safe word’. He’s not sure he’s entirely happy with the concept of something where they’d need a special word to keep them safe. He can’t imagine the thought of doing something that would leave Kurt anything but safe.

And when it comes to their sexual relationship so far, they’ve always just asked to stop if something is too much, or doesn’t feel right. He’s become somewhat adept in the last couple of months at reading Kurt’s body, knowing when Kurt’s breathy ‘please, Blaine, stop, I can’t…’ means that he should actually stop and when it actually means ‘please don’t ever stop, that’s so good.’

A safe word, he ponders thoughtfully, would at least clear up the ambiguity that Kurt causes by using almost exactly the same words in both situations.

“I did find out a lot about… well, there’s some seriously freaky stuff out there, which wasn’t what I was looking for at all, but I did eventually find what I was looking for. And there is a lot more variety in… restraints… than I could even have imagined.”

Kurt is still bright red, but his tone sounds more coy than nervous. Blaine is hit with a sudden suspicion, but before he can ask, Kurt is continuing.

“As it turns out, there are a lot of ways to do this that are actually pretty gentle. The fact that something not leaving ligature marks is a selling point rather than an assumption was a little startling, but…”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupts, suddenly determined to know. “Have you… did you…?” He makes a vague gesture that he hopes encompasses everything he can’t quite force past the lump in his throat.

Luckily for him, Kurt speaks vague-hand-gesture fluently by now, and seems to understand immediately what he’s trying to say, if the way he bites his lip and casts a nervous glance at his own nightstand is anything to go by. “Are you going to freak out if I say yes?” he asks.

Blaine’s eyes are drawn to the closed drawer of the nightstand without his own volition, wondering nervously just what Kurt had hidden in there. “Well, firstly,” he starts, a little more shakily than he would have liked. “You do realise that you more or less just told me the answer already, right?”

Kurt grimaces slightly and wobbles his head.

“And secondly.” Blaine pauses, wiping a clammy palm on his jeans as he stalls. “I… well, I don’t actually know if I’m freaking out. Yet. I’m… maybe? I think it sort of depends on, you know, what you actually…” He waves at the closed drawer. He knows he’s not making much sense, but his brain isn’t right now, either.

“Do you want to see?” Kurt says, the words running together like he just has to get the sentence out before he loses the nerve.

Blaine looks at the nightstand again, and back at Kurt. He can tell from the way Kurt is biting at his lip that he’s just as apprehensive about this as Blaine is, although perhaps for slightly different reasons.

He nods, a little jerkily. “Yeah, yes. I… Show me.” He’s pretty sure that reality is going to be far less scary than the possibilities his mind could come up with.

Kurt twists around, stretching to reach the nightstand and rummaging for a second or two before returning, dropping a small bundle into Blaine’s lap.

“They’re blue,” is the first thing that spills from Blaine’s mouth as he picks up one cuff.

“It wouldn’t be my first choice, I’ll admit, but the only other option was lurid pink, which really just does not work at all with my skin tone,” Kurt responds, as if the aesthetic value of the cuffs actually is the most important factor here. “Let alone my sheets.”

Blaine’s slightly surprised there was a choice of colours at all, because really… why?

Pushing aside his bafflement at the idea of sex toys having any sort of decorative purpose, he fingers the material in his hand. It’s a lot softer than he was expecting, and the inside feels sort of… spongy.

“They’re padded,” Kurt says from right in front of him, evidently watching Blaine’s examination carefully. “I tried one out just by myself, and it was totally comfortable.”

Blaine has a sudden image in his head of Kurt with one wrist shackled to a corner of his bed, tugging against the restraint testingly. The tight heat in the pit of his stomach is familiar but surprising; could this actually be something he… wants?

“They fasten up with Velcro, too,” Kurt continues, snapping Blaine’s attention back to reality. “So there’s absolutely no chance of getting, you know… stuck, or anything.” He grabs the remaining cuff from Blaine’s lap and demonstrates, the ripping noise loud in Blaine’s ears.

“No getting stuck. That’s good,” Blaine says slowly, his mind edging a little into overwhelmed again, but for very different reasons as, without his volition, his eyes follow Kurt’s hands as he fiddles with the cuff, draping it across his wrist. The image just won’t leave his head now he’s thought it.

Half-absently, he tugs at the cuff in his hands, finding the Velcro stronger than he expected but still easy enough to pull apart. “Do you think they’d undo fast enough if someone came home?” he asks, only partially joking.

“Not that anyone is going to,” Kurt responds firmly, “but if such a situation were to arise, I do think there would be enough time, yes. But it’s not going to happen, really.”

“Kurt, someone has nearly walked in on us… more times than I even care to think about,” Blaine points out, recalling numerous hasty attempts at redressing and one particular incident with Finn that they have all mutually agreed to pretend never happened. (Although, according to Kurt, Finn still won’t come into his room even if Kurt is alone with the door open and he has explicitly been invited in, so maybe the whole pretending thing isn’t going as well as all that.)

“Trust me, that won’t be happening today,” Kurt says with a grin that is edging dangerously close to a filthy smirk. It’s a look that has been appearing on his face more and more often recently. “Finn left for Rachel’s right before you got here and I happen to know for a fact that her dads are at some sort of conference this weekend, so he won’t be back for ages. And dad and Carole have gone to Columbus for a dinner party with an old school friend of hers, so they won’t be back until eleven at the earliest.”

Blaine looks at his watch through sheer force of habit. It’s barely three. He’s not sure they’ve ever had even the potential for so much alone time all in one stretch before.

If there was ever a time to try something like this – and the more he pictures it the more surprisingly appealing the idea is – it’s now.

“Okay,” he says slowly, nodding gently. “Okay.”

“Okay as in okay you believe me or… okay okay?” Kurt says, his voice high and tense. His face is a maelstrom of emotions, anticipation and desire warring with fear and nervousness.

Blaine swallows, his hands clenching into loose fists in his lap. “I… okay okay. I think.”

He can see the spark that lights up behind Kurt’s eyes, but Kurt’s tone is tight when he speaks. “You think? Blaine, if you’re not absolutely sure, then we don’t do this.” He huffs a little laugh under his breath. “I don’t want to force you into anything you’re not happy with, as incongruous as that sounds, considering what I’m asking of you.”

“That’s just the thing,” Blaine breathes intensely. “I don’t want to force you into anything, and if we do this, then you wouldn’t be able to get away, and what if I do something you don’t want? After everything that happened with…” He can’t quite bring himself to say the name, even after all of the progress that has been made on that front in the last months. “I couldn’t bear it if I…”

“Blaine.” Kurt wriggles closer until he is all but in Blaine’s lap. “The situations are nothing alike. And that’s what the safe word is for, remember? I wouldn’t want this with you if I didn’t trust completely that you’d stop if I really wanted you to.”

“I just don’t want you to ever feel like that again,” Blaine says quietly, reaching out to trace a fingertip down the back of Kurt’s hand.

“I know, I do get it,” Kurt responds, flipping his hand over and taking hold of Blaine’s. “And you’re, you’ve been…” He pauses, his head twitching as if he’s been hit by some thought, as if he’s just figured something out. “You’ve been amazing, dealing with all my stupid hang-ups…”

Blaine opens his mouth to interrupt, to remind Kurt that his hang-ups aren’t stupid, not at all, but Kurt doesn’t give him the opening, barrelling on.

“… and it’s just one of the many reasons I love you. You pretty much gave me complete control over how our sex life has progressed and I needed that at first but now…”

Kurt’s head shakes fondly. “I don’t always have to control everything.”

Blaine knows his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline at that comment, but he can’t do anything to stop it. Kurt treats making breakfast like a military operation, with himself as General; the few times Blaine has been there to witness it, he’s half expected to be told to ‘drop and give me 20’ if he gets shell in an egg or slices the bread wrong.

“Ok, ok,” Kurt says, evidently having caught that particular expression. “I am a bit of a control freak, or, well, a lot of a control freak, but I don’t necessarily want to be.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not saying I want to just give up control all the time because, well, that would be a disaster.” There’s a brief shudder that Blaine wouldn’t have even caught but for the fact that he is watching Kurt’s every movement incredibly closely. “But in some situations… it would be nice to take a break, let someone else be in charge for a while.”

“And… that leads us to these?” he asks tentatively, jerking his head sideways at where the cuffs lie on the bed beside their tangled legs.

“Yes. Well, I think that’s part of it, anyway,” Kurt nods. “I’m sure there are a hundred other reasons why the idea is appealing to me, but I definitely think being made to give you the control is part of it. Just a little space of time where I don’t have to worry about everything and can just let you… well, do whatever.” His cheeks pinken a little but his eyes are dark and contemplative.

Blaine can only stare at him. He knows - has known for a long while now - that Kurt trusts him, and he knows how hard Kurt finds it to truly trust anyone so it’s not a responsibility he’s ever taken lightly. But this… this is a whole new level of trust and it’s just a little bit mind-blowing.

For Kurt to put himself entirely in Blaine’s hands is just… he’s not sure he has the words – not sure the words even exist – to describe how that makes him feel. Privileged doesn’t really cover it, although it’s definitely in there. As is fear, and excitement, and worry. And love, definitely love. A whole heaping pile of love that burns from deep inside him.

“Are you sure?” The words spill out of him almost without thought; it can never hurt to be absolutely sure.

Kurt gives him a not entirely unfamiliar look that somehow blends affectionate and mildly condescending, with just a hint of frustration in the overtones. “Blaine, how you can possibly be in any doubt about how sure I am after all we’ve just said I have no idea. And if you try to ask me again I may be forced to hurt you.”

…or maybe it can.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, tugging their joined hands up so he can kiss his apology into Kurt’s knuckles. “I just don’t want there to be any regrets.”

“As long as you really do want to do this,” Kurt says firmly, “trust me, I won’t be regretting anything.”

Blaine nods slowly, feeling something settle hotly in the pit of his stomach. “All right then.”

“So we’re…?”

“Yes.” He glances down at the cuffs, lets his eyes trace the faint pattern of Kurt’s bedspread.

Now that they’ve actually decided to do this, he’s oddly unsure of what to do. He knows there are still details they should probably discuss, but he’s not sure if he should bring them up now, or if perhaps it could wait a little while they get some kissing in.

What with everything they’ve been talking about, and the heat in Kurt’s eyes… he really, really wants to kiss Kurt right now.

He’s just really not entirely sure they’ll actually get back to the talking if he does.

Reaching out, Blaine strokes a thumb across Kurt’s bottom lip; it’s not the same, it’s not even nearly the same, but it’s enough to quell the urge in his stomach just enough to carry on.

“So, what do I…? I mean, should I just…? What do you want me to…?” He doesn’t really know how to initiate this conversation, doesn’t quite know what Kurt wants or expects him to do right now and while that’s sort of the point of the discussion, he doesn’t like the feeling.

He wants to do this, he knows Kurt wants to do it, but where to even start is eluding him a little.

Everything they’ve done together has been new, has involved a certain level of uncertainty and figuring it out as they go along, but Blaine has never felt quite the way he does now, never felt this precise mix of anticipation and cluelessness. And he knows the only thing to do is going to be to dive straight in at the deep end and trust that Kurt will toss him some floaties if he starts to sink.

He takes a deep breath, fingers still resting gently against the side of Kurt’s jaw. “Kurt, I… I really don’t know what I’m doing here. What do you want me to do?”

Kurt wraps his fingers around Blaine’s, pulling them down to press Blaine’s fist against his heart. “Blaine,” he says slowly. “The whole point of this is that I’m not the one calling all the shots.”

“I know,” Blaine responds. “I just…” He pauses, trying to work out how best to put across what he actually means; trying to work out what he does actually mean while he’s at it. It’s not that he’s looking for precise instructions or anything, more… “Maybe a better way to put it would be to ask if there’s anything you definitely don’t want me to do. I’m feeling a bit like I’m going in blind, here.”

Kurt frowns, looking thoughtful. “That’s sort of what the safe word is for, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, I guess,” Blaine accedes. “But I sort of don’t want you to actually have to use it. Ever, preferably. Although we should probably still decide on what it is.”

“Penguin,” Kurt says, peremptorily.

Penguin? Blaine leans back a little, eyes wide. “Penguin,” he repeats, a little surprised that Kurt has, it seems, already picked out what he thinks is a suitable word; wondering if he should feel put out that apparently Kurt didn’t think this was something he needed any input in.

“And what, exactly, is wrong with penguin?” Kurt drops Blaine’s hand, looking mildly offended.

“Nothing!” Blaine says hurriedly. “Nothing at all.” If it reminds him a little too sharply of a conversation he’d really rather pretend had never occurred, well, he suspects Kurt means the reminder in an entirely different way – if he even made the connection at all. (Blaine suspects he has; it’s too much for it to be a coincidence.)

“I was just a little surprised that you’d already come up with something,” he insists.

Kurt doesn’t look like he entirely believes him, but Blaine can almost read the exact moment on his face where he decides to let it slide, just this once.

“So, penguin, then,” he starts, trying to steer the conversation back to the question he still desperately wants Kurt to answer. “Either of us says that word and we stop right there and talk through why it was too much… yeah?”

Kurt nods, a fond smile growing on his face. “We’ve always been good at talking out our issues. I can’t see why this should be any different.”

“I’m hoping we never have to, in this situation,” Blaine reiterates. “Even if you stop me right away, I don’t want to do anything to you, anything with you, that you really don’t want.”

“You know what I like, Blaine,” Kurt says, blushing for the first time since they agreed that they were doing this. “It’s not like we’ve never done any of this stuff before.”

Which isn’t exactly an answer, but Blaine knows Kurt well enough by now to understand what he’s saying without saying it. He’d already had an idea in his own head that, well, the restraints should be the only new thing about this experience today, but it’s good to hear that Kurt is on the same page.

And even limited to things they’ve tried before… he isn’t exactly struggling for choice. His mind is already racing with all the glorious, wonderful things he could do to Kurt, for Kurt, in the next few hours.

“So, all the things we normally do,” he says softly, wriggling until he can get to his knees, resting on his heels. “Except… I’m in charge.”

Kurt’s eyes are almost black when they look up and meet Blaine’s, his tongue just peeking out above his bottom lip, chest already beginning to heave just a little.

Without words, he shuffles backwards, away, up the bed, leaning back onto his elbows, shoulders almost brushing the pillows. He never takes his eyes off Blaine’s.

Blaine doesn’t need any more invitation than that.

He practically falls onto Kurt, scrambling up to blanket his body with his own, their lips meeting finally, finally, in a desperate, heated kiss. Blaine can’t contain the deep groan that rumbles through his chest as his tongue tangles with Kurt’s in a familiar dance.

Pulling back a little to suck in a gasping breath, he nips gently at Kurt’s bottom lip in a way he knows drives Kurt mad; Kurt whines high in his throat and melts back into the pillows almost instantly, Blaine following him down.

It would be easy, so very easy, just to do this for hours. It’s not that Blaine doesn’t want to do more – his body is quite insistent about that, and the images in his head of what he’s about to do are just too hot to ignore – but he honestly doesn’t think he could ever tire of kissing Kurt.

Especially like this, with a soft bed and hours of alone time at their disposal.

Kurt’s hands trail slowly up Blaine’s sides, fingers wiggling in tiny caresses; Blaine shivers and squirms at the tickle. The movement evidently does not go unnoticed by Kurt, as he scrunches up the hem of Blaine’s polo shirt and tickling his bare skin in earnest.

“Kurt!” he protests breathlessly, tearing his lips from Kurt’s in a desperate effort to catch his breath as he wriggles away from the playful torment.

Kurt just redoubles his efforts, his breathy giggles sending a bolt of heat right through Blaine’s core.

He lets his weight fall into Kurt, freeing his hands to come down and grasp at Kurt’s, halting the tickling. Going with the sudden urge he cannot ignore, he pulls Kurt’s hands up beside his head, pressing them into the pillows.

“God, Kurt,” he murmurs, pushing himself up enough to look down at Kurt, at the picture he makes with Blaine’s hands holding him down like this. Kurt pushes back against his grip for a second; just a second, a perfunctory struggle more than anything real. If he really wanted to, he could probably throw Blaine off – his lean frame hides a remarkable strength – but even without the conversation they’ve just had, the look in Kurt’s eyes would reassure Blaine that actually freeing himself is far from Kurt’s mind.

For a long moment, they just stare at each other. Blaine’s heart is beating so hard and fast he’s surprised it hasn’t just burst right out of his chest. Kurt is the first one to move, straining his neck towards Blaine, a whine deep in his throat; Blaine meets him halfway, licking into the wet heat of Kurt’s mouth and swallowing Kurt’s pleased hum.

A twist of his hips brings them fully together, legs twining around each other, bodies melding from thigh to chest. Blaine can feel Kurt hardening against his thigh, knows Kurt must be able to feel him too, and wonders, almost absently, if knowing he can affect Kurt like that will ever stop being this thrilling.

It’s an effort to drag himself away from Kurt’s mouth, but Kurt has so much soft skin just waiting to be adored, and Blaine can’t deny himself the privilege of doing so any longer.

The pleasured little sounds he can feel vibrating from Kurt’s throat as he mouths at a sensitive spot just above his Adam’s apple are more than enough reward alone; the sweet saltiness of Kurt’s skin on his tongue is just a bonus.

He noses along the wide neckline of Kurt’s fitted T-shirt, grateful that the lightweight cardigan that had originally completed the ensemble had been long gone almost as soon as he’d arrived at Kurt’s door. Even as he does it, he knows Kurt will probably rebuke him later for the mark he leaves as he bites down gently at Kurt’s shoulder, but some possessive streak deep inside him likes it too much to care.

He has learned his lesson about doing so anywhere Kurt can’t cover easily with his regular wardrobe; one evening of getting carried away, still early in their relationship, had led to the closest thing they’ve actually had to a fight since they got together.

Kurt still complains, afterwards, almost every time. But he can’t deny that he enjoys it at the time; well, he can, but his reaction in the moment means Blaine doesn’t believe a word of it.

Blaine pulls back, breathing harshly, lungs burning, and his eyes are drawn reflexively to the reddening mark. Kurt arches up towards him at the loss of contact, hands tugging at Blaine’s, but Blaine holds firm.

“Blaine, please,” Kurt murmurs, his voice deep and throaty in a way Blaine has only ever heard it when they’re…well, doing this.

Their eyes lock for a long moment; Blaine swallows hard at the naked desire written all over Kurt’s face. They may have gotten naked together quite a few times by now, but it never fails to take his breath away to see a visible sign of how much Kurt wants it, wants him.

It strikes him suddenly that somehow they are both still fully clothed. Which really just can’t be allowed to go on any longer.

He releases Kurt’s hands and sits up, shifting his knees so he’s straddling Kurt’s hips. Before he even gets as far as reaching for Kurt’s shirt, Kurt is starting to get to his elbows, worry vying with the arousal on his face.

“Blaine? What’s wrong?” he asks, evidently having jumped in entirely the wrong direction to reach a conclusion.

Blaine shakes his head. “Nothing,” he reassures. “Well, except for the fact that you’re still wearing a shirt. That definitely needs solving before we go any further.”

A coy smile spreads across Kurt’s face. “Oh, I think I can probably do something about that,” he breathes. He’s already pulling his arms from the sleeves by the time Blaine grasps the hem, and between them they free him from the T-shirt in barely a second.

Blaine drops it on the floor beside the bed; it’s another thing Kurt will probably tell him off for later, after, but there’s absolutely no way Blaine’s wasting time folding it carefully now, not when Kurt’s bare chest is right there waiting.

He shifts, wriggling more comfortably on Kurt’s thighs, and his knee hits something. He digs around in the mess of rumpled quilt around them and pulls out the cuffs.

Distracted by the prospect of all of that soft skin to touch, Blaine had almost – not quite, but almost – forgotten about them.

He looks at them for a second, then back at Kurt.

Kurt has settled back into the pillows and looks back from beneath hooded eyelids, laid out, relaxed, like something for Blaine to feast on. Part of Blaine is tempted just to drop the cuffs, throw himself at Kurt and let things go wherever they will go.

But he knows it’s not what Kurt really wants, not this afternoon at any rate. And if the reality lives up to the fantasy images he’s been building up in his head since the start of their conversation – and the reality almost always surpasses his imagination by far – then it will be worth the wait.

“So,” he starts. Stops. Clears his throat and tries again. “Last chance to back out,” he smiles, lifting his hand and letting a cuff dangle from his thumb. “Or, well, not really,” he adds hurriedly, a little involuntary panic seeping in when Kurt doesn’t respond after a second. “You can obviously call a stop to this whenever you want, if you need to. I was just…”

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupts. “Stop. Worrying. I want this.” His blush is only visible at the tips of his ears, his cheeks already pink from arousal. “I really want this, okay? I’m ready.”

Blaine nods, taking a steadying breath and then looking around. Looking, more specifically, at Kurt’s bed. Or rather, the headboard. The very, very solid headboard.

“Kurt?” he starts. “How… Where were you planning on… you know… attaching?” He nods at the cuff still dangling from his hand. There isn’t anything obvious that Blaine can see that is even vaguely suitable. But he knows Kurt, and Kurt wouldn’t have brought it up if he hadn’t thought such things through.

Kurt rolls to his side and tugs the pillows away from the head of the bed with one hand, reaching out to Blaine with the other.

Puzzled but curious, Blaine takes it and lets Kurt pull him up beside him.

Kurt levers the edge of the mattress away from the headboard, exposing a section of the bedframe usually entirely hidden. A section of the headboard that, unlike the part normally visible, isn’t solid. Blaine is surprised at himself for a moment that he’s never noticed this before, until he reasons that he usually has more important things on his mind when on this bed than checking down the back of the mattress.

“It’s cheaper and more lightweight not to have it solid all the way down,” Kurt explains, shrugging one shoulder. “I wasn’t exactly thinking of this when my dad and I picked out the frame, but it’s, well… convenient.”

Convenient is definitely one thing it is, Blaine thinks as he stares at the triangular lattice pattern supporting Kurt’s headboard.

“There’s enough length in the non-padded ties on the cuffs that the mattress doesn’t get in the way,” Kurt adds. The absolute confidence his tone infers on this pronouncement confirms that he’s tested this out, and Blaine’s mental picture from before returns, more detailed than ever. Hotter than ever.

Reaching out, he cups Kurt’s cheek in his palm, heart fit to burst at the way Kurt automatically nestles into the touch.

“Have I told you today how ridiculously in love with you I am?” he whispers fiercely, face inches from Kurt’s.

“Yes.” Kurt closes the gap between them, brushing their lips together lightly. “But don’t let that stop you from telling me again.”

Blaine can’t help the huff of fond laughter that escapes him at Kurt’s so very, well, Kurt-like response. He also can’t resist doing exactly what Kurt’s comment teasingly asks for and frames Kurt’s face with his other hand, locking their gazes. “I am stupidly…” He pauses, punctuates the word with a soft kiss. “…irrevocably…” kiss “…hopelessly…” kiss “…crazily…” kiss “…in love with you, Kurt Hummel.”

A moment later, he finds himself tugged on top of Kurt, breath stolen as Kurt captures his mouth ardently, Kurt’s fingers against the skin of his back where his polo shirt has ridden up. “The feeling is entirely mutual,” Kurt pants into his cheek, and Blaine has to draw him back into the kiss, getting lost in it for an endless minute.

Kurt already looks thoroughly debauched – lips red and swollen, hair in disarray, eyes glazed – when he finally finds the strength to pull away. And they haven’t even really started yet.

“Okay. Right,” he starts determinedly, refusing to give in to the parts of him that really aren’t happy with this interruption in the very nice kissing and writhing that was going on. “Let’s… do this.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says throatily, nodding and letting Blaine manoeuvre him down the bed by his belt loops until his head is once again resting just on the edges of the pillows.

Picking up the cuffs again, Blaine rolls off to Kurt’s side and crawls up to kneel beside his shoulders. The ‘tying’ ends of the cuffs don’t actually tie any more than the cuffs themselves do, he realises on closer examination; there’s a thick plastic clip joining the ends of the loop of fabric. It takes a fair bit of pressure to release the catch, but it comes away smoothly enough.

He tugs at the corner of the mattress, pulling it up just enough to get at the latticed support and takes a guess at a good one to snap the tie around. He’s just pulling his hand free so he can let the mattress fall back into place when Kurt’s hand insinuates itself up the cuff of his jeans, backs of his fingers stroking against his ankle where his sock ends.

“Kurt,” he says, the intended admonishment lost in the strangled whine of his voice as shivers from Kurt’s fingertips dance up his leg and through him.

“Hurry up and get back down here,” Kurt huffs, prodding at Blaine’s ankle bone with a knuckle.

Blaine twists so he can see Kurt properly and gets distracted for a moment, running a hand across a pale expanse of shoulder; it’s too much to ask him to resist when it’s laid out for him like that.

“Patience,” he murmurs, bending over as far as he can to press a slightly-sloppy upside-down kiss to Kurt’s chin. “I’m getting there.”

“You’ve known me for nearly a year now,” Kurt says as Blaine leans over him awkwardly to snap the other cuff into place on the other side of the bed. “When have you ever known me to be patient?”

“Well…” Blaine thinks about it for the seconds it takes to crawl backwards down the bed and settle back across Kurt’s thighs. “You were pretty patient waiting for me to get my head out of my ass and realise you’d been right there in front of me all along.”

At the time, already knowing Kurt well enough to know that his patience wasn’t one of his defining features, part of him had been utterly convinced that he was too late. Had retained that conviction right up to the moment when Kurt kissed him back.

Kurt snorts lightly. “You only think that because you didn’t hear the things I said about you to Rachel and Mercedes. It’s lucky I was so head over heels, really, or I’d have given up on you long before you made your move.”

Even the thought is horrible to consider. Blaine bends over and presses a kiss to Kurt’s chest, over his heart. “I’m so, so glad you didn’t,” he whispers, looking up at Kurt’s face. “Guess I’m a lucky guy.”

“You’ll be luckier still if you get up here and get on with this,” Kurt says, tapping the backs of his hands against the pillows.

“I thought the point of this was that you weren’t the one in control?” Blaine grins, nevertheless shifting forwards so he can reach out for the waiting cuffs.

“And I won’t be,” Kurt retorts, with a look that is more serene than he has any right to be, given how they’ve spent their afternoon so far. “Just as soon as you start.”

A cuff in one hand, Blaine kisses Kurt briefly and catches his eye. “Still sure?”

“Blaine.” The look Kurt gives him promises a world of pain if Blaine so much as thinks of asking again.

“Okay, okay.” Blaine gives him another kiss, a little longer, a wordless act of contrition and a heated start to what is to come all in one. “Give me your wrist.”

It’s a bit of a balancing act to wrap the fabric around Kurt’s arm and secure the Velcro without falling on Kurt’s face, but after a minute’s fumbling he smoothes the fastened cuff into place. “Is that okay?” he can’t help but ask, needing to be absolutely sure that Kurt is comfortable before they start this.

Kurt tugs at his arm, and his hand slides right through. “Maybe… a little tighter would be good,” he says, the laugh he is clearly trying to restrain slipping through anyway.

Blaine doesn’t even attempt to paint a hurt look on his face at Kurt’s amusement; it would be a losing battle from the start. “I just wanted to be sure it would be comfortable for you,” he explains, huffing a little laugh himself. “So sue me.”

Kurt’s other hand comes up to tangle in Blaine’s hair, thumb teasing at a sensitive spot behind his ear that Kurt loves to kiss. “I know,” he murmurs fondly, “And it’s one of the many things I love about you. But seriously…”

“I know,” Blaine interrupts. “Stop worrying so much.” It’s not that he’s not trying, but worrying about Kurt has been ingrained pretty much since the moment they met, and it’s hard to tone it down even when he knows it’s unnecessary.

“Exactly,” Kurt smiles. “I’ll let you know if something’s wrong, or hurts. I promise.”

The second attempt goes a bit more smoothly, and, importantly, Kurt’s hand stays put when he tugs at it to test the fastening. Blaine’s mouth goes a little dry watching it. “Not too tight, this time?” he asks roughly, tearing his eyes from Kurt’s wrist to his face.

Kurt rolls his eyes at him but answers the question. “No, not too tight. Just perfect, in fact.”

“Good.” Blaine knows his voice is barely more than a whisper, but Kurt like this, snarky but evidently pleased, even with just the one hand bound so far, just looks so good that he can barely catch his breath.

He catches Kurt’s free hand with his own, untangling it from his hair and mouthing softly at the palm for a few seconds. Kurt hums quietly, a sound Blaine recognises as satisfaction, before tugging his hand away and laying it back on the pillows above his head.

Blaine takes the hint and quickly reaches for the remaining cuff, fastening it securely around Kurt’s wrist first time.

He sits back and just looks. There’s a tiny voice in the back of Blaine’s mind fretting about the pull on Kurt’s shoulders but he pushes it down and away; Kurt promised to let him know if he was in pain, and he’s going to trust him to do it.

It’s not as hard as he thought it would be to ignore the thought; the picture Kurt makes, eyes dark and wanting, arms held above his head, skin just waiting to be touched, is thoroughly distracting.

There’s nothing Kurt can do now except lie back and let Blaine adore him, please him, love him. It’s a heady thought. He’s not entirely sure where to begin.

“Blaine,” Kurt whines, and Blaine realises that he might just have been staring for a little long. Bracing his hands at Kurt’s sides, he lowers himself back down and draws Kurt into a slow kiss.

It feels a little odd, at first, to kiss Kurt like this, settled on top of him on a soft mattress, without Kurt’s hands in his hair, on his back, tugging him closer. It’s not necessarily bad, he decides as Kurt tilts his head to deepen the kiss, just different. And he can definitely concentrate better on the kiss itself without Kurt’s hands on his ass to distract him.

He sighs into Kurt’s mouth and throws himself into it entirely, burying his fingers in Kurt’s hair and attacking his mouth with fervour. Kurt kisses back just as intensely, tongue chasing Blaine’s every time he retreats, teeth scraping lightly over Blaine’s bottom lip.

“Blaine,” Kurt pants the moment he draws away from his lips. Blaine hums into his jaw in acknowledgement, not willing or able to drag himself away. “I know I’m… not… in control here,” Kurt continues a moment later. “But… lose the shirt?”

That sounds like an excellent idea to Blaine, and he can’t quite believe he didn’t think of it himself. Abandoning Kurt’s barely nibbled earlobe for the moment, he pushes himself upright and tears the polo-shirt over his head.

Kurt’s eyes rake appreciatively across his body even as the shirt hits the bedroom floor. Blaine can still remember doing this the very first time, feeling nervous and exposed as he peeled off his shirt, Kurt’s eyes skittering around the room in an attempt not to stare.

For all the excitement the first-time nerves had added, he likes it better now. He likes the comfort they’re building with each other’s bodies, the knowledge that they’re free to look and touch and kiss wherever they like.

That knowledge brings an excitement all of its own.

He scoots down on Kurt’s thighs and rests his hands on Kurt’s stomach, pausing for a second just to feel the play of muscles under his palms as Kurt tenses and relaxes under him.

“I love your skin,” he murmurs softly, absently, as he pushes his hands up, fingertips spreading across Kurt’s chest, pinkies brushing across his nipples.

Kurt sucks in a breath, nipples hardening at the touch. “Well, you know I do try,” he says, voice high in his throat.

Blaine’s seen the multitude of skincare products Kurt owns, and he may have been known to tease him about it from time to time, but he can’t deny he appreciates the results. “I do,” he smiles. “And I get to reap all the benefits.” He lets his fingers drift, stroking across the planes of Kurt’s torso. “So soft,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss his shoulder. “And all mine.”

He closes his eyes, trailing kisses into the centre of Kurt’s chest by touch and memory alone. He’s not sure he’s ever had quite so open an opportunity to just explore at leisure before; usually by this point Kurt’s own caresses and kisses have him operating in a heady haze.

Lifting his head, he watches Kurt’s face and licks a long line down his sternum. Kurt bites his lip, the action absolutely useless at containing the low moan Kurt makes, but almost too efficient at making Blaine want to bite it for him. He’s never actually told Kurt quite what it does to him whenever Kurt catches his bottom lip between his teeth, but their history suggests that Kurt has long figured it out.

Because he has the time, because he has Kurt stretched out before him like a veritable feast of sensation, he tries licking back up, to see if he can elicit a different response. Kurt tries to squirm, but trapped between Blaine across his thighs and his wrists at the headboard, he can’t move far.

“Blaine, please,” he breaths, eyes shut and mouth open.

“Please what?” Blaine asks, words muffled as he traces around the dip at the base of Kurt’s throat with the tip of his tongue.

There’s no reply at first, and Blaine props his head up just enough to see Kurt’s eyes. He knows he’s supposed to be the one in control here, and he is enjoying the freedom to investigate all the reactions he can coax out of Kurt like this, but if Kurt actually asks for something specific… well, he’s really not very good at denying Kurt anything, and he can’t honestly see that changing any time soon.

Kurt’s eyes blink open and find Blaine’s immediately. “I don’t actually know,” he confesses breathlessly. “Just… please don’t stop?”

“Trust me,” Blaine says, kissing the edge of Kurt’s jaw. “I’m not planning on stopping unless you tell me to.” There’s still far too much of Kurt left to lavish with affection to stop now.

He takes his time making his way back down Kurt’s neck, mentally cataloguing all the different little noises Kurt makes in the back of his throat as he alternates between licks and kisses and gentle scrapes of his teeth. They’re none of them quite the same, but he can’t pick a favourite among them for the life of him.

Gripping Kurt’s hips tightly, he inches lower on Kurt’s legs so he can continue his path down Kurt’s chest without continuing to bend at an awkward angle. His erection slides against Kurt’s thigh on the way down, the burst of pleasure from the friction a petulant reminder that that part of him is feeling somewhat neglected.

‘Patience,’ he thinks at it sternly, an echo of his earlier words to Kurt. He almost catches himself starting to say it out loud, but restrains himself. He knows he’s not always what most people would call a typical teenage boy, but even he draws the line at talking aloud to his own cock. Even if the only person to hear him is Kurt.

He reminds himself yet again that for once they do have time; there’s no need to hurry.

From his new angle, Kurt’s left nipple is right there in front of his face, hard and tight and almost begging to be touched.

He ducks to the side instead, planting wet, open-mouthed kisses across solid muscle and revelling in the pleasured-but-frustrated whimpers that escape Kurt as he circles around, pointedly avoiding the nipple.

“Fuck,” Kurt murmurs almost under his breath. “I never knew you were such a tease.”

“Never had the time,” Blaine tells him honestly. “Or the freedom,” he adds with a half smile. If Kurt had his hands free, Blaine’s fairly sure he’d have used them by now to guide Blaine’s mouth closer to where he really wants it. Right now he’s enjoying making Kurt wait a little while he maps out the rest of his chest with fingertips and lips and tongue.

“I’ll get there,” he promises, licking a little closer. “Be patient.”

“Ugh,” Kurt moans, evidently not pleased with the continuing wait, even as he gasps and arches beneath Blaine’s wandering lips. Blaine edges closer and closer, licking a wet circle around the outside of the darker skin around Kurt’s nipple and earning, for his efforts, a bitten off cry that sounds glorious in his ears.

When he finally closes his lips around the hardened nub and flicks at it with his tongue, Kurt practically convulses off the bed, and Blaine has to slide his hands firmly around his waist to maintain contact.

The first time he’d done this – or rather, the first time he’d brushed curious fingers across Kurt’s chest, Kurt’s fierce reaction had startled him. Until Kurt, he’d only had his knowledge of his own body to guide him, and nipples had never been a particularly sensitive area for him. He’d known in theory that they were generally considered an erogenous zone, and the guys in porn certainly seemed to enjoy having them played with and kissed, but they were also being paid to look like they were having a good time, so he’d never quite believed it.

But then there came Kurt. Gorgeous, responsive Kurt who had made Blaine rethink every idea he’d ever had about nipples with one soft cry of pure pleasure. It hadn’t taken long for Blaine to discover that he could reduce Kurt to a quivering puddle with the right combination of touches, and he puts what knowledge he’s gained on the subject over the last months to good use now.

Kurt’s head is tipped back into the pillows, a mumbled litany of mostly unintelligible words spilling from his lips, although Blaine recognises his own name here and there. He misses having Kurt’s hands in his hair, a little, but there’s so much that’s just utterly hot about this whole experience that it more than makes up for it.

He bites down very gently, and the low, almost obscene groan Kurt makes reverberates right through him; he grinds up against Kurt’s leg, the brief friction knocking the edge off the desire pooling in his gut. It’s getting harder to ignore, though. Especially when Kurt keeps making these noises that only serve to get Blaine more worked up.

He breaks away, winning the battle against the part of him that wants nothing more than to carry on endlessly, the part that just wants to spend forever listening to Kurt make those noises because of him. He licks at a bead of sweat making its way down Kurt’s throat; he knows, deep in the back of his mind, that he should probably find it disgusting, it’s sweat after all, but it’s also Kurt, and all of him just tastes so good.

He stares at Kurt for long seconds; sometimes he still can’t believe this beautiful boy is his, that he gets to see him like this, that he gets to be the one who can make Kurt all loose-limbed and aroused and dishevelled like this, the one making Kurt feel good.

“Why’d you stop?” Kurt whines plaintively, head rolling around to the side so Blaine can see his pout.

“Just admiring my hot boyfriend,” Blaine says with a slow smile, one hand releasing its grip on Kurt’s waist to reach up and smooth away the pout of Kurt’s bottom lip.

“You can admire later,” Kurt huffs. “Touch me.”

Even with his mind a little fogged by desire, Blaine knows that pointing out that he is touching Kurt would not be a good idea. “Bossy,” he murmurs instead, tempering the word with a close-mouthed kiss in the centre of Kurt’s chest.

“Urgh, I know, I know,” Kurt sighs. “Just… please?”

Blaine hadn’t actually connected the word at all with their discussion before about Kurt’s control-freak tendencies; his awareness of the physical control he has in this situation has been buried by all the ways he wants to use it to make Kurt moan.

He trails his kisses lower, taking advantage of Kurt’s arched back to slip both of his hands around and under to curve across Kurt’s jeans-clad ass. Kurt hums happily when he squeezes lightly.

There are several parts of Kurt’s body that it has taken time and love and lots of make-outs to convince Kurt that they’re perfect as they are – that none of him is too skinny or flabby or pale to be attractive. Happily, his ass is not one of them, and Blaine is continually thankful for the confidence that allows Kurt to wear the truly skin tight pants he does, that show off his ass to perfection.

Although it does occasionally leave him conjuring up his best anti-boner thoughts when Kurt wanders off ahead of him, his swinging hips only accentuating it.

And it does feel so absolutely right under his palms.

With his hands happily occupied, he has to use his elbows and hips to wriggle down as his mouth reaches the top of Kurt’s stomach. His feet are dangling well off the bed by now, but he really couldn’t care less.

He rubs his cheek against the flat plains of Kurt’s stomach, loving the slide of soft skin against his slightly stubble-roughened jaw. He can feel the muscles jumping against him, accompanied by a quiet noise from above his head.

Kurt has always been slim – at least in the time Blaine has been in a position to know for sure – but the hours he put in for his dad over the summer while Blaine was off sweating in horrendous polyester outfits and singing awful numbers have left him lean and toned. Blaine can’t resist tracing the definition of the muscles with his tongue, feeling them tighten in response.

He’s thwarted in his mission to follow all the edges by the waist of Kurt’s jeans, so noses along the top of them instead, alternating soft kisses with broad licks and swirls of his tongue.

He dips into Kurt’s belly button when he reaches it, making Kurt jerk, one foot catching against Blaine’s leg as his body tries to bend in the middle. The sound that escapes him is half moan, half gasped laugh. Blaine does it again, because he can. Because he knows it tickles but also knows with absolute certainty that Kurt likes it. (And not just because Kurt has whispered as much in his ear when they cuddle in the dim glow of a TV screen.)

Kurt whines his name, the unspoken plea hidden in the single syllable as clear as day: get on with it.

Blaine nuzzles closer for a second, the top button of Kurt’s pants digging into his chin as he presses against Kurt’s stomach. And as wonderful and hot as Kurt’s chest and his face and his stomach are, Blaine needs, wants more. Wants the rest of him. Wants it with an urgency he’s been successfully ignoring and pushing aside until now, an urgency that will no longer wait.

“You know,” he says, in as close to a casual, conversational tone as he can manage when all he can think about is getting Kurt completely naked and now. “I think we might be a little too dressed for this.”

Kurt prods at him with a toe, making him look up to meet Kurt’s flushed but serious face. “Blaine,” he says slowly. “We are definitely too dressed for this.”

Taking the tacit permission for what it is, Blaine eases his hands out from underneath Kurt and gets to work on the buttons of Kurt’s jeans. He sighs and looks up at Kurt after wrangling the first two from their holes, frustrated – and understandably, he thinks.

“Really?” he asks. “A button fly, Kurt? You plan this and then you wear pants with a button fly?” His fingers are fumbling with the third button, his desperation to get Kurt out of them working against him in the worst way.

“You love these jeans,” Kurt mutters defensively. “I know you do.”

Blaine wins his battle with the third button and nearly – nearly – lets out a cry of victory. But doesn’t, because he still has two more to go. “I do love them,” he admits, working up to tackling the next one, trying to steady his shaky fingers. “You look amazing in them. What I don’t love is trying to get them off you.”

He wipes his hands on the denim across Kurt’s pelvis; his fingers are still uncooperative in his desire but less sweaty can only be good as he starts on the final two buttons. Luckily – for his patience – they come away much more easily than their predecessors, and he pushes apart the edges greedily.

Freed finally from the confines of his tight jeans, Kurt’s cock springs out to tent his boxer briefs. It’s right there; Blaine doesn’t think anyone would blame him for giving in to his urge to trail a finger down the entire length, just once.

He can feel the heat of Kurt even through the cotton. Kurt cries out softly, hips rising into the touch. Blaine squeezes at the base briefly before sliding away. It takes the better part of twenty seconds to get Kurt actually out of his jeans entirely, requiring a combination of Kurt wriggling his hips and Blaine tugging at them from the bottom.

Blaine ponders briefly the idea of just starting naked, if they do this again; Kurt’s clothes are far easier to remove when he has all of his limbs free to help the process along.

He peels Kurt’s socks off as his jeans hit the floor and leans down to press a kiss to his ankle; Kurt shakes him off, protesting quietly that it ‘tickles, dammit’.

Blaine sits back on his heels at the foot of Kurt’s bed and takes in the sight before him. Technically there’s nothing he hasn’t seen before – Kurt’s even still in his boxers, although he plans to rectify that very soon – but it’s just more.

For the first time, he finds himself feeling utterly possessive; Kurt is his, this view is his, and his alone. No one else can touch this. And even though Kurt is the one cuffed to the bed, he also feels entirely Kurt’s. Although that one isn’t quite such a new feeling.

He leans forward and hooks his thumbs in the waistband of Kurt’s boxers, looking up to meet Kurt’s eyes, check one last time that he’s okay. Kurt gives him the very barest hint of a nod and digs his heels into the bed, arching up so his hips are entirely off the bed.

Blaine wastes no time in pulling the boxers down and off – even with his newly defined stomach muscles, Kurt can’t hold his hips like that for long, and most of all Blaine just wants him naked.

His eyes rake hungrily over Kurt’s body and he licks his lips as he watches his dick settle hard against his belly. He’s starting to crawl back up Kurt’s legs when Kurt’s voice stops him.

“You too?” he rasps, the end of the sentence swinging upwards belatedly as if Kurt had only just remembered he wasn’t supposed to be telling Blaine what to do.

And, well, the only thing better than being with a naked Kurt is being naked with a naked Kurt. Blaine gets to his feet so quickly he almost trips over himself and shucks off the rest of his clothes, toeing off his socks and leaving everything where it lies as he clambers back onto the bed.

“Fuck, Kurt,” he whispers harshly as he settles between Kurt’s legs, running his hands restlessly from Kurt’s shins to his thighs. Kurt whines his name, hips shifting impatiently, clearly waiting for something from Blaine.

Blaine just doesn’t have it in him to tease Kurt any more, he just wants. He sweeps his hands up right to the juncture between Kurt’s hips and thighs on his next pass and, without any further warning, ducks down to take the head of Kurt’s dick into his mouth.

Kurt cries out immediately, his voice hot and high, and Blaine has to hold his hips down to make sure he doesn’t choke as Kurt writhes.

He’s only done this a few times so far, the first barely three weeks ago – that time he had choked, and had needed to stop for a while until he got his spluttering under control – and the sensation still surprises him with quite how much he likes it.

Kurt tastes of Kurt more here than anywhere else, and it’s addictive. Blaine swallows, savouring the salty tang on his tongue for a moment before getting his mind back on task.

He pushes down, pulls up, sets up an unsteady rhythm around Kurt’s cock, trying to figure out where it works best to suck harder, tighten his lips, ease off. He experiments with his tongue, combinations of swirls around the head and licks over the very tip, listening for Kurt’s reactions.

It’s all working for him, every new cry from Kurt sending a bolt of pleasure straight to his cock, every drop of pre-come he can lick from Kurt’s slit coiling deep in his balls. He slides his knees back and drops to lie flat in the space between Kurt’s knees.

He can’t help but rut against the sheets a little as he sinks slowly deeper onto Kurt’s cock, gripping the base with one hand to give himself a better angle. Kurt’s bedding is so soft, and the friction feels so good. Combined with the feel and taste of Kurt’s dick against his tongue, he’s getting far too hot, far too fast, but it feels too perfect to slow down now.

“Blaine,” Kurt pants urgently. “Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. Too close, too close. Please. Need you. With me, please. Please.”

Blaine tilts his chin up and is hit with the fierce longing on Kurt’s face as he strains his neck towards Blaine. It’s compelling. With one last, lingering, lick to Kurt’s cock he scrambles up Kurt’s body and captures his lips in a sloppy, desperate kiss.

Their bodies seem to just know how to line up, hips smashed together and erections slip-sliding against each other. Kurt sucks hard on his tongue as he arches into Blaine, and Blaine knows his hands would be everywhere if he were free. Blaine can’t move his own from Kurt’s wrists, fingertips just touching the heel of Kurt’s palms.

He’s far too close to be able to establish any sort of rhythm, hips jerking frantically against Kurt’s, swallowing the noises neither of them can hold back in their never-ending kiss.

Kurt is the first to go over the edge, his lips falling slack against Blaine’s as every other muscle in his body convulses and he spills hot and wet between their bellies. He’s still shaking when Blaine follows him helplessly a few thrusts later, groaning what he thinks is Kurt’s name into his jaw as lights go off behind his eyelids, everything whiting out for a moment or two.

Kurt is grinning sleepily at him when he comes back to himself, his eyes sparkling and satisfied. “Hi,” he whispers, as if anything louder would break the beauty of the moment.

Blaine smiles back reflexively and finds himself echoing the quiet tone. “Hi.”

He’s already sticking to Kurt a little as he shifts so he rolls off and fumbles blindly for the box of tissues he knows are somewhere on Kurt’s nightstand. He nearly knocks them to the floor but manages to rescue them, pulling a few out to clean them both up as much as he can.

It’s not perfect, but his legs are still far too liquid to make it to the bathroom for a wet cloth and all he wants to do now is cuddle. He starts to roll back into Kurt’s side before he realises that Kurt’s arms are still held above his head.

It is, as Kurt assured him beforehand, the work of moments to rip open the Velcro and release him; Kurt lets out a little sigh as he lowers his arms, one of them immediately wrapping itself around Blaine’s shoulder.

“Are your shoulders okay?” Blaine asks, concern overriding everything else as he watches the release play across Kurt’s face.

“A little sore,” Kurt admits, rolling them slowly, “but it’s fine.” Blaine watches his eyes closely for any sign that he’s not saying everything but finds nothing. “It was so worth it,” Kurt adds with a coy smile.

Blaine’s grin springs back across his face without his conscious volition. “Your ideas are amazing,” he tells Kurt as he curls against his side, nuzzling his head into Kurt’s neck. “Seriously.”

“I know,” Kurt replies, his tone smug as he wraps both arms tight around Blaine and pulls him closer.

Blaine is drifting into a sated nap when Kurt speaks again. “By the way,” he murmurs into Blaine’s hair. “We are so doing this again.”

Yes, Blaine thinks, too sleepy to actually say it aloud. We totally are.