“What's your favorite part of my body?”

“What?”

Kurt flopped his head over on his pillow and gave Blaine a sleepy smile. He wriggled, settling himself deeper into the comfortable well his body was making in Blaine's bed, ready to drift off into a well-deserved nap after the desperate, opportunity-fueled sex they'd had on this unexpected Wednesday afternoon. Kurt had been home working on a French essay when Blaine had texted him that Principal Figgins had decided substitutes weren't needed for graduation practice after all. He could only hope his dad never found out how many laws he'd broken getting across town to Blaine's apartment.

They'd met on the sidewalk, fumbled with the locks, stripped and fallen into bed so fast that they'd never even gotten their cuffs off. So fast that Kurt had completely forgotten to tell Blaine he was allowed to come until the thought worked its way through his lust-fogged brain that Blaine's cries of “Kurt, Kurt please!” were more than just begging for�harder, faster, deeper.”

And now they lay, spent, side by side, holding hands and talking about nothing important in that beautiful space between effort and exhaustion.

“I'm serious,” Kurt prodded. “I want to know. Your favorite part.”

Blaine's fingers moved against his. “That's easy. Your brain.”

“My brain?”

“No contest.”

Kurt pulled his hand free so he could roll up onto his elbow and glare down at Blaine from above. “My�brain?”

“That surprises you?” Blaine asked. “What comes up with all those devious ways to torture me until I'm nothing but a blissed-out lump of desperate submissive throbbing and writhing at your feet? Your brain.”

A part of Kurt wanted to make Blaine say “desperate throbbing submissive” over and over again, maybe record it on his phone for when he was alone, but another part, the part that just wanted a little validation before its nap, was very upset at being thwarted. “You're being ridiculous.”

“I'm talking about you fulfilling all my deepest desires, and you think I'm being ridiculous.”

“'Your brain' is what you say when there's nothing else worth mentioning. I am trying to be self-centered and shallow. So do as you're told and pick a part. And no organs.”

Blaine wiggled his eyebrows in what may have been an attempt at a leer, but as always ended up just looking comical. He traced light fingertips down Kurt's chest. “The skin's an organ, you know.”

“That is a technicality. Pick.”

Blaine's fingers slipped lower. “And this is most definitely an organ.”

Kurt grabbed Blaine's wrist, stopping him from traveling even further south. They'd just had sex, and he was ready for his nap. As soon as he got a little ego stroking. “Thank you, Professor Anderson. No internal organs,” he qualified.

Blaine stroked his chin. “Hmmm …”

“Stop stalling and pick!”

“I can't believe you don't appreciate how hard this is for me. How am I supposed to choose?” Blaine smiled up at Kurt with those pleading puppy eyes that never failed to get Kurt's blood boiling. Except this time. This time they were definitely going to fail because the sex was over and, damn it, Kurt wanted a nap.

“And you call yourself obedient.”

“Well, I could say your eyes, because when you command me, when you're really serious, there's this look that's totally in-control dom, but at the same time there's love and … and pride, like you just know I'm going to do whatever it is perfectly and make it hot as hell at the same time. That look makes me believe I could fly if you ordered me to, and when I did, no one would ever look better doing it.”

“So, my eyes?”

“But then I think about your mouth – fuck, what you do with your mouth. Like the times that you go down on me on a Friday, when I'm so fucking desperate, and you go all slow and hot and teasing – it's such perfect hell. I feel like you're burning me up from the inside out, one cell at a time, and all I want from life is to hear you tell me to come, but I know you're not going to and I'm going to have to sit with your family at dinner and try to say something coherent when all I can think about is that hot, wet tongue dipping into my –“

“No more stalling,” Kurt insisted, because his totally completely spent and exhausted cock was trying to stir and that was so not happening. Nap. Unexpected Wednesday nap. With Blaine.

“But then your hands.” Blaine captured Kurt's free hand and stroked their fingertips together. “Dear God, your hands. Every time you touch me, even the simplest things, is so much more than it's ever been with anyone else. Do you think that's because we're soulmates?”

Kurt's hand was halfway to Blaine's mouth before he could summon up the willpower to snatch it back. “Pick!”

“And I haven't even started on your body – your shoulders and your arms, the way they hold me up when my legs give out, and your waist and your cock – fuck, your cock and the things you do with it, the things you just�did�with it. I don't think you even need to touch me, not really. I'm pretty sure I could come just from your cock inside me. There's no more perfect feeling in the world.”

“Blaine …” Kurt tried to sound very stern, because his dick was definitely stirring and just – no. Twice in ten minutes was much too clich�, even for a teenager.

“Oh, and your thighs, and your knees, and your feet …”

Kurt rolled in one quick move, pinning Blaine under his body. He pulled Blaine's hands up to trap them over his head. “Okay, now you're just asking to be punished.”

“Punished?” Blaine wiggled his eyebrows again. He also wiggled his hips. Right up against where he could undoubtedly feel what the hopeful tone in his voice was doing to Kurt's dick.

Kurt couldn't resist a little grinding back. But he kept his voice stern. “I gave you a very simple command. Now you either follow it or forever relinquish your claim to the title of World's Most Perfect Submissive.”

“Not that!” Blaine gasped.

“Pick!”

“It's not that easy!” Blaine went still under him, at least mostly still. His hips kept moving slowly. Kurt wasn't even sure he was aware he was doing it. He could feel Blaine's cock start to thicken too, against his own, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Blaine to stop. He loved that feeling even more than he loved the idea of a post-unscheduled-sex nap.

“It really is that easy,” he said.

“I'm serious, Kurt,” Blaine said, although the mischievous twinkle in his eyes totally gave him away. “There are too many wonderful things you do, and are. I could never choose a favorite.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, mister. And it's a lie. You said my brain right away.”

“Because your brain is�you. It's what makes everything else as perfect as it is. But�someone�said internal organs don't count.”

“Oh my God! Favorite part of my body. It can't be that hard.”

Blaine's hips stopped moving and he pushed himself up onto his elbows, which forced Kurt to retreat down the bed and settle on his knees between Blaine's legs. “Really?” Blaine asked. “If it's so easy then you do it. What's your favorite part of my body?”

“Your ass,” Kurt said without skipping a beat.

Blaine gaped at him. “My ass?”

“Obviously.”

“Just like that? Favorite part. Out of everything. No need to think about it or –”

“It's a particularly fine ass.”

Blaine pushed himself higher, all the way to sitting, displacing Kurt even further. “Not even a thought for my cock? Which goes through hell for you every day, thank you very much. How much less fun would your life be without my cock to torture?”

Kurt shook his head. “Sorry. I love it, but not as much as your ass.”

“What about my mouth?” Blaine seemed determined to make this choice as difficult for Kurt as it was for him. “If you remember, it was my mouth that inspired you to say ‘fuck' out loud for the first time ever.”

“I don't think so,” Kurt frowned.

Blaine gasped as if Kurt had mortally wounded him. “You totally did!”

“I'm one hundred percent certain that the first time I said ‘fuck' out loud was the first time I actually fucked you. I remember it perfectly. Probably because yourass�was very much involved.”

“You said ‘fuck' the first time I blew you!” Blaine targeted Kurt with an accusatory finger.

“I did not. I would remember that, Blaine.”

Blaine's brow furrowed. “Well, at the very least you said ‘fuuu.'”

It was Kurt's turn to gape. “Fuuu?”

“Fuuu,” Blaine said emphatically.

“'Fuuu' is not ‘fuck,' Blaine. Even if I said it, it doesn't count. And even if it did count, your ass would still win.”

“But it doesn't even do anything!” Blaine practically wailed. “It's just there.”

Kurt grinned at him. “You're only saying that because you can't really see it.”

“I know how to use a mirror.”

“Over your shoulder. And backward. And the angle's all wrong. You are in no position to appreciate its magnificence from that point of view.”

“Well that's the only way I can see it,” Blaine grumbled.

“Why is this upsetting you so much?” Kurt asked.

“Because I have all kinds of great parts, parts that matter, that I do things with that you love, and you just go straight for my boring ass. It's like you're not even trying.”

Blaine's pouting was exaggerated, but Kurt could tell now that he was really upset. “Is that what you think? Its not that I dont love everything else. But your ass - if you could just see…” he began, but then he had a brainstorm. “Oh! I know! Roll over.” He scooted to the side of the bed and pulled Blaine over onto his stomach, tugging the blanket out of the way to expose their topic of conversation to the soft afternoon light. Blaine grumbled, but he went where Kurt put him. The instinct to obey was automatic and too strong to allow him to do anything else.

“Now don't move,” Kurt commanded, and he hopped off the bed and dug in the bag he'd abandoned by the door in the heat of their reunion. He pulled his phone out of an inner pocket.

“What are you doing?” Blaine craned to see as Kurt hopped back up on the bed and aimed the phone in his direction. “Are you taking a picture of my ass?!”

“You can't truly appreciate it until you can see it properly.” Kurt zoomed in on the image, but it went flat from this angle. The fabulous curves were completely lost. “Damn. This perspective's all wrong. Stand up.”

“Comfy!” Blaine protested, wiggling against the sheets.

“UP!” Kurt said, and without even thinking he slapped his hand down hard against Blaine's left cheek.

The both froze, Blaine's yelp of surprise echoing in the air. Kurt could feel Blaine's eyes on him but he couldn't drag his own away from the red stain that bloomed immediately under the skin of one perfect globe. His dick had been flirting with interested since the grinding on the bed but now it was well on its way to fully engaged and when he finally looked back at Blaine's face, the heat in those golden eyes finished the job. Tension, the good kind, sparked in the air between them.

Blaine finally broke the silence with a quiet, provocative, “Yes, sir.” He kept his eyes locked with Kurt's as he climbed off the bed and backed up toward the wall, giving Kurt a perfect view of the effect the slap had had on his own cock. He turned slowly, spotting Kurt as far as he could, and when he finally had to break their gaze Kurt's eyes went right back to that one crimson cheek.

Kurt raised his phone again, but still the picture didn't please him. “It's not right. Try turning just a little toward the dresser.”

“Just take the picture, Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice deeper than usual.

“Something's still wrong,” and even as Kurt said it he knew exactly what it was. He set his phone down on the bed and moved slowly to stand behind Blaine. Who apparently knew what was coming because he braced his hands against the wall and pushed his butt out ever so slightly. Kurt had to take a deep breath and will his hand to stop shaking before he could swing back and deliver an identical smack to the unblemished half of Blaine's ass.

There was no surprised cry this time, just a gasping moan and a shudder. Kurt stepped back, scooped up his phone, and captured the image with hands whose trembling was now totally beyond his control. “Perfect,” he said, staring from the zoomed image to the real thing, flexing in front of him like it was begging for more. “Now come here and look at the picture.”

Blaine slipped back onto the bed in the exact same position as before, face down, ass up, and held out his hand for the phone. “Oh,” was all he said as he stared at it.

“Now do you understand? It's honestly your best feature.”

“Oh my God.” Blaine's voice was soft and breath – too breathy, Kurt realized. No one should sound that turned on staring at his own ass.

“Looking at it is supposed to turn me on, not you.”

“I'm not looking at my ass,” Blaine said in the same trembly tone.

Kurt stared over his shoulder at the screen. “Your ass is the only thing in the picture.”

“I'm looking at your handprint on my ass.”

Kurt looked again and there it was, his fingers, outlined in red against Blaine's skin. The sight of it caught his breath and drained even more blood cells from his brain, so much that it took him far too long to wonder why he was looking at a picture when he had the real thing right in front of him. It was even hotter in the flesh. He reached out and settled his hand over its image on Blaine's body. The skin felt warmer there, and he couldn't help squeezing a little. Blaine made the gaspy moan again, face down in the pillow, the picture on the phone forgotten.

“Kurt?” Blaine said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"Hmm?"

"Im okay with the ass thing."

"Uh-huh."

"And I think Ive decided. My favorite part."

Kurt kept stroking Blaine's warm, red,�spanked�ass. “Really?”

“Your hands. Definitely your hands. Oh, God, don't stop doing that.”

Kurt straddled Blaine's legs so that his cock pressed along the crack of Blaine's ass between the handprints – his handprints – that were starting to fade now. Blaine pushed back a little against the sensation. “Ooh,” he sighed. “What are you doing?”

“I think some of my other parts are jealous now that you've picked my hands,” Kurt said. “They want the chance to make their own cases.”

“Starting with your cock?” Blaine asked hopefully.

“Starting with my mouth,” Kurt answered as he slid back and lowered his lips to the still-warm flesh.

“Does this mean we're not taking a nap?” Blaine asked, voice tight with arousal.

Kurt let his tongue answer for him. An incredibly eloquent answer, if he did say so himself.