It’s barely past eleven in the evening, and the city that never sleeps is caught in its usual feverish state, a chaos of people, cars and life.

Kurt loves it. He has loved it from the first time he managed to walk around its streets, completely in awe and so excited by everything that his first National championship hadn’t mattered in confront. It had taken a while to get used to, after spending all his life in a small town like Lima, and there had been moments in which the feeling of too much, too fast had threatened to overwhelm him. But he had adapted, and he had come to love even the most tiring aspects of his life.

In the small apartment he shares with his boyfriend and best friend, Kurt hums happily under his breath, applying the final touches to his carefully styled hair. He smiles as he washes the texture of the gel from his hands, a memory flashing in front of his eyes. He doesn’t know how it’s possible, but during his senior year of high school Blaine had started to use even more hair gel, in the idle hope to completely tame his curls for him to pass unnoticed; as a result, in the first months after he had finally joined Kurt in New York, they had gone over a countless number of bottles of gel. Luckily, with time the City had done miracles for his boyfriend‘s self-confidence and he had started to use less and less product, until he gave them up entirely. At least, for his everyday life. Of course, it also helped that they didn’t have a lot of money and needed to save money on something - it was incredible how quickly Blaine had decided between hairgel and lube.

He is shaken out of his thoughts by Rachel’s voice on the other side of the door. 

“Are you done, Kurt? I need to brush my teeth!”

“Yes!” he calls out, putting away his products and unlocking the door. 

“Thanks.”

She glides into the bathroom, glancing at Kurt’s black skinny jeans and knee high boots with a nod of approval. “I’m taking a risk and guessing that you won’t be back until late. Am I right?” 

“Probably,” he confirms, watching her pull out the toothpaste. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Rachel shakes her head. 

“No, I have to get up very early for reharsal and you know it. But thanks,” She smiles. 

“Now go get your other half, he’s been waiting for you for a while now.” 

Kurt laughs as Rachel sticks the toothbrush into her mouth, signaling the end of the conversation. He walks out of the bathroom, starting to hum the undefined tune again that has been stuck in his head all day long already.

When he finally enters the bedroom, a bright smile is set on his face as his eyes search for his boyfriend - and his breath catches in his throat. Blaine is wearing a pair of jeans and a simple, white tank top - so tight that he can easily see the outline of his muscles through it - under a black fishnet shirt, and it doesn’t matter how many times Kurt has seen him perfectly dressed or completely naked, Blaine’s beauty still takes his breath away like the first time on that Dalton staircase. 

He kind of wants this to never change.

Blaine is grinning from ear to ear as he gives a little twirl to show off his clothes. “Ready to go clubbing? How do I look?”

Kurt lets his eyes trail over Blaine’s ass and then along his chest appreciatively, sensing the familiar tug on his belly and - no. The pants he is wearing are far too tight for this and if he continues this train of thoughts they’re never going to leave the apartment.

“I’m quite impressed at how your clubbing outfits have evolved from bowties to this,” he settles for answering. “You look like the living fantasy of half the gay men of New York,” he replies, taking a few steps into the room. 

Blaine grins even wider and closes the distance between them, hooking his fingers in Kurt’s belt loops and pressing closer. 

“Mmh...” he murmurs with a smirk, tilting his head upwards to trail a line of close mouthed kisses up Kurt’s jaw. 

Kurt’s eyes flutter close as he hums happily in his throat, and then Blaine smirks again and whispers directly in his ear, breath hot against his skin, “All those men out there, and you’re the only one that gets to touch me.”

Kurt groans low in his throat, fisting a hand in the net of Blaine’s shirt. Damn him.

He barely restrains himself from grabbing his boyfriend’s face and shoving his tongue down his throat, knowing ful well that it would simply lead to them stumbling to the bed. Instead, he lets out a breathy laugh, disentangling himself from his boyfriend. 

“You’re awful.”

“You love it, “ Blaine retorts, but he shoots him an apologetic smile. “Are you ready?”

Kurt points to the simple white shirt he’s wearing and lifts an eyebrow. 

“What do you think?” He asks, retorically, walking past a laughing Blaine and opening their closet. He picks up a couple of harnesses - if Blaine is going to go out with a fishnet shirt he is fully allowed to wear bondage gear, thank you very much - and artfully arranges them around his torso, careful to not tighten them too much. It takes a while, but with a final tug and a look in the bedroom mirror he nods. 

“Now I’m ready” 

When he turns, Blaine eyes are dark and fixed on him, and it’s Kurt turn to smirk. 

Mission accomplished.

“Come on, honey. It’s time to go out.”

*

The club is dark, hot, and overly crowded and just perfect in its flashy lights and sweaty, dancing bodies.

Kurt smiles, taking a small sip from his third drink of the evening. His head is starting to feel pleasantly fuzzy and he knows that Blaine must be in the same conditions, if not worse. He lets his gaze travel to where is boyfriend is still dancing on the dancefloor, and he is debating whether to abandon his drink and join him or not - some people had started to become a little too interested in his boyfriend for his liking - when Blaine’s eyes meet his. With a happy grin, Blaine untangles himself from the other dancers and starts to saunter towards Kurt.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches Kurt, voice breathless and loud to overcome the loud music, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist without hesitation.

“Hey to you too” is the instant reply, as Kurt’s eyes scan the flushed face of his boyfriend, taking in the sweat glistening on his skin and the curls plastered to his forehead. He grins, trailing his thumb along his boyfriend’s jawline. “Having fun?”

Blaine hums, nodding, before raising his head to peck him on the lips. “I would have more fun if you were with me, though.”

“I was taking a break,” he answers, distracted, as he lowers one hand to stroke Bliane’s chest and tug gently on the fishnet shirt, before curling his palm around a bicep. There’s so much heat radiating from Blaine’s skin, and Kurt has to bite his lips to keep himself from bending forward and lick a drop of sweat slowly making its way down Blaine’s neck. He is still amazed sometimes at how much and how fast a sweaty Blaine can turn him on. 

He raises his gaze again and he is met with a smirk, which he returns.

“You’re too distracting.” Kurt says, shaking his head.

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” Blaine asks, moving even closer and effectively pressing Kurt against the bar.

Kurt laughs, sneaking his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder and tugging him closer to press his lips against the shell of his ear. 

“Good,” he whispers, loud enough to be heard only by Blaine, before sucking the lobe into his mouth. Blaine trembles and presses his hands to Kurt’s hips, squeezing. 

“Very good,” he adds, hot breath on his moist skin, dipping down to lick the drop of sweat that teased him before.

“God, Kurt,” Blaine’s voice is breathless as he tugs on Kurt’s hair. “Come dance with me.”

He hums, affirmative, but glances at the bar “I have to finish-”

Before he can continue, however, Blaine grabs the glass and drains the remainder of the drink, putting it down and grinning victoriously. 

“Come on!”

Kurt laughs, shaking his head, and lets himself be dragged off into the pile of sweaty, dancing bodies.

The loud music hits him like a physical wave as he makes his way towards the middle of the dancefloor, but he just pushes through the sea of bodies, Blaine’s hand is a solid weight in his, until they find an empty small space where they can fit into. 

Kurt feels himself almost immediately being tugged from the front, and suddenly Blaine’s body is pressed against his, hot and heavy, arms wound around his neck. He grins, resting his hands on his boyfriend’s waist, and starts to move to the rythm of the music, a gentle roll of hips as he stares into amber eyes.

They don’t say anything, and a few minutes pass while they dance together, calm and innocent. Then Kurt closes his eyes, feeling his head sway with the alcohol as the music changes to a lower, heavier beat and suddenly Blaine’s lips are on his neck, sucking and nipping at his pulse point without preamble, sending a wave of electricity directly to his dick.

A low moan rips out of his throath, but the sound is lost in the club, swallowed by the thrumming bass. 

He fists a hand in his boyfriend’s hair in retaliation, tugging, and Blaine groans, ripping his mouth apart from Kurt’s skin and panting roughly against the newly formed hickey. Kurt tugs again, forcing him to raise his head and, without giving him a minute to focus, he slams his mouth over his and forces his tongue past the seal of Blaine’s lips.

Blaine surges as he meets him, tongues dancing and twisting against each other, battling furiously for dominance. It’s a hard, sloppy kiss, with too much saliva and the taste of the alcohol overpowering everything else. 

Kurt feels himself grow harder with each sweep of tongue and grind, and he grips Blaine’s hips tighter, tilting his head to bear down on the kiss more forceful.

With a gasp and a broken, low moan, Blaine surrenders and lets Kurt push both tongues in his mouth, going pliant in his arms.

One hand snakes down Kurt’s chest where his shirt clings to his skin, and he tugs harshly on one of the harnesses, bringing them impossibly closer. 

Kurt’s thigh sneaks between Blaine’s legs and they both break the kiss with a loud moan, feeling their erections pressed against each other’s hipbone.

They are panting raggedly and Kurt’s head is spinning from the alcohol and the arousal as he takes in his boyfriend’s disheveled aspect. Blaine still has a death grip on the harnesses and his face is flushed, lips red and kiss-swollen and pupils blown, the amber nearly drowned out. His tank top is wet with perspiration and tiny droplets are shining over his naked skin, chest expanding with each too fast breath. He looks positively delicious and, as Kurt stares into his eyes, so completely and utterly his.

“Kurt.”

It’s a broken, low moan, and Kurt has to close his eyes for a couple of seconds to collect himself, all blood in his body seemingly flowing south. 

He licks his lips, trying to think clearly. He knows that look in Blaine’s face, knows how all of this will end if they don’t stop now, but every cell in his body is screaming at him to get closerclosercloser to Blaine and, if the little, needy sounds his boyfriend is still making are any indication, he is on the same wavelength.

Kurt’s gaze slips from the warm body in his arms to the crowd dancing around them, and a jolt of electricity shots down his spine when he notices that people are staring. Dark, hungry, lascivious eyes sweep over them and, while he imagines that some of them are directed to him, he knows that a good portion of them is fixed on Blaine. Waiting, hoping, that he will be left alone on the dancefloor. 

The knowledge that those people are probably all picturing themselves running their foreign, big hands over his boyfriend’s body but that they will never get the chance because Blaine is his, is enough to make him completely, unmistakably and painfully hard. There’a a bone deep satisfaction at the thought that he - his hands, his arms, his cock - is the only one that Blaine’s body has ever known and will ever know and, in a rush of heady possessiveness, he spins him around until they are chest to back, his breath coming in short pants and his erection pressing against Blaine’s ass.

“Kurt,” he repeats, but Kurt silences him.

“Sssh,” he murmurs hotly in his ear. “Just feel.”

He rolls his hips, gently at first and then with more purpose, tightening his grip around Blaine’s waist. His lips trail a wet path down his neck, tongue sneaking out to lick at the beads of sweat that are constantly taunting his sight, until he seals his mouth over Blaine’s pulse point and sucks. Hard. 

Blaine’s body immediately snaps, keening, eyes falling shut and ass grinding back against Kurt’s crotch, eliciting a groan from the other boy.

Kurt doesn’t let go. Instead, he bites on the same spot as he practically starts to rut against his boyfriend’s body, hands coming up to his chest to tangle in the net of his shirt. Blaine goes limp in his arms and his head rolls back to rest on his shoulder.

Kurt’s eyes wander across the room again, meeting the gaze of each person who is still watching with a daring one. 

He’s always been possessive, but this utter need to prove to the world that the beautiful, writhing boy in his arms is his - this is new. It’s heady, and exciting.

He finally moves his lips from the massive hickey he’s created, sucking wet kisses until he reaches Blaine’s jaw. Only then he raises his head and turns his attention to him. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers in his ear, without stopping his grinding motions. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

Blaine’s head lolls to the side, eyelids lifting heavily to reveal unfocused, almost black eyes. Kurt’s breath catches in his throat, and it feels like a dam has been opened in his mind because suddenly he can’t stop talking.

“You’re so beautiful and sexy, sweetheart. They are all watching, do you know it?” Blaine tries to raise his head to look, but one of Kurt’s hands lifts and presses delicately against his jawline, preventing him from changing position. He continues. “They are all picturing themselves in my position, wishing they were the ones to do this to you, but it’s only me - it’s always been only me, isn’t it?”

“Yes” he manages to gasp, turning his head to place wet kisses up Kurt’s jaw. Kurt’s hands drop, dragging heavily across Blaine’s abs only to hover dangerously close to his crotch. He swallows. “Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to stroke your beautiful, big cock and get you off on the middle of the dancefloor?” 

It feels strange somehow, since Blaine is usually the one that talks dirty during sex, but maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe he is just drunk of being young and in love in the city of his dreams. He doesn’t care, he just wants.

“Want me to drag you to the backroom?” he dares, then, panting as he practically ruts against Blaine’s asscheeks, giving up all pretense of trying to keep up with the music. He almost laughs, because the Kurt of some years ago would have been scandalized, but now he just feels free and powerful. 

There aren’t any judging looks around them, only aroused ones. God, he loves New York.

Blaine moans, and Kurt buries his face in his neck. They’ve never done this, never done proper public sex before. They’ve come close a few times, but they usually have the willpower to cool down enough to take things to the privacy of their own bedroom. In this moment, however, he doesn’t want to wait. He doesn’t want to calm down. He’s too turned on, he just wants to ride this wave of adrenaline and see how high it can bring them both. 

He finally slips his hand lower, palming roughly over Blaine’s erection through his jeans.

“Want me to push you against a wall and drop to my knees? Want to show all those men how gorgeous you are when you come? Want them to know that I am the only one who gets to do that, to touch you, to bring you to the brink and then keep you there for minutes, hours, until you’re a begging mess...”

“Kurt!” it’s a broken sob as he grips Kurt’s neck tightly, forcing him to stop the movement of his hips. For a brief, panicked moment Kurt thinks he has gone too far. But then Blaine turns, eyes completely black and sags against him, pressing his lips roughly against his and moaning a shaky “Please”.

“Please what?” 

He is trembling, but he has to make sure.

“Please do it, please take me, please show them all that I’m yours-”

Kurt attacks his mouth again, positively devouring him, and then with a groan he tears away his lips and grabs Blaine’s hand, dragging him out of the dancefloor.

*

The smell of sweat and sex hits them as soon as they enter the backroom. They freeze for a moment, standing still and taking in the sight of so many naked bodies sliding together as moans and grunts fill the air.Even through the haze of the alcohol and adrenaline Kurt can feel a blush creeping up his neck, and he suddenly feels much less drunk and much more akward, but then Blaine squeezes his hand, and he is brought back to the reason he’s here in this moment.

With a steady, calming breath, he backs his boyfriend towards an unoccupied corner, stopping only when Blaine’s back hits the wall. They’re still panting raggedly, staring into each other’s eyes, searching. Blaine raises his free hand to cup Kurt’s jaw, a small smile curling his red, damp lips. 

“I love you.” It’s a whisper, but to Kurt it’s louder than the groans and the music. 

He finally lets out a shaky laugh. Blaine is okay with this. Blaine wants this as much as him. He presses his lips to his boyfriend’s mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss for a while. They kiss lazily and unhurried for a few minutes, lips and tongues sliding together without too much pressure, mindless of the other people in the room. Kurt finally breaks the kiss, humming happily in his throath.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, a second before slotting one of his thighs between Blaine’s and pressing upwards, grinning at his boyfriend’s high moan. “But I do believe I have a promise to keep.”

Without further hesitation, he drops to his knees.

For a brief, clear moment, he thinks that he really doesn’t want to know the sanitary state of the floor (and he is so glad that he chose the black jeans and not the white ones tonight), but Blaine’s groin is right there and he is shifting restlessly, trying to ease the uncomfortable pressure in his pants. 

Without preamble, Kurt raises both the black fishnet shirt and the damp tank top, pressing several sweet, close-mouthed kisses on the newly revealed skin. Deft fingers start to undo the fly of Blaine’s jeans, and Kurt lets out a broken moan at the realisation that he is not wearing underwear.

“Blaine...”

The tone must be questioning enough, because immediately one of his boyfriend’s hands is cupping is cheek. 

“I- I figured something like this would happen.”

At Kurt’s raised eyebrow, he lets out a breathless laugh.

“Well... not exactly like this, but - you know. I thought you’d have liked easy access. For... when we came back home.”

Kurt moans again, and oh god he loves Blaine so much, tugging the jeans down and licking his lips when Blaine’s erection springs free, hard and flushed and already leaking precome.

Ignoring every single fiber of his being screaming at him to touch, taste, have, he breathes heavily and just stares, because the body in front of him looks amazing in the dim lights of the backroom, hips thrusting involuntarily in the air, searching for friction. He smoothes his palms softly up and down Blaine’s thighs, enjoying the feeling of the hairs and even the sticky texture of the sweat.

“Kurt...”

He ignores the breathy plea and follows his hands with his mouth, tracing his tongue from the soft inner tigh to the crease, finally stopping at the jutting of his hipbone, burying his face against his boyfriend’s crotch and inhaling deeply, taking in the musky smell of sweat and sex and Blaine.

“God, Blaine,” Kurt breathes. “You feel amazing.” He closes his mouth over the soft skin and starts to suck, his hand raising to slowly jerk his boyfriend’s cock. 

There’s a soft thud as Blaine’s head connects with the wall, and Kurt hums appreciatively, working the skin with teeth, tongue and suction at the same lazy, maddening pace of the handjob.

When he pulls away he stills for a few seconds, admiring with pupil-blown eyes the massive hickey he left on the hipbone, before Blaine’s slowly thrusting hips return his attetion to the (gorgeous, hard) cock in front of him. Stilling his hand at the base, he slides his mouth up along the length of him, curling his tongue around the head in a familiar motion that he knows to always drive Blaine mad. Sure enough, his hips jerk away from the wall but Kurt is unrelenting, pushing him back against it and smirking at the choked off sound coming from his boyfriend. He wants this to last, he wants to tease, he wants Blaine so out of his mind that he can’t even form proper words.

He pulls away for a second, fumbling with the zip of his own jeans and sighing when he is relieved from some of the pressure. Tracing the prominent vein that runs along Blaine’s dick with a fingertip, he presses a soft kiss to the underside, lips replaced almost immediately by his tongue as he starts to rub against it again and again, mindless of the saliva dropping down his chin. Blaine keens above him and Kurt pulls away, breathing hot air against too-hot and wet skin and, when he traces the slit to collect the precome gathered there, Blaine can’t help it - he thrusts forward, trying to get more of something, of everything, but his dick just slides smoothly and wetly along Kurt’s cheek.

“Kurt, please.”

Kurt laughs breathlessly, stroking one of his boyfriend’s calves affectionately, before gripping his hips (Blaine’s breath catches in his throath when the thumb presses down onto the hickey) and sucking the head of his dick into his mouth.

Blaine shouts at the abruptness of it, his voice turning into a stream of incoherent moans.

“Oh god - Kuuurt. Fuck.”

Kurt slowly sinks down, feeling the head of Blaine’s cock rubbing on his hard palate, and then he slides back with light suction. He sets up a good rythm, bobbing his head and stroking with one hand the part that his mouth is not reaching, enjoying Blaine’s sounds of pleasure. 

He works Blaine slowly and surely, with tongue and lips and suction and the confidence of a long time lover, and then sinks down further and hums, soft and deep. Blaine’s hands shoot up to tangle into Kurt’s hair, body curving into intself.

“Fuckfuckfuck Kurt - oh god please, please don’t stop - fuck Kurt so good...”

Blaine keeps babbling, and Kurt slowly opens his eyes, searching for his boyfriend’s face through his eyelashes, but all he sees is the expanse of his torso, strung tight with tension, and the line of his jaw. He retreats, wiping the saliva and precome that gathered at the corner of his mouth.

“No,” Blaine whines. “Why did you stop?”

“Blaine,” Kurt says, voice rough. “Fuck my mouth.”

Blaine freezes for a second, looking down at Kurt with dark eyes, trying to focus through the haze of lust. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” 

It’s all the warning Blaine gets before Kurt’s mouth is back on his cock, tongue flat as he sinks lower than before and slides his hands to grip Blaine’s asscheeks, yanking him forward. He isn’t teasing anymore, and he hums happily when the grip in his hair becomes rougher and Blaine finally starts to thrust, forcing more of his dick into Kurt’s mouth.

Kurt just slackens his jaw, mindless of the mess that is dribbling down his chin and neck, and he’s always surprised at how much he loves this, the feeling of the hard length of his boyfriend’s cock sliding in and out, big and heavy on his tongue. He loves the salty and slightly bitter taste, and he loves that he can just forget everything and let Blaine - well, use him. He even likes the ache settling in his jaw.

It doesn’t take long before Blaine’s rythm becomes unsteady, hips jerking and curses mixed with praises tumbling out of his mouth. With a last swirl of his tongue around the head, Kurt yanks Blaine’s cheeks apart, gripping so tightly that he’s sure it’s going to leave finger-shaped bruises on them, and takes him right down his throat.  

Blaine shouts, fighting to keep his balance, and then Kurt is swallowing once, twice, pressing with a dry finger on his boyfriend’s tight hole, and Blaine is gone.

He comes hard and long, back arching and hands slamming against the wall, shooting his come deep down Kurt’s throat. Kurt works him through it, sucking gently and pulling back only when Blaine’s hips twitch away with oversensitivity, and his thighs are trembling so violently that he collapses on the floor the minute he starts to come down from his orgasm.

Blinking dreamily, Blaine lets his gaze wander over Kurt’s red, puffy lips and flushed cheek, looking at him almost reverently.

“Holy... Oh my god, Kurt.”

Kurt lets out a small laugh, wincing slightly at how hoarse and raspy it sounds. He is breathing heavily, his own neglected dick rock hard and straining, still cofined in the fabric of his underwear. Blaine seems to notice, because he shakes himself out of his post orgasmic haze and shuffles forward, almost climbing into Kurt’s lap.

“Let me,” he whispers softly in his ear, working his boyfriend’s cock free and starting to jerk him off with fast, tight strokes that are not for teasing. “Fuck, you’re so hard.” 

Kurt buries his face in Blaine’s shoulder with a grateful moan, planting open mouther kisses over the damp, salty skin. It feels like he’s been hard for hours, and maybe it’s true.

“Not gonna- not gonna last.”

“Then don’t. Come on, Kurt.” 

There’s enough precome that the slide is easy, almost smooth, and Kurt shifts his hips forward, fucking himself into Blaine’s fist and panting heavily against his clavicle.

“God, Kurt, you’re so hard, so fucking hard just from blowing me...” Blaine’s voice is deep and growly in his ear as he talks him towards release. “Come on, baby, come for me, please, you are so gorgeous when you come...”

He twists his wrist in the next upward stroke and that’s it, Kurt lets out a high pitched moan, biting hard into his neck and gripping his biceps as he comes all over Blaine’s fist and his shirt.

He comes down slowly, hugged tightly into the embrace of his boyfriend, who is pressing small kisses all over his face, murmuring praises. He smiles sleepily, sated and happy, and raises his head enough to capture Blaine’s lips in a slow, sloppy kiss.

He draws back sooner than he’d like, his lips still too sore. 

“I love you.”

He murmurs, stroking his thumb along Blaine’s jawline.

“I love you too.” The reply is immediate. “God, I’m going to have so many bruises tomorrow.”

Kurt arches an eyebrow, pressing a soft kiss to the spot on Blaine’s neck that is currently sporting the marks of his teeth. “You love them.”

Blaine grins, stroking lazily along Kurt’s side. “Yeah, I do.”

A loud groan coming from somewhere in the room startles them out of their trance. Kurt grimaces, suddenly reminded of exactly where they are, and then burst out into laugher.

“Oh my - I can’t believe we did that. I can’t believe I said all those things.” 

Blaine grins back, squeezing his hip. “For what counts, it was incredibly hot. Like, really really hot. Super hot.”

Snorting, Kurt shakes his head. “God, you are so eloquent after orgas- Blaine.”

“What?”

“You are sitting on this floor without your pants on! Oh my god, get up!” 

Realizing it too, he struggles to get up, limbs still loose from his orgasm and jeans around his calfves, but he manages, and soon they are both standing and stumbling out of the backroom. Without the haze of the alcohol and lust, the place doesn’t look inviting at all. 

Kurt leans against a wall, hugging Blaine close.

“So, shall we go back home?”

“Mmh,” Blaine mumbles, nuzzling his nose against Kurt’s neck. “If you don’t mind. I want to cuddle.”

Kurt smiles fondly, running his hand through Blaine’s curls. He knows his hair must look like a mess, but he is too relaxed to mind at the moment. 

“Then let’s go. If you’re lucky, we might even be ready for round two before we fall asleep."

“What about Rachel?"

“Let’s just hope she went to bed with earplugs. Or... “ he trails off, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ll have to be really quiet. ”

Blaine groans. “Kurt, are you trying to kill me?”

“I might even have to gag you, with how loud you-”

He is cut off by a hard kiss pressed to his lips, but before he can respond, Blaine is tugging him by the hand out of the club. Laughing, Kurt just shakes his head and lets himself be guided through the mass of dancing bodies, and then out into the cool New York night.