“Blaine …” Kurt groans, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. It does nothing to dry his skin though since it’s inundated with sweat. “Blaine, hand me the sunscreen.”

“Wh-what?” a tired voice mutters beside him.

“The sunscreen,” Kurt mumbles.

“What are you talking about, baby?” Blaine blinks heavy eyelids, focusing his sleepy brain on trying to figure out what his boyfriend wants. But sweat from his brow drips into his eyes, and the vision he fought to clear blurs again. All Blaine knows is it’s hot and it’s dark, and for some reason Kurt wants sunscreen.

“Did you forget the sunscreen again?” Kurt feels around with his hand, brushing Blaine’s leg as he gropes for the bottle he’s sure must be somewhere between them. “I’m going to burn like no one’s business if I get any more sun.”

“Kurt …” Blaine reaches out and shakes his sleeping boyfriend. “Kurt, honey, wake up.”

One particularly hard shake has Kurt sitting straight up, blinking and peering into the darkness of their bedroom. He sweeps his gaze around the room, pitch black even for nighttime, confused as to why he thought they were at the beach. He sits still for a moment to get his mental bearings, and figures out why. It’s hot - miserably hot and humid, making it hard for him to breath. Sweat rolls down his arms, his neck, his back, and various other places he didn’t know he could sweat. He even feels it meandering over his scalp, through the strands of his hair. The sheets beneath him squish when he moves, drenched with sweat, and Kurt cringes.

“Gross,” he whines. “What happened to the a/c?”

Blaine sits up beside Kurt, wiping his face with the hem of his t-shirt, and examines the extreme darkness of the loft.

“I think there’s been a brown out,” Blaine says. “Look … the alarm clock’s out, the lamp in the living room’s off …” Blaine gets out of bed and walks to the window, putting a hand over his eyes to see out into the street. “The streetlight’s are on, but I don’t see any lights in the windows.”

“Ugh! Well this sucks! Who knows when they’re going to get the electricity back on? I can’t sleep in this heat!” Kurt flops back on the sweaty sheets. He hears them squelch beneath him, and his jaw drops in disgust. “Yuck!”

Blaine turns slowly, scanning the place while he thinks of a solution.

“Come on,” he says, rushing into the living room and attacking their futon. Kurt can’t see him, but he can hear the rustling of the mattress being moved.

“Blaine …” Kurt grouses. He gets up, his pajamas uncomfortably moist, his limbs weighed down by exhaustion and the intense heat that only seems to get worse when he moves. “The living room isn’t going to be any cooler than the bedroom.”

“We’re not sleeping in the living room.” Blaine opens the window that leads to the fire escape and starts shoving the futon mattress out onto the enclosed metal ledge.

Kurt watches him, too tired and too hot to argue. Blaine pushes the last few inches of mattress outside and claps his hands together in triumph. He turns to Kurt standing a few feet behind him, swaying on his feet.

“Don’t just stand there, Kurt! Go get the pillows and a blanket!” And with a giggle that Kurt has no idea how Blaine has the energy for, Blaine climbs out the window. Kurt shakes his head, torn by Blaine’s solution. He’s not too keen on sleeping outside. The words ‘Kurt’ and ‘the outdoors’ are not often used together in the same sentence. Then again, the idea of melting in an overheated loft isn’t winning any awards either. With a long, overheated sigh, Kurt gathers up the pillows and blankets from their sweat-soaked bed and drags them to the window, feeding them out to a waiting Blaine.

“It’s so much cooler out here! We should be sleeping out here every night, Kurt! Imagine the money we’d save on our electric bill!”

“If you say so.”

Kurt yawns. Saving money on their electric bill would be nice, especially considering how much Con Ed soaks them during the summer. But he’ll be impressed in the morning. Later in the morning. He’s too hot and too tired to care what their bill looks like right now.

He struggles to climb out the window. Blaine offers him a hand when his lounge pants catch on the raised head of a nail embedded in the sill. Kurt steps out on the mattress and climbs beneath the blanket, sighing with relief when a cool breeze swirls around them, sending a welcome chill shooting across his skin.

Kurt closes his eyes, waiting for Blaine to settle down beside him so he can knock unconscious again. He feels Blaine slide beneath the blanket, but after that, Blaine shifts around, bumping Kurt with his elbow and kicking him with his heel.

“Hey! What’s going on back there?” Kurt reaches out a hand to pat whatever part of Blaine he can find. His fingers come in contact with smooth, bare skin, and Kurt’s eyes shoot open.

“Wha---what are you doing?”

“Trying to get comfortable,” Blaine says. “My clothes were strangling me. Besides, it’s not like anyone can see me.”

“I’m not so sure that that would stop you.” Kurt snickers. “You forget, I was there when you pulled a Coyote Ugly down at Amnesia last Friday night. You were nearly down to your briefs before Santana and I yanked you down.”

“Uh … I was also drunk.”

“Hmph. So you say.”

Kurt shuts his eyes and rolls onto his side. Blaine shimmies up behind him. He wraps an arm around Kurt’s waist and pulls him close, pressing their bodies together so Kurt can feel his half-hard cock push against his back.

Kurt scoffs. “No.”

“Come on, Kurt,” Blaine whispers in that velvety voice that can pretty much persuade Kurt to do just about anything. “Give it a shot. Live a little.”

Kurt sighs for show, but smiles since he knows Blaine can’t see him.

“You’re not going to let me sleep until I undress, are you?”

“Probably not,” Blaine admits, shamelessly kissing down Kurt’s neck.

Kurt weighs the pros and cons for a second longer, peeking around to see if any of the other buildings had a clear view of their fire escape.

“Fine.”

Blaine leans away so Kurt can pull off his damp shirt and the pants clinging to his legs. He has to admit, it feels better to be rid of his oppressive clothes. As soon as he’s free of his last piece, Blaine slips up behind him again, fitting his hard-on between Kurt’s cheeks and rutting slowly.

“Blaine …” Kurt moans, slightly irritated … but only slightly. “I have to get to sleep!”

“Then go to sleep,” Blaine murmurs in Kurt’s ear, moving in long, languid thrusts over Kurt’s hole. “I won’t wake you if you do. I promise.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and readjusts his head on the pillow, not willing to divulge that this happens to be one of his favorite secret kinks, though he suspects that Blaine already knows.

“Al-right,” Kurt says dramatically, pushing his ass back against his boyfriend’s cock and closing his eyes, letting the quiet pants of Blaine’s breathing mix with the soothing sounds of the city to lull him to sleep. “Just don’t get too loud, or Mrs. Sponetti upstairs will call the cops on us … again.”