Kurt closes his eyes and smiles, stretching his limbs like a contented cat lying in the warm glow of the golden sun, not worrying (for once) that the light streaming in through the open window might be freckling his skin. The soft sheets beneath him caress his naked body in such a comforting and erotic way as he rocks, his cock rutting against the decadent Egyptian cotton.

He hums with every gentle sway, each push forward sending ripples of pleasure from his pecs to the hollow of his stomach, trickling down below his waist to his thighs.

“Lift your hips a little higher?” Blaine requests, his voice thick with lust and tight with every ounce of his restraint.

Kurt raises an eyelid, turning his head just enough to regard his boyfriend – the look of deep concentration on his face, the way his jaw clenches and his brow furrows. Kurt huffs with mild annoyance at being asked to move, but he grabs the pillow beside his head and shoves it beneath his hips, adjusting it so he can still get that delicious friction around his erection.

“Mmm …” Blaine hums when Kurt finally settles into his cotton cocoon. “That’s it, baby. Thanks.”

Kurt breathes in deep through his nose and out through pursed lips, relaxing again as Blaine resumes his smooth movements, enjoying the slow drag of skin against skin that he doesn’t have to lift a finger to maintain. Kurt admires Blaine’s strength. Physically, it’s one of the most attractive things about him, how he can keep himself hovered over Kurt’s body for so long without a single shudder, without any sign of exhaustion. Blaine’s athleticism makes sex exciting … and, at times, interesting. Hard and fast against the living room wall with Kurt’s legs wrapped around Blaine’s waist and Blaine supporting all of his weight sounded too “cheesy porno” – and dangerous! - to be sensual when Blaine first suggested it. But after some convincing, it has become, by far, one of Kurt’s favorite positions.

Blaine has more endurance than Kurt can fathom, and Sunday is the day they put it to the test. Some people go to church. Others go to brunch with their families. But this is their Sunday ritual. Mid-morning sex in front of the window in the bedroom is how Kurt and Blaine kick off every Sunday. It began spontaneously the first weekend Blaine moved into Kurt’s loft, and ever since that first time, they’ve never missed a single one.

They pull the blinds open to let in the sun (and to add a touch of taboo since the loft is really not that far above sidewalk level), push the head of the bed up against the sill, and there they stay, for hours most times. For Kurt, it isn’t just plain old sex. It’s the purest essence of making love, of being connected. Being together as lovers this way isn’t about the destination.

It’s all about the journey.

Even when they fight, Sunday sex is sacred. On top of that, it’s an elegant problem solver. Angry sex is hot, and afterwards, they usually aren’t all that mad anymore.

“G-god, Kurt,” Blaine moans. “Baby, I’m … I’m gonna cum …”

Kurt reaches a hand back and grabs hold of Blaine’s thigh, pulling his body down on top of him and stilling his hips.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Kurt scolds. “We still have a few hours before our lunch date with Rachel and Mercedes, and I intend on spending every remaining minute right here.”

“O---okay. Okay …” Blaine swallows hard and counts backwards from ten, shivering as he calms himself, pushing away yet another orgasm. “You … you’re going to kill me. You know that, don’t you?” he groans, taking long, slow breaths to kill what remains of the swell that’s been building inside him.

“But you’re going to love every minute of it,” Kurt says, releasing Blaine’s leg and turning his face back to the sunlight.

Blaine chuckles as he starts to move again, leaning down to kiss the spot where Kurt’s shoulder blades meet.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I will.”