“So, which position do you think we should try?” Blaine asks, unbuttoning Kurt's shirt from behind while Kurt, with a brand new and daunting book open in his lap, flips through the pages.

“I don't know if I'm qualified to choose,” Kurt remarks, lifting his ass an inch off the floor so Blaine can slip the tails of his shirt out of his pants.

“Okay” – Blaine peeks over Kurt's shoulder, laying kisses on his bare neck – “should we try position 15?”

Kurt tilts his head right, then back in the opposite direction.

“I don't think I've stretched out enough for position 15.”

Blaine reaches around Kurt's body, brushing his abs with his fingertips before he thumbs through the pages, anticipation making him half-hard and bobbing against his husband's naked back. “What about position 92?”

“Oh no,” Kurt says quickly, leaning back an inch so Blaine can unzip his pants. “We don't have enough medical coverage to try position 92. Not after that pole dancing accident of two years ago.”

“Alright…” Blaine sighs, close to dry humping his husband if he doesn't make a decision soon. “How about position 96?”

“Absolutely not!” Kurt gasps. “I'm not violating my dining room table! My dad gave us that table! He made it with his own hands! It's reclaimed mahogany!”

“Alright, alright,” Blaine chuckles, sucking at a spot at the juncture of Kurt's neck to calm him down and get him back in the mood. “How about 67?”

Kurt shakes his head, but gently so as not to dislodge Blaine's mouth from his neck. “I don't think I'm psychologically ready for position 67.”

“Well, what position do you want to try tonight?” Blaine asks, a little bit tense, his whole body throbbing with sexual frustration.

Kurt turns to meet his husband's heated gaze. “How about we ditch the book, and do what we do best?”

Blaine relaxes. He smiles. He takes the book out of Kurt's lap and closes it, putting all those complicated sexual positions to rest.

“I think” - he takes his husband's hands and helps him stand – “that sounds like an excellent choice.”