Kurt knew from the first night he met Blaine at the races that Blaine was super competitive. In order to be a successful street racer, Blaine would have to be. And, even after moving to New York and living there for years, effectively retired-ish from the racing scene, Blaine Devon Anderson was still considered one of the best street racers in Ohio. But, somehow, Kurt never realized exactly how competitive Blaine was until that competitive nature seeped in to other areas of his life.

To Blaine Anderson, leader of the McKinley Crew, everything became a competition, especially in New York City, where he and his boyfriend didn't really get the chance to race any more. Without that outlet, which they did almost daily back home, he constantly looked for ways to come out on top. Because of this, Kurt knew that it only took Blaine two minutes, thirteen seconds to shower. He could finish a plate of Fettucine Alfredo in four point six minutes flat. He could make it to the subway (an approximately fifteen minute walk for Kurt) in five minutes, two seconds - exactly a minute and a half before his train arrived.

Blaine heralded each new triumph to Kurt with a cheery text message, and Kurt made it a point to send an appropriate Congratulations! back, accompanied by a smiley face and heart emoji.

But mostly, Blaine liked to compete with their next door neighbors, their best friends in the world, Nick and Jeff.

Blaine kept tabs on who left earlier in the morning, who ate the most breakfast cereal in a week, who took the most units at school, and who took the longest to use a tube of toothpaste. Kurt never spoke of this supposed rivalry to either of their friends, and often wondered if they even knew they were competing.

But the one thing that Blaine always considered a competition - the thing that got under his collar the most because, in his mind, he and Kurt were losing - was how often, how long, and how loudly he and Kurt had sex compared to Nick and Jeff. Those two sweet, soft spoken, kind-of-meek guys seemed to fuck more than they did most anything else, and never seemed to take breaks to eat, sleep, or go to the bathroom.

Kurt figured it was because Jeff and Nick were both dancers. Jeff, in particular, was an athlete. Kurt knew from watching him practice that the boy had some impressive stamina.

To say that Kurt hadn't thought about that once or twice would be a lie. Though, in his defense, it was difficult not to think about when their walls were paper thin, and Nick had a tendency to repeatedly moan Jeff's name.

The minute Blaine heard Jeff and Nick walk through their apartment door, no matter what he and Kurt were doing, Blaine would be on his boyfriend - tearing off his clothes (something Blaine could complete in exactly four and a half seconds if Kurt wasn't wearing jeans; if he was, it took closer to seven), locking their lips together, and carrying him to their bedroom where they and their friends shared a wall.

“You know, love,” Kurt grunted, bracing his hands against the wall so Blaine didn't accidentally clock him with an uber-strong thrust…again, “after tonight, I'm going to have a gape in my asshole big enough to drive a Lambo through, with the doors flipped open.”

“That's an image,” Blaine replied with a groan both disgusted and aroused. “How about you do me next, darling? Give your poor, overworked asshole a break?”

“Oh no” - Kurt moaned when Blaine reached around and started feeling him up, pumping his cock lightly, alternating with teasing strokes across his chest - “this is your vendetta. You get to do the work. Leg day isn't until tomorrow for me.”

One thing that both disturbed and amazed Kurt about Blaine's dedication to this fuck marathon was how he had somehow learned Jeff's rhythm; how, just by the sounds they made, Blaine could keep up or slow down, build tension, and then know when to release it. It was almost as hot as the actual sex they were having, being able to cum along with the hot couple fucking on the other side of the wall.

Kurt considered himself a rather jealous boyfriend, but when he was delirious from being fucked dry, and dizzy because Blaine wasn't about to give him a break, he prayed silently that, at some point, there would be a foursome in their future.

Blaine smacked Kurt's ass with the flat of his palm, the stinging slap echoing loudly through the room. He snapped his hips in time to the wet flap-flap-flap of their neighbors who, as far as Kurt knew, could have their hands pressed against the wall right over his. That thought sent waves of erotic pleasure soaring through his tired arms and down his body.

“How's that?” Blaine asked, his voice rough. “Do you like that? Tell me how you want it.”

“God, Blaine,” Kurt moaned, because no matter how exhausted he was, he couldn't deny his body's need to let this out, to keep from bottling it all inside. “Just…just like that…you know how to do me, baby…”

“More?” Blaine asked, insinuating that he had apparently been holding back, which made Kurt want to scream.

If he didn't have rehearsal in ten hours, he might.

“Yes,” Kurt growled between his teeth. “More…more…fuck me, Blaine…fuck me!”

“That's it, darling,” Blaine muttered as he sped up, wincing when he saw how close Kurt's head came to the wall. “Let them hear you.”

“Oh…oh…oh God! Please, Blaine! Please!” Kurt bucked his ass back to meet Blaine, begging for anything he had to give, while the wall beneath Kurt's palm reverberated, a driving bang-bang-bang urging him along, tempting him to ride with it. Blaine's hands on his hips squeezed, his nails digging in, adding to a collection of half-moon shaped marks that Kurt adored.

“Yes…” Kurt peeled one hand from the wall and reached back, past Blaine's hand on his hip, grabbing his right cheek and pulling so Blaine could go deeper. “Yes…yes…yes…yes!”

When that last yes shot across Kurt's lips, he swore he heard one from Jeff, too, and Kurt lost it.

He'd never tell Blaine that though. He'd hate Blaine to know he was actually enjoying this ludicrous contest.

Kurt came, and so did Jeff, pounding his fist on the wall and choking on his own chant of, “Nicky…oh, God, Nicky…Nicky…Nic---” Blaine smiled, listening to the moans and grunts of Nick and Jeff die down through wall, confident that his handsome boyfriend begging for more outdid them this time.

“There,” Blaine panted, crawling up Kurt's body on his hands and knees to whisper against his neck. “I think…we beat them…this time…”

“Great,” Kurt said, too exhausted to move or to add a dash of sarcasm to his voice. “That's just…that's great. Because I never thought I'd say this, but if I have another orgasm, I think I'm going to cry.”

“Go ahead and cry,” Blaine said, kissing the sweat off Kurt's shoulder. “No one's going to judge.”

“And” - Kurt hummed as Blaine's lips brushed his skin - “someone needs to wash these stank-ass sheets, because they're sticky as shit, and I'm all out of quarters for the machine.”

“Well, darling” - Blaine pecked a chaste kiss to the crown of Kurt's head, his lips too chapped and sore to do anything else - “I think we can safely say that…”

“Jeff?”

Blaine's head popped up and he went silent when they heard Nick scolding his boyfriend with a tired but flirtatious giggle.

“What, Nicky?” Jeff teased, his voice muffled, probably because he was traveling down his boyfriend's body to reach his cock. “You have tomorrow off. I'm going to take advantage of it.”

“But, you don't have tomorrow off,” Nicky purred, his argument not sounding all that persuasive with an anticipatory moan starting low in his throat.

“Pfft, like I care,” Jeff said. “I have a half day. To be honest, I feel (cough) like I might be (cough cough) coming down with something.”

“Jeff,” Nick laughed. “You are so badohhh, God! I love it when you do that…yeah…suck me, baby…fucking suck me…”

“Blaine…” Kurt peeked over his shoulder and watched his boyfriend's eyes change, his blank stare at the wall behind them turning narrow and hard. “I don't have tomorrow off either. I ride the subway with Jeff in the morning, remember? It takes us fourteen minutes and nine seconds to get there.”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, moving again, slowly in and out of his boyfriend's body, thankful he hadn't pulled out and gotten soft, “but nobody says you have to stay awake while I fuck you.”

“No,” Kurt whined in agreement, stretching out legs that were cramping from exertion, “but, you know, you'd think you'd want me to be…”

“But, you're agreeing that you don't have to be?” Blaine cut in, speeding up to the sound of Nick cursing, something he did whenever Jeff sucked him off while wearing his barbell through his tongue.

Kurt snickered with disbelief at his ridiculous ass boyfriend. “I guess if we're being technical…”

“So, you're good to keep going?” Blaine didn't wait for an answer, pausing only to lift Kurt's hips, piling pillows beneath him to keep him propped up. Then he squeezed an extra dollop of lube on to his erection.

“Sure,” Kurt yawned, folding his arms under his pillow, resting his head and shutting his eyes, “just, you know, wake me when it's over.”