"Where do you think you're going?" Blaine pauses halfway to upright, regards him with warm eyes, and leans back into Kurt, and summery humidity to press their smiles together.

"Pants." He says into Kurt's mouth, and drags himself away from crinkly blue eyes, crawling with heavy limbs to the end of the bed where he collapses on his stomach. Kurt looks on with amusement as Blaine strains half off the mattress to grope at the hardwood 5 feet away.

"You know, there's this whole standing up thing that's all the rage these days..." Blaine makes a pleased noise as his outstretched fingers close around soft plaid, and he pumps his fist victoriously, boxers dangling.

"Or. You know. That." Fondness seeps into Kurt's voice, and his sarcasm has zero bite. His arms open as Blaine wiggles back up the bed, sinking into Kurt's body and wrapping his arms as far around him as they'll go. Blaine mumbles an answer into Kurt's chest, nosing along his skin and pressing kisses along his trail.

"Easier. Warm here. Bed's good."

"... It's somewhat flattering that I can render you incoherent."

In all honesty, this was Kurt's favourite version of his boyfriend, sleepy, and pliant and deliciously clingy, and even better was the knowledge that he'd made him that way.

Blaine hmm's in return, and Kurt's hands sink into his hair, twisting his curls before letting them spring free.

"My dad'll be home soon."

"Yes."

"Blaine." 

"Yeah Kurt, I know that man's schedule. It's like my boner immediately dies at the stroke of 5:00."

"Oh my god Blaine."

"Ugh do I have to..." Kurt tightens his arm around him, printing this feeling in his memories for revisiting, in his heart, in his bones where he can live in it, inhabiting this precious sunshiney, sated, place even after Blaine had gone home. Even when he was in New York.

"I really wouldn't be saying anything if you didn't have to."

"Right. Well then." Blaine heaves himself upright again, supported on the shaky arms bracketing Kurt's torso. He grins again, soft like he forgot Kurt was beneath him, like he's surprised every time.

"Hey." Kurt laughs, feeling stupid with how in love he is.

"Hey Blaine." Blaine nuzzles his neck, then his chest.

"Hey, hey Kurt. I love you lots." Kurt's smile wobbles a little.

"Yeah."

"I want to not leave. I want to stay here and map out every line of you, and kiss all of them and then live in you okay?"

"Bla-aaine you can't say things like that when my dad's going to be here in -shit, now." Blaine groans and backs out of bed, still kissing down Kurt's body as he goes.

"Blaine!"

"Yeah, I know, hey, going, look, getting out of bed, standing up even though I can't feel my legs..." Kurt snorts, and his arms fall limply to his sides with nothing to cling to.

Blaine's hesitantly upright, stepping into his boxers and almost losing his balance in the struggle to slide them over his hips. A plain grey t-shirt is next and Kurt pouts as expanses of tanned skin are encased in cotton.

Blaine catches his expression and gives him a look.

"Hey. It was your choice man." Kurt crinkles his nose in distaste.

"Don't call me man, it's weirding me out, I feel like Finn's in my bedroom. Or Puckerman." He shudders. Blaine abandons his jeans in favour of collapsing back into bed, leaning in close.

"Weirding isn't a word." Kurt shoves him away, unimpressed.

"You're not supposed to correct me you're supposed to tell me how brilliant I am and then... I don't know give me a blowjob or something. This is a boyfriends duty, I'm certain of it." Blaine smiles winningly.

"You're brilliant." He reaches for the sheet draped over kurt's hip, but he bats his hand away, ignoring the surge of heat swooping in his stomach, and glaring with absolutely no weight at his boyfriend.

"Preferably not when my my shotgun toting father could walk in." Blaine's up in a flash, reaching for discarded jeans before pausing thoughtfully.

"Does it usually take us this long to get dressed?" Kurt rolls into a sitting position, and drags a hand through his hair.

"You know, I think it actually does. I think this is what sitcoms refer to as the 'honeymoon stage', like -" Blaine grins at his ridiculously adorable boyfriend, resisting the urge to ruffle his already mussed hair, and pinch his already flushed cheeks.

"-you know. The allergic to pants phase. We're there." Blaine drops his pants for the fifth time, cups Kurt's face in his hands and kisses his nose, his eyelids and warm against his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and letting it go with a pop, cherry red and swollen.

"I hope we're never not there. I like you without pants." 

"Mmm. Likewise." Kurt's palms slide against the grain of the short hair at the base of his neck, and Blaine shivers.

"I love you, love you, love you." He croons and Kurt finally stands, sheet clutched to his hip as he brushes his lips over Blaine's, a shadow of a kiss that gets deeper with every movement until the sheet slips with a whisper to the floor.