The slamming of the front door echoed through the empty apartment as Blaine stalked into the living room, throwing his overcoat over the back of the couch and his briefcase to the floor. His arms slipped out of his suit coat, and he let it drop to the ground as his fingers played with the knot in his tie. It felt like the offending material was choking him, and he pulled until it was loose. Ripping it off over his head, he flung it away where it landed haphazardly draped over the mirror. He kicked his shoes off his feet, one sliding under an end table, the other under the couch.

"Great. Now I'm going to have to fish them out tomorrow morning," he grumbled to the empty room. He hated working late into the night. It always made him irritable.

He padded to the kitchen, his sock-clad feet whispering across the cold hardwood floor. Wrenching open his refrigerator, his stomach rumbled loudly as he gazed at the nearly empty shelves. Sighing in annoyance and hunger, he grabbed a beer and threw the door closed. Popping the cap, he listened as the metal hit the marble countertop, the metallic ping being swallowed up by the deafening silence.

Gripping the neck of the bottle in his fingers, he made his way back to the living area, pushing aside the curtains that covered the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the bustling city below. But it wasn't the flashing lights, the cars rumbling along the crowded streets, and the familiar sounds that commanded his attention. It was the apartment directly across from his.

Blaine slipped one hand into his pocket, the other bringing the bottle up to his lips. The smooth golden liquid slid down his throat as he waited, watching patiently. He spared his watch a quick glance.

9:44 p.m.

As he waited for that last minute to tick by, he saw the light appear in the apartment in question. Turning back to the window, he took two more steps forward, his nose inches from the glass.

9:45…Like clockwork.

A flash of brown hair passed in front of the window before disappearing from view again. He huffed quietly, a thin mist fogging up the window. He downed his beer in one drink, sparing another glance at the window. Not seeing him, Blaine headed back toward the kitchen. Keeping one eye on the window, he set the empty bottle on the counter. He'd take care of it later. He moved about his place, turning the lights off one by one until the only light came from the city outside.

Blaine slowly made his way back into the living room, popping the first four buttons on his crisp, white shirt to reveal the upper half of his chest. Grabbing the nearest armchair, he slid it silently across the floor, stopping about 3 feet in front of the window – just close enough to see clearly but far enough not to be completely bathed in light to be noticeable. Settling down into the seat, he slouched down slightly and rested his head against the back with his legs spread out before him.

Blaine waited.

The man across the street danced around his apartment, performing basic housekeeping duties. Blaine watched as he swayed his hips to the beat that had to be pouring out of the expensive stereo that lined the wall. His head bobbed along as his lips mouthed the words.

Blaine shifted in the chair, smiling slightly, eyes trained on the man's lips. A pink tongue darted out and traced the plump flesh, leaving a glistening trail in its wake. Blaine's fingers twitched, digging into the armrests briefly before releasing. He shook his head, not letting his mind wander any farther. It was only a matter of time.

Blaine stiffened as the man disappeared from the living room and came back into view once more, this time in his bedroom which offered Blaine more to look at. But instead of going about his nightly business, he stopped directly in front of the window. Looking out onto the city below, he pushed his curtains back, offering a better view of the bed. Blaine smirked as he watched the curtain being pulled back on his personal stage

Turning back to the bed, the man leaned over to pull the extra pillows off the bed, tossing them to the floor and offering Blaine a perfect view of his ass. His tight jeans hugged every curve, and Blaine licked his lips hungrily.

Blaine's hands moved to his wrists, undoing the cuffs and rolling his sleeves up and out of the way. He sat up a little straighter. Waiting.

The man, who had moved around to the other side of the bed, made his way back, standing between the bed and the window. His body angled just slightly away from the window, enough for Blaine to see his face, but not directly.

The man's nimble fingers reached for the buttons of his black vest, popping them open slowly, before letting it slide of his arms and flutter to the floor. His hands moved to his forearms, unrolling the sleeves of his white button-up and gently smoothing out the wrinkles before taking his time removing it. He placed it gingerly on the chair beside him and bent down to retrieve his vest, his ass on display again.

He stuck both arms up in the air, reaching as high as he could to stretch and revealing a thin strip of pale creamy skin between his white undershirt and the waistband of his pants. He let his arms drop before crossing them and gripping the hem of his shirt, pulling it sharply over his head and tossing it aside.

Blaine's eyes drank him in hungrily, savoring every inch of skin now revealed to him. He slid forward in his chair slightly, his nimble calloused fingers sliding gently back and forth across his clothed thigh.

The man turned slightly, gazing out the window to take in the city below. Blaine's breath caught in his throat – he could have sworn the man's eyes flashed up to his window. The ghost of a smile lingered on the man's face as he turned away. Blaine growled. An actor never turns his back on his audience.

He wasn't angry for long. The man's hands slid to the sides of his jeans, pushing them down over his slender hips, over the curve of his ass before pulling them over his feet and leaving them in a denim puddle on the carpet.

Blaine licked his lips hungrily as the man stood, transfixed by the way the muscles in his legs moved as he crossed to the bed. Crawling on all fours, once again putting his behind center stage, he made his way to the center of the mattress. Quickly, he flipped over to lie on his back, his head resting on a pillow.

Finally… Blaine's eyes narrowed and a ghost of a smile lingered on his lips. Leaning back in his chair, his slowly began to rub his hands up and down his thighs, each passing bringing him closer and closer to his groin.

The man reclining on the bed had one arm behind his head, propping it up slightly, the other holding a remote control in his hand, lazily flicking through the television channels. That didn't last long; eventually he turned it off and dropped the remote on the bedside table. He closed his eyes, smiling slightly, not moving.

Blaine was growing frustrated. There was no doubt in his mind that the man saw him earlier, and this was now a game to him. Toying with him, seeing how tight he could wind Blaine before he snapped. Utter bullshit in Blaine's mind.

"If he doesn't fucking do something soon…" Blaine thought. He was still angry about work. He didn't need to add "sexual frustration" to his list of problems.

Movement across the street had Blaine's attention once more. The man's free hand was now tracing delicate swirling patterns across his stomach, running along the lean, sinewy muscles hidden under that milky skin. He brushed the top of his boxer briefs, running his finger along the elastic, but not going any further.

Blaine huffed in annoyance, his pants beginning to tighten.

The man's fingers continued their teasing exploration of his chest, lightly brushing his pale pink nipples. His eyes, though closed, still fluttered softly. He began a circuit, each time adding another finger until all but his thumb was involved. On his next pass, however, instead of just brushing across them, he took one of his nipples between his index finger and thumb, rolling it gently.

Blaine licked his dry lips, imagining his hands running over that body. How the man would shiver beneath his fingers, rough from playing many instruments over the years. The perfect contrast of skin on skin. Blaine's hand lightly traced the bulge in his dress pants, barely brushing his erection.

The man's tongue darted out quickly, wetting his lips before slipping back inside, his mouth remaining open in a silent moan. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, Blaine's eyes following the movement.

The other hand that had been resting beside him moved to his chest, sliding down his stomach and over the fabric of his boxer briefs. He let one finger slid over the obvious bulge before repeating the motion with his entire hand. His head arched back, burrowing into the pillow. Pressing his lips together, Blaine knew he was holding in moan, a sound he longed to hear – a sound he longed to be the cause of.

Blaine copied the man's actions, running his palm roughly over his pants. He groaned softly and his eyes threatened to close. They flickered a few times, but he was determined to keep them open, not wanting to miss a minute of the show. A show meant only for him.

Speaking of the show, Blaine growled softly as he watched a pale hand grip the man's covered length, sliding the fabric back and forth. His mouth popped open in a small gasp as he ran his thumb over the covered head of his cock. It appeared that the fabric contact wasn't enough for him because his hand slipped beneath the waistband. Fumbling for a moment, he slowly pulled himself from the cotton confines. Once free, he let go and watched as his hard cock flopped against his stomach. Hard and pink, he traced over the veins, around the head, and across the slit. He lifted his finger to his lips and sucked on it, swallowing the tiny bit of pre-cum on the tip.

Blaine groaned. He could only imagine those pink lips, currently wrapped around that finger, wrapped around his cock. Up on his knees, straddling the man's shoulders as he thrust in and out of his mouth, his tongue swirling around the head. Popping the remaining buttons on his shirt and the one on his pants, he tugged his zipper down roughly and reached into his black boxer briefs to release his own hard cock. His hand wrapped around the base, squeezing tightly.

The man reached down and wrapped his hand around his member, pumping slowly. He swirled his thumb around the head on each pass. Without stopping, he reached over to the bedside table drawer and pulled out a small bottle of lube.

"Oh, he wouldn't," Blaine groaned as he watched the lid of the bottle pop open and the clear substance slide over those long, dexterous fingers. Without hesitation, Blaine lifted his hips and shoved his pants and boxer briefs down his legs and kicked them off. This wasn't the first time Blaine had watched, but it was the first time things had progressed this far in this relationship – this voyeuristic relationship.

One long pale finger traced a path from the base of the man's cock, over his balls, and down between his legs which had fallen open on the bed. His hand stopped, telling Blaine he had found what he was looking for. The angle was horrible, but from the way the man's entire body tensed, Blaine knew he was easing his slick finger inside. Slowly drawing it out, he made small circle, teasing his puckered opening before slipping it back inside. The pace was almost torturously slow, but he soon added a second, then a third digit – each new finger making Blaine's breaths come in shorter bursts.

Blaine stroked himself in time with the man's fingers, and he could already feel his body beginning to bend, just waiting to snap. He could feel the bead of sweat trickling down his neck, the muscles in his arms and legs start to tighten. His teeth clamped down on his lip as his strokes became hurried and uneven.

Without stopping the hand in his ass, the other slowly dragged his nails up the length of his cock.

Once, twice…His other hand stilled, his fingers reaching.

Blaine moaned, sucking a finger into his mouth to get it slightly wet, before spreading his legs and reaching down. He ran it twice around his own entrance, teasing himself. His eyes closed briefly before snapping back open in time to watch the man's body snap backward.

His head burrowed into the pillow as his body arched gracefully. His mouth was open wide in scream that Blaine longed to hear and his chest was heaving, his entire body trembling with force of his orgasm.

His body sank back down to bed, and he eased his fingers out while he pumped his cock lazily before letting it drop to rest on his stomach. Lifting the hand that had been on his cock, he wiped it across his chest, gathering some of the cum. He looked it and smiled. Turning his head, he looked straight at Blaine and sucked his finger into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut.

That was it.

Finally snapping, Blaine's body went rigid as he released all over his hand and chest, a loud 'Fuck' echoing through the apartment. Stroking himself slowly, his body collapsed, slouching down in the chair. His head rested against the back as he tried to control his breathing and willed his body to stop quivering.

After several minutes, he picked himself up, gripping the back of the chair until he was sure his legs would support him, and walked into the kitchen to clean off. Running a damp rag down his body, he had just wiped away the last of the evidence of his voyeuristic excursion when he phone went off.

He looked at the caller ID and smiled.

"You're horrible. I hope you know that."

He was greeted by the sound of his boyfriend's laughter. "Well, that's rude. After all I've done for you?"

"Kurt, you know what I told you…"

"Yes, yes, I know," Kurt said. "But judging by how you finished, you weren't disappointed."

Blaine could practically hear him smiling over the phone. "Smart ass."

"Eh, you love it," Kurt laughed softly. "You know I've never been one to follow the rules. But if it displeased you, I suppose we could just stop the whole thing…"

"No!" Blaine shouted into the receiver. "Please don't stop…"

Kurt laughed again. "Don't worry. I wouldn't do that. I like it too much." He paused briefly, his voice softer when he spoke again. "It reminds me of how we met…"

"You will never let that go, will you?" Blaine sighed, a soft smile stretching across his face.

"Gorgeous gay lawyer who lives in the building across from me who gets off by watching me get off? Of course I was going to find you."

"And I'm glad you did. But, you're still not forgiven."

Kurt hummed softly, thinking. "Well, why don't you come over and make me earn your forgiveness?"

Blaine's cock twitched. He had to be at work extremely early the next morning considering he had a huge trial coming up, but the offer was so tempting…

"You can punish me like one of your criminals." Blaine chuckled, shaking his head. "Because I've been a bad boy…"

Blaine erupted into a fit of laughter. "Kurt, please stop."

"Thank god," Kurt laughed. "That was getting painful and I was running out of horrible innuendos. But what do you say? Besides, I haven't seen you all week. Looking through a window doesn't count."

Blaine walked back to the window, making sure to stay somewhat out of sight seeing as he was still naked, to find Kurt looking back at him, smiling. "Give me ten minutes."

"I'll be counting."

Blaine laughed once. "I don't doubt that. I'll see you soon."

He began to pull the phone away when Kurt's voice stopped him.

"Oh, and Blaine? If you're not here by then, let's just say I'll have more to apologize for."

Blaine looked up as Kurt walked away from the window, tossing his phone on the bed and letting the robe he was wearing slide to floor.

Forget ten minutes. He'd be there in under five.