Title: Parallelism

Rating: M

Summary: This is a companion piece to 'Come Undone' in which Blaine came hard with Kurt's fingers inside him for the first time. This is the inevitable counterpoint in which Blaine returns the favour. You don't need to have read 'Come Undone' to get this but you should anyway.

Warnings: Smut…11,000 words of it. Fingering and frottage.

Words: 10629

Spoilers: Season 2

A/N: So this was really difficult to write. Not because it was angsty, it's entirely fluffy, romantic—some would say at times schmoopy—smut. And hopefully hot and sexy and all that. It was just difficult because it was and some of you will have heard me whine about it for weeks on end but I read it last night over wine and I have decided that I actually quite like it. I like Kurt in this even more than I usually like him because he properly lets go. And Blaine's a whole new level of desperate and adorable. So, after the rewrites and the kicking and screaming and sillygleekt telling me to suck it up and cheerleading, often in quick succession, I'm throwing it out there to you guys. I would dearly, dearly love to hear what you think of this one because it was so much more everything than a lot of my other stuff but mostly I just hope you enjoy it as much I think I'm doing to enjoy rereading it in a few months.

I owe sillygleekt…I don't even know. But she can probably start making outrageous demands for things and I'll probably have to pay up. Awesomest beta ever!


par•al•lel•ism (noun)

1. The quality or condition of being parallel; a parallel relationship.

2. Likeness, correspondence, or similarity in aspect, course, or tendency.

3. (Philosophy) The doctrine that to every mental change there corresponds a concomitant but causally unconnected physical alteration.

They're sitting side by side in a booth drinking coffee when it begins. A busy day of brunch with the girls and a movie and then a long walk around the lake and now coffee and it's not so much that they've run out of things to say to each other, rather, they've just decided saying nothing for a while is nice. Except then Kurt's fingers curl around Blaine's hand in the space between them and they catch each other's gaze and with a lop-sided smile Kurt says in a half-hushed tone. "You know that thing we've been doing?"

Blaine looks slightly confused. Slightly hopeful, too, Kurt notes.

He clarifies as best he can in a coffee shop late in the afternoon. "Well, that thing I've been doing. To you."

"Oh." Blaine knows what he's talking about now. "Yes."

Kurt takes a deep breath. "I really want you to do it back to me."

Blaine's eyes widen and he just stares, holding Kurt's hand beneath the table stupidly tightly. And staring.

Kurt feels the need to add, "Now."

And that spurs Blaine to action, makes his neck twist so he can cast his eyes around the bustling shop, looking as though he's actually searching for somewhere to go. Here. Now. Then he looks dumbly at the table again, looks like he's mentally counting backwards from a hundred because, actually, he is, and Kurt laughs.

"Come on," Kurt says, not really surprised at Blaine's reaction but still pleased.

Out in the parking lot Kurt needs to make absolutely sure he's picked the right day to do this and asks, "Your house is still empty, right?" Blaine responds in the affirmative by way of a mumble and then they're in Kurt's car and driving and at some point Blaine manages to get his brain to function beyond the idea that this is really about to happen, to rein himself in and think about doing this the way it needs to be done.

Because Blaine has thought about this. Even before last week when Kurt had sprung the idea on him and blown his mind into a million little pieces, he'd thought about this and now it is consuming him. And when Kurt had pushed him back onto the bed a second and then a third time and pressed his hands down his body and slipped his fingers inside him, he had let himself get lost in it, again and then again and it made him want so, so badly, to do it back to Kurt.

So he's thought about it, fantasized and planned and wondered, but waited for Kurt to come to him. His newly discovered bold, sassy, adventurous Kurt who looks at him with awe and playfulness and is now driving them towards Blaine's very empty house, his very empty bedroom and hours of time to be stretched out between them.

Blaine breathes evenly, a wordless mantra of control and possibility repeated over and over again in his mind. When Kurt pulls his car into Blaine's driveway, turns it off and slides out, Blaine quickly decides that steady breathing and football stats aren't quite going to cut it and he resolutely moves onto Plan B with a bashful grin.

He knows how crazy his boyfriend makes him and isn't particularly surprised to find himself insanely turned on at this point. Of course he can feel a haze of lust and incoherence clouding in as Kurt presses against him as soon as they're inside and kisses him hard. But Blaine goes with it, succumbs to being a horny teenager, so easily wrecked by this boy. He nips at Kurt's bottom lip and lets his hands settle on Kurt's waist.

"Okay?" Kurt whispers, pulling back and giving him a curious look.

Blaine instantly rolls his hips up hard and Kurt gasps and then grins and gives him a breathless, scandalized, "Blaine!"

There's a moment lost as Blaine stares and then kisses, lips sliding down to press open and hot to Kurt's jaw. "You make me insanely fucking hot," Blaine mumbles and it makes Kurt laugh. It isn't his most eloquent comment and Kurt's now looking at him like he has no legitimate reason to be pressing against him all hard and desperate after a simple cross-town drive.

Then Kurt kisses him again before pulling away, stepping back and smiling. "Good. I'm going to take you up on that offer of a shower now."

Blaine's momentarily confused—what offer, of what shower?—and then he blushes and blushing is so not part of the plan. A shower. God, now he remembers that first time Kurt had sprung this on him. Nine days ago and so, so perfect.

He turns mischievous, following Kurt through the entrance hall and up the stairs towards his room. "A shower sounds good. It's warm out today and you walk so damn fast…"

Eyes narrowing, Kurt sounds careful. "It does sound good. Did you want to go first or shall I?"

Blaine grabs his hand, pulls him around and gives him his most charming of smiles even while crowding him back against the nearest wall again. "We've never taken a shower together," Blaine points out.

Brow furrowed, Kurt wonders because Blaine knows why he wants a shower and this is absolutely meant to be about him and Blaine seems to be trying to deviate. Determined, Kurt responds carefully, again, "We haven't. But I'd like a few minutes to myself before we do this." A deep, deep breath because he's blushing again and needs to say this just right. "And then we'll be moving to your bed because I like your bed and when I imagine what we're about to do it's always in your bed."

Yeah, Kurt can do seductive now and by all accounts Blaine should well and truly be done for.

Blaine grins. "Go, have your shower." And he lets Kurt duck down under his arm and swagger off, confident at least in the telltale darkening of Blaine's eyes.

Kurt goes to the linen cupboard, already knowing where it is and which towels he can help himself to. Then he throws another calculating look at Blaine and moves to walk through to the bathroom. Just as he's closing the door, Blaine calls after him, "Call me when you're ready for me to join you."

Kurt shakes his head. He'd been so sure that Blaine would do this perfectly, slowly, dare he even say it, romantically. And if Blaine has some insane idea about trying to do this standing up and under water he has another think coming. And it doesn't feel like something Blaine would do—ever cautious, sweet, tentative Blaine.

Kurt doesn't call Blaine in. He just leaves the water running while he towels off and debates getting dressed again but decides that's stupid, decides he's just being stupid, and that Blaine is just trying to get him flustered. Blaine's let slip more than once that he likes him flustered. He turns the water off, then.

So he wraps the towel around his waist, smiles reassuringly at his reflection in the still fog-fringed mirrors and then opens the door.

Blaine's groan echoes past him as his eyes go wide and he remembers for the first time since it happened how he'd been bold enough to lay back and stroke himself to hardness last week as he'd waited for Blaine.

That's not what Blaine's doing. Blaine's not sprawled and languid, he's sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, pants undone and slipped down to mid-thigh, his hand pumping his cock fast and hard and if Kurt wasn't already half-hard from the anticipation of it all, this visual is certainly doing it for him.

Even if it doesn't make any sense.

Another broken groan and Blaine waits for Kurt's gaze to move up from his hand to his eyes and then does his best to give him a disapproving look even as he sucks on his lip and swallows another noise. He looks obviously, blatantly unhinged.

"I told you to call me."

Kurt gapes and doesn't have a clue what to say to that.

Blaine stops stroking, stands and pushes his pants the rest of the way off. He's flushed and already sweating and Kurt was sure he was only away for a few minutes and this is what Blaine chose to do? He'd think on it more but Blaine is stalking towards him, making him stumble backwards. Then there are hands on the towel, tugging it off and then pushing him back through the still open doorway and kissing him even as Blaine's hand snakes back down and begins to stroke again.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks, wanting to know what the fuck is going on.

But Blaine's turning the water back on and dragging Kurt under while it's still lukewarm and he won't stop kissing his mouth and his jaw and down his neck.

And Blaine is still stroking, strong and determined and— "Kurt, I wanna come," he mumbles against his mouth.

Kurt's actually not convinced he wants to argue. It's been a game for so long to last longer, to hold off and think of presidents and baseball and get better than those first times when it was over too fast. So he wonders what it's like when Blaine's aiming for fast and ferocious. But he should argue, point out everything that's gone wrong here.

Blaine pushes him back against the shower wall and Kurt arches off the cold, into Blaine and presses hard, letting Blaine rut against his thigh, his stomach—so fucking hard and making ridiculously desperate sounds in his ear.

Blaine whines, "Kurt—" and bites across his collarbone, down to lick over a nipple and Kurt arches but watches, enthralled at the way Blaine's trying to come, trying to push himself forward instead of back.

Dropping to his knees, Blaine wraps his hand around Kurt's hip and holds him there, against the wall, pushes him back and then leans forward, kisses across the skin of his belly and it's so strangely intimate because Blaine is breathing him in and grunting with the exertion of still stroking—Kurt can see—and then there's the press of teeth and lips against the skin and the vibration of a moan, reckless and pleased and Blaine comes across Kurt's knees and the tiles with a shout.

Kurt still isn't entirely sure what's going on but Blaine's head is resting against his stomach and his breath is hot but evening out and his hands have slipped down to hold at the back of Kurt's calves. Then Blaine chuckles and it feels marvelous and he looks up and his eyes are sparkling and playful and with a deep breath he's rocking back and up on to his feet, only a little unsteady.

They slide back under the stream of water and Blaine runs his hands everywhere, ignoring Kurt's questioning look and half-mumbled questions in exchange for kissing him again and again and then turning the water off and tugging Kurt out, walking wet footprints across the carpet and kissing him one last time before pushing him back onto the bed.

"Now…" Blaine says, with deliberate consideration, apparently appraising the situation as he towels his hair somewhat drier.

Kurt just arches an eyebrow at him and rises up on his elbows. "We're going to get your bed wet," he points out.

Blaine throws the towel to Kurt and watches him as he sits up and ruffles it through his hair, leaving it messy and falling haphazard across his eyes.

Kurt can't quite believe the afternoon so far but is too intrigued to argue, especially now that Blaine is staring at him so openly. He's not disguising his gaze or diverting it, he's letting it run rampant and over Kurt's body and focusing in so obviously on where his interests lie. So Kurt drapes the towel over the pillow and then lies back with his ankles crossed and—oh, he feels like a tease—his hands resting over his stomach. He thinks he should feel stupid lying like this, waiting, or at least stupid about still being entirely confused. But he knows what is coming and there's nothing but liquid heat and anticipation settling in his stomach.

Blaine climbs over him, hands and knees either side before sitting across his stomach with a stupid grin on his face. "Okay?" he asks, perched there.

"I don't quite understand why you felt the need to come on my knees," Kurt answers, mostly sounding playful but also shockingly bold, "But yes, okay."

Now Blaine blushes and his eyes dip but he feels the need to explain. "Please don't judge me for that." Kurt giggles and rocks under Blaine, strangely intrigued by the contrast of his hard dick pressing against Blaine's ass and Blaine's mostly soft one resting against his stomach. Blaine seems to pick up on Kurt's thoughts and hurries on. "I just wanted to be able to concentrate on this." Kurt watches as Blaine finds one of his hands and draws it up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles and then blushes harder. "And you just make me so hot without meaning to, I want to make this as good for you as you made it for me and I'm hoping I'll be able to concentrate a little better having already—"

Kurt's mouth forms a silent "Oh" and then he's grinning but Blaine doesn't see it as he kisses at the curve of Kurt's thumb and murmurs, "You think I'm crazy?" sounding just as amused as Kurt looks.

"Yeah, and I kind of love it," and Kurt does and is a bit in awe at the strange logic Blaine's enacted.

A silence falls and Blaine just rests there, kissing the backs of Kurt's hands and staring down, and he's already getting hard again though the way he shifts makes Kurt think perhaps it's entirely because he can't help himself. Eventually Kurt sees him take a deep breath and then he's slipping to the bed and coaxing Kurt onto his side to look at him.

Kurt's breath catches when Blaine says, "Trust me," because he hears it as a fact previously unspoken and this feels like unnecessary formalization. He nods quickly when he realizes that Blaine was asking him a question.

Then Blaine leans forward and kisses him, slow and soft and with promise and Kurt feels giddy because all of a sudden, yes, this is perfect and just what he expected and wants. Blaine's hand traces down his arm to his hip as his tongue traces Kurt's lips, he draws a little swirl with his thumb and then runs his open hand down Kurt's thigh to his knee.

Kurt lets Blaine lift his leg, bending it and Kurt's eyes slide open of their own volition when Blaine wriggles closer into the kiss and drags Kurt's leg to rest over his hip.

Pulling back, Kurt feels his heart flutter and finds Blaine's eyes dark and his brow furrowed. He doesn't think he's ever seen Blaine's brain ticking over like this while they've been naked and this close. But there's a warm thigh under his calf and he can feel the heat of Blaine's chest inches from his. And now Blaine's hand is resting dormant and hot and so, so important at the dip of Kurt's waist.

The physical parameters of it all are stunning. It's intimate and face-to-face and god Kurt hopes Blaine knows what he's doing because he is aching for this to feel as good as he imagines it should.

Blaine's voice is low and breathless and brushes over Kurt's lips when he says, "Can I ask if you've touched yourself like this yet?"

Kurt smiles and feels a shiver of anxiousness move up his spine because this is the risk he's chosen. He'd been so tempted ever since he saw what his fingers inside Blaine could do, since he'd watched his boyfriend fall apart completely and then listened to him talk hushed, reverent, rambling incoherence in the days that followed. Blaine had begged him to do it again and Kurt had willingly, eagerly complied and let it all unfold again.

So Kurt was tempted to try for himself, to see how he liked it, to see how it felt but he was also tempted to leave it be, to wait a little and let Blaine show him. So now he shakes his head and watches Blaine's eyes widen and it's so blatantly with hunger and awe that Kurt just smiles more broadly.

Sounding just a little breathless now, Blaine says, "Okay, then we're going to take this slow and you're going to tell me how it feels."

Kurt nods and kisses him again, harder, swallowing the groan Blaine makes and groaning back when he feels Blaine's body rock towards him. This time it's Blaine who pulls away, letting Kurt's head fall to the pillow while he stays raised on his elbow so he can grin down. "But seriously, talk to me, okay?" he says softly, his voice almost painfully earnest.

Kurt resists the urge to roll his eyes a little, to smirk and look undecided because he suspects this isn't just Blaine liking to hear him whisper slightly dirty things, this is Blaine wanting to do things right. He nods and Blaine glares playfully and Kurt very carefully, very clearly, says, "Yes, Blaine," and lets the rest hang, an unspoken, "Now get on with it".

Blaine accepts that and leans into Kurt's chest with his mouth open and hovering as his forehead rests against Kurt's shoulder. Looking down, Kurt can see between them, can see a few inches of space into which their chests rise and fall and their cocks rest close, not quite touching, gravity drawing them down. Blaine's hard again, properly hard, and Kurt kind of wants to giggle at that so he does, letting the soft laughter play at Blaine's hair.

"What?" Blaine asks, voice a growl, still playful but something more there, too.

"I thought you jerked off so that wouldn't happen," Kurt says, teasingly.

Blaine's eyes turn back up to him to give him a look from under his lashes. "You think it's funny that you've already got me hard again?"

And Kurt kind of loves this banter—this sexy, hot, only-ever-in-bed silliness that gets more and more bold every single time. He wonders if in a decade (did he really just think about a decade from now?) they'll be saying really, really filthy things to each other in between professions of love and giggles and groans.

"I think you're a bit desperate for it," he counters and then gasps as Blaine's hand moves from dormant at Kurt's waist down to drag across his lower abdomen, through the hair at the base of his cock and then stops to caress at his balls. Kurt gasps a second time and watches Blaine's eyes light up in victory.

The touch is just a little rough, Blaine's fingers just slightly calloused, but they're hot and there and Kurt's already holding his breath and staring down at the space between them. He sees Blaine staring too, can hear his breath is coming shorter, shallower.

"I am," Blaine mumbles. "Desperate for it, I mean."

In response, conscious or not, Kurt angles his leg higher, spreading himself just a little more but still keeping his calf pressed to Blaine's leg. His hands come up to rest over Blaine's abdomen, careful not to distract but needing the feel of hot and tense under his fingertips even if it obstructs the view.

Blaine slows his caress over Kurt's balls and the base of his dick and then stops altogether. He takes a breath and says, "Always," as he tracks his fingers back to press against the flesh behind Kurt's balls. Kurt tenses at that and a second later, Kurt feels Blaine tense as well.

Blaine hums softly in question, trying to draw an answer out.

"Good," Kurt mumbles, and it is good, a different kind of pleasure radiating out. "Just there is good,"

And then Blaine slips his hand back further, middle finger centered with gentle pressure, the tip pressed and tracing, the rest spreading Kurt open and this is what Blaine does when he touches himself—identical to the very first touch he usually uses to relax into everything—but touching someone else, he's realizing, is completely different.

"It's all good," Kurt whispers and it makes Blaine smile, because Kurt sounds happy,.

And then, just once, just to see how Kurt reacts, Blaine touches his fingers against Kurt's entrance, just fleetingly, and then presses his fingers back in a line as far as he can to rest at the base of Kurt's spine. And Kurt shivers at the fleeting touch, his fingers digging into Blaine's stomach, just slightly, just a little, so slightly that Blaine thinks maybe he imagined it but then Kurt also mumbles "There," and Blaine thinks perhaps they both shivered. Anticipation.

Blaine wants to build this up as much as he can, to take it slow and, again, he searches for inspiration in the way he teases himself when he's alone, the way he makes himself wait and want. So he traces the same line forward, watches and feels the shiver and the tensing and the ever-present press of Kurt's hands to his stomach, slipping lower.

His hand moves back with a frustrating lack of pressure or escalation but Kurt can tell by Blaine's breathing that he wants to do more. But still it's just his fingers, back and forth, tracing the same line, using the same fleeting pressure until Kurt's wondering if Blaine is waiting for him to explicitly ask for more. Because he wants more. Without meaning to, Kurt huffs out a soft, impatient breath.

Blaine's eyes snap out of his thoughts and back up to Kurt's face, which holds a mostly questioning expression. "Sometimes, when I… when I'm… by myself. I… this is how I start," he says softly, stammering a bit with his words and shifting his gaze back down as he reveals this thing he never imagined telling anyone.

Kurt's eyes widen and he utters a breathy, "Oh," as he exhales and his previous impatience suddenly turns into a current of arousal that jolts through him as he suddenly finds himself picturing Blaine doing this—to himself—in this bed. Then Kurt makes a needy little noise, one he's become an expert at making, one that demands more, one that keens a little high and always makes Blaine's hands grip down on whatever they're holding and his hips snap forward.

But Blaine just chuckles then and Kurt realizes that perhaps he was a little louder than he'd planned to be and Blaine seems to be far more in control than Kurt's used to. Then Blaine's fingers shift and the line is the same but it's slightly more contact, just a forefinger and not just tracing, but mapping now, pressing into flesh, smooth skin and muscle and tautness, back and forth, gentle, testing pressure to Kurt's entrance.

Kurt thinks he should probably feel a pang of need, a jolt of pure want for Blaine's fingers to be inside him now. He thinks maybe he does. Certainly he wants. But he also wants this. Suddenly he realizes Blaine's stopped watching the space between them and is staring at his face; he's being so, so careful with this and Kurt is at once swooning and frustrated by it.

"What?" Blaine asks, brow furrowing, lips quirking up.

"What, what?" Kurt asks back, trying not to sound breathless as Blaine's fingers keep tracing.

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Keep telling me what you're thinking?"

A sigh escapes Kurt when Blaine's hand moves away, the backs of his knuckles dragging up the underside of Kurt's cock and making him rock forward and groan.

Blaine moves his hand up between them, laying it against the sheets as he waits, determined to make Kurt understand that he wants to hear him and not just in an obscene, dirty way—though that's nice, too. He arches an eyebrow until Kurt's smile breaks into light laughter.

"You really like to hear me talk, don't you?"

"Yep," Blaine says back. "And if you tell me what you want, what you like, I think I can make this really good."

Kurt thinks he hears Blaine begging beneath the playful tone, feels something tighten in his stomach because Blaine's just wanting to make this good, he's begging Kurt to let him make it good—for him—and that's hot.

"I want you to touch me," Kurt whispers a little too quickly, making Blaine grin again. "I want you to touch me… there… now."

He adds, "Please?" as an afterthought but thinks it sounds pretty stupid.

Nonetheless, Blaine nods his head thoughtfully; he can't quite decide whether to thank Kurt or tease him, so he ends up just kissing him hard for a second and then rolling onto his back. His skin feels strangely cold with the sheen of sweat across his chest exposed to the air, the heat of Kurt's body suddenly missing and only one of Kurt's hands now splayed across his stomach as he stretches his arm under the pillow beside his head.

When he rolls back to face Kurt, inching closer with squirming hips, Kurt's hands are immediately back on him, long fingers tracing patterns up his stomach and chest and cradling his jaw, drawing him in for another kiss, this one sloppy and slow with tongues moving languid but hot, and it feels like Kurt missed him. Kurt's hands smooth back down, stilling again across Blaine's abdomen as Kurt breathes deep and tries to center himself.

Kurt's mildly impressed with how easily Blaine has found the bottle of lube without looking. Then he remembers the way Blaine had been jerking himself off not that long ago and his breath catches as the idea hits him—Blaine getting off with the same lube he's about to use to slide his fingers home.

The furrow between Blaine's brows is back and his gaze is suddenly intense, as though he's looking for any hint that he's doing this wrong, that he should slow down or stop or change tact. So Kurt just lets his eyes stay bright and intrigued, lets his lips stay slightly parted, his breath not quite regular and he watches, mostly turned on but a little amused at the obvious practice with which Blaine spreads the lube across his fingers, working the liquid with his thumb, simultaneously warming it up but avoiding getting his other hand slick. Then Blaine pauses, visibly considering, and squeezes a little more into his hand.

Blaine reaches down between them and he can no long cheekily touch, can't tickle or caress because his fingers are slick. But his forearm makes contact with Kurt's where they cross between them, the coarser hair of Blaine's tickling at Kurt's skin as Blaine bites his lip and moves his hand further.

Neither boy can see it for the blocking view of hips and arms and cocks and Kurt shouldn't be upset about that but kind of is and wonders how they could do it next time so that he might watch. He spreads his legs further and when he hears Blaine's breath catch he wonders if Blaine's watching and thinking the same.

Mostly Kurt's willing this to happen now.

And then Blaine touches, fingers and palm making contact all at once because he doesn't know what he's doing with another boy's body and it's all different even though it's kind of exactly the same. But it's warm and…messy and…so wet.

And Kurt thinks that it's strange and new and those are Blaine's fingertips, two of them, spreading the liquid around Kurt's hole, not pushing in but caressing around, such a paradoxically gentle touch and Kurt can feel the wetness sliding across his skin—gravity, push, pull, the lack of friction—he can feel it dripping away from Blaine's fingers, dribbling down to his thigh.

"Please tell me," Blaine says, breath ghosting hot over Kurt's face.

And Kurt realizes he's been biting his lip, sucking it into his mouth as he tries to order everything in his head and think through it and he's struggling because really, it just feels right. And it's not that Kurt doesn't want to talk and explain and it's mostly not that he feels embarrassed. It's just that he's concentrating so hard on experiencing that he's forgotten. He takes a breath, scratches his nails over the dip of Blaine's belly button, and then answers, unable to resist the joke and watching Blaine's lips quirk. "It feels wet, Blaine."

Blaine should laugh but instead he presses his finger against Kurt just a little harder, not inside him, but hinting at it and, oh, so he's trying to get Kurt to talk like that.

Kurt starts to ramble when he makes the basic connection between him talking and Blaine rewarding him with more contact—ties all the words together in his brain in a mess that makes Blaine arch under his hands and forget for a second what he's doing. "It feels right, Blaine. It feels like nowhere near enough and you know that. It's weird and new and kind of a bit gross because it feels really, really slippery and wet. But oh my god, Blaine, if you don't keep going—"

Blaine cuts him off with his mouth, swallowing whatever threat Kurt had been about to make because right was exactly what it was meant to be and exactly what Blaine wanted and felt and he shivers with it, forcibly pulling himself back from Kurt because he was losing himself in the press of their bodies.

Reaching back up between them, concentrating on not tangling their arms because Kurt is refusing to stop running his hands up and down now, anchoring and touching and distracting, Blaine again tries to put some space between them, struggles to find the lube and squirt more onto his fingers and Kurt's actually getting a little bit frustrated and voicing it.

"Blaine," he mewls, "come on, enough." He sounds impatient and on the right side of desperate and Blaine's fingers start to work the same tight, wet circle into his skin still not threatening anything more and Kurt bends and presses down, moaning low in his throat.

The motion stops and Kurt arches again, shifting his legs wider where they've angled just a little closed. He finds Blaine's gaze and digs his fingertips into Blaine's stomach, scratching and saying, "Now. Come on," as he rubs the back of his calf against Blaine's thigh, then up further to press it to Blaine's ass, compelling him forward as Kurt dares to press his ass down against Blaine's unmoving fingers again.

He doesn't know what he's doing but by god does he want it and, damn it, Blaine said he'd show him.

And now Blaine chuckles at him, voice catching, just a little raspy and yeah, he's definitely getting off on this as well. He mumbles something indecipherable and Kurt responds almost automatically, telling him, "It still feels good, Blaine, so good. But you're taking forever and I really want your fingers inside me."

Blaine's breath catches and he withdraws his hand to lay it against Kurt's thigh making Kurt mewl and scratch at him again. Inadvertently all the movement leaves the lube smeared into a mess across his skin and Kurt's stunned to find himself thinking it feels dirty in a good kind of way.

"Stay still," Blaine requests.

Kurt steadies, stops arching and mentally prepares. Come on Blaine, show me.

"Come on Blaine, show me."

There's pressure, just gentle but there, the wet bluntness of the tip of Blaine's finger pressed there and Kurt waits and fights the need to grip his fingers into Blaine's flesh in return. But Blaine feels him tensing and kisses him, leaning forward and finding his mouth and sliding his lips over Kurt's bottom one, sucking and then breathing, "Relax," as an instruction or an entreaty.

Kurt takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly and feeling some of the tension in his body release at that breathless, almost begging tone Blaine's using. "You know what that does…" he mutters with a teasing, almost accusing edge to his voice as he mentally reels at the power Blaine has over him, just with his voice.

Blaine's mouth quirks slightly, but as he sees and feels Kurt's body start to relax, he leans back in and whispers, "Yeah, there you go. Just like that." And even though Blaine's breath is hot against Kurt's ear, he shivers slightly, but then feels himself sink deeper into the mattress with his next exhale.

Blaine slides his mouth along Kurt's cheek and catches his lips in his own, sliding his tongue inside Kurt's waiting mouth as he presses his forefinger close. "God, I love you—" he breathes into Kurt's mouth as he presses further until his finger slides inside.

Kurt stills against Blaine with a sudden inhale, the sensation of Blaine inside him surprising him even though he knew it was coming. Blaine pulls his head back slightly, leaning his forehead against Kurt's. "You ok?" he whispers. He knows that feeling, and he also knows what comes next and then later, but Kurt doesn't—not yet. There's a pause and then Kurt whimpers softly, his head nodding before he leans in to press his mouth back to Blaine's with a whispered, "Yes."

The pleased hum Blaine makes against Kurt's mouth echoes through them and Kurt says "Yes," again and then Blaine's just trying to concentrate through the press of boy all up against him, of lips and tongues and hands and legs and fuck, he has his finger inside Kurt—inside Kurt—and Kurt's moaning into his mouth because of it and it feels hot and tight and he's ridiculously sweaty for so little movement but he thinks maybe that has to do with holding himself back. When Kurt's body inches lower, bearing down on his unmoving hand slightly, Blaine knows he got it right, knows that this will be as amazing for Kurt as it should be.

Blaine moves his finger just slightly, pulling out to the first knuckle and then back in to the second and keeping time with his tongue, pressing into Kurt's mouth and caressing over his lips and trying to feel out his reaction. But Kurt holds still, happy to be kissed while he gets used to the sensation and rocks his hips just slightly down.

"Kurt—" Blaine begs against his lips, pulling back to look at his face and then down at the mess of haphazard limbs and skin and the sheen of sweat.

"It's good," Kurt says and would feel dumb for using the same phrase again but doesn't because he's fixed on Blaine's finger inside him. "I like it."

Blaine's mouth skims his jaw and Kurt moans and angles his neck into the touch so that Blaine can trail wet kisses down as he slides his finger deeper.

"I like—" Kurt begins again and Blaine revels in biting down on the tendons along the length of his neck and making Kurt's voice break. "Just move."

A frisson of something rushes through him as Blaine does what he's told and starts stroking in and out. He shivers and Blaine watches it play across his skin and draws back to watch his eyes flutter closed and then open and stare back with a grin.

"A little faster?" Kurt whispers, daring and bold and undoing quite a bit of Blaine's resolve. It's obvious in the way Blaine's now biting his lip and closing his eyes as he crooks his finger just slightly and speeds up the stroke.

"Shit, Blaine," Kurt whines into the pillow as Blaine's mouth starts to work against Kurt's neck again, licking and biting and whispering something neither of them can really hear. "It's just…so…full," he speaks between gasps timed to the thrust of Blaine's finger.

Stroking in, Blaine's voice catches and he says in a rasp, "This is what it's about, Kurt," and smiles when Kurt nods immediately because he's right, and this is where Blaine needs to be forever.

"Just…don't stop," Kurt whimpers, kissing against Blaine's temple and letting the hands he's still holding over his boyfriend's abdomen stretch up to trace meaningless lines over his chest.

"Are you begging?" Blaine says, sounding a little smug and in control but really just smirking because he loves that Kurt's already so into this.

But Kurt laughs throaty and low and lets his fingers flick at Blaine's nipples, making him arch. "Not yet."

Blaine bucks into that touch, his hips managing to get his cock close enough to rub over Kurt's and they both moan at the contact. But he keeps working his finger inside, changing the angle and stretching Kurt out until the slide is easy and free and Kurt's shuddering at the touch and whimpering intermittently.

"Do you want to try another?" Blaine whispers and Kurt kisses at his skin again because the way he asks is all wonderment and adoration and utterly unassuming and perfect—Kurt falls more in love over the way he asks and Kurt had been sure he couldn't fall any further.

He wriggles his hips, and Blaine groans a little to feel his finger drag just slightly more roughly inside Kurt, watches his boyfriend's eyes light up and his teeth bite down on his lip as he moans as well.

"Yes," Kurt says and Blaine grins and slides his mouth lower to kiss across collarbones and Kurt's chest. As an afterthought, Kurt adds, "I want to try everything with you."

And Blaine laughs at how corny that sounds—it's such a line he'd use—and Kurt laughs back, his voice catching slightly each time Blaine moves his finger all the way inside.

Kurt's stunning like this, Blaine thinks: he's smiling and breathing quickly and smelling like sex and sweat and boy. Blaine angles his head and laps across a nipple because he can and he feels Kurt arch against him and keen a little and he wonders if Kurt's trying not to let on just how turned on he really is.

Blowing cool air over where's he's licked he straightens and slows his stokes, looking Kurt in the eye when he asks, entirely rhetorically but begging the answer, "What do you think we'll be trying a year from now?"

Kurt just manages to stop himself from countering with "What about ten years from now?" Instead he smiles mischievously and they both laugh and their breath catches simultaneously, each realizing that they're thinking about sex in in the future. Together.

Kurt whines high and needy when Blaine's finger slips from him. He aches at the loss and Blaine can hear it in the pitch of his voice. He leans close, chests pressing, cocks caught and Kurt's hands still there somewhere and he sooths, "I know, I know."

And then there are two fingers pressed to Kurt's entrance and he's staring at Blaine, eyes wide, pupils blown and trying to smile reassuringly because Blaine seems so sure. But Kurt's chewing the inside of his cheek because there's this strange momentary discomfort, a second's stretching too much and Kurt wonders if something's about to wrong and then Blaine's fingers have slipped deep in him and held there.

Blaine kisses him then, hard and desperate and it's all so hot and Kurt is moaning wantonly into it and god that must be giving Blaine such a big head but Kurt struggles to care because suddenly Blaine's fingers are flexing and moving in careful, measured strokes and it feels amazing.

When he buries his fingers all the way, Blaine pulls back to stare between them again and then up at Kurt. He strokes again and all Kurt manages to say is, "Fuck, Blaine," and that makes Blaine laugh breathlessly and lean in for another open-mouthed mess of a kiss. "Fuck Blaine," Kurt tries again, "That feels—" he can't find the word and Blaine keeps kissing him, keeps stroking.

"Tell me, please." Blaine wasn't meant to be the one left begging.

Blaine's hips have started rocking, the head of his cock catching at Kurt's hands and stomach and it's not going to be any real kind of friction at all but it's enrapturing to watch while he feels Blaine working faster, deeper, stretching him. "It's feels amazing and full and so fucking right, Blaine. God, I can see why you do this all the time. I'm going to do this all the time." And that's kind of a dirty admission but Blaine just groans and starts sucking at an earlobe.

"I'm going to do it to you. All the time," Blaine growls. "You don't get how badly I'm getting off on this."

Kurt bucks up and then back hard and whines because he so desperately wants more but the promise of this happening over and over makes his insides twist deliciously. "I really, really do, Blaine," he grinds out and Blaine's not sure he's ever heard him quite that wrecked and is so in love with the idea that it's not just that they get off with each other but that whatever they've got, they get off on getting each other off. It's a spiral of want and need and they are going to be—already are—so fucking good together.

Still working two fingers, in and out and finding it more fluid with each press, Kurt's whimpers more vocal every time, Blaine pulls his mouth away from where he's sucked a mark to Kurt's neck to look between them.

The leg that had been wide and spread over his thigh has dipped back down to bracket his hip, the smooth-rough touch of flesh and hair and so much heat so appealing but it's all so close, it's so hard to maneuver and Blaine wants to move. But he also wants so badly to touch and can't tear himself away and surely this will work.

Blaine kisses Kurt with hunger and warning and Kurt doesn't hear any of it because he's gotten too good at rocking his hips forward to catch the head of his cock against Blaine's and then back against fingers sheathed deep inside him. Another kiss to Kurt's neck and another to his chest and then Blaine is putting inches between them and making Kurt mewl and open his eyes and now Blaine just wants to watch.

Kurt knows Blaine's about to do something, can see it in the way he's staring and holding his breath and looking wretchedly ruined except ignoring it. But Kurt's mind is lost in sensation and he can only feel the change in the touch of Blaine's fingers, the pause in caress and new tiny movements inside him and it makes his nails dig into his boyfriend's chest where they rest. And then more marvelous presses inside him, all of it making him rock and whimper; Blaine's fingers searching, pressing and he's still watching him intently, with hope and then—Oh.


Oh god.

"Prostate," Blaine whispers so, so playfully, paralleling the first time Kurt did this to him as he looks up and watches Kurt's eyes go wide as an elongated vowel of a sound escapes his lips and he shudders all over without expecting to. Blaine just presses his fingers there again and again and then stops.

"Jesus, Blaine," Kurt manages. "That's…"

"Hmmm?" Blaine asks, already sounding arrogant as he licks at Kurt's neck.

"God do it again." And yeah, he sounds useless and desperate and needy.

Blaine laughs at him but doesn't move because he feels powerful and wonderful and can see Kurt holding himself taut, trying to angle himself onto Blaine's fingers to get the same friction. "What's the magic word?" Blaine teases.

And Kurt can't believe Blaine thinks this is the time for silly games but, actually, he kind of can and just rolls his eyes and angles hard, forcing his hips down and getting Blaine's fingers deeper but, fuck, not at all right. Blaine can tell Kurt's thinking about resisting and brushes just ever so lightly across that spot again, grinning wide when Kurt's voice slips high and desperate once more.

"Fuck, Blaine, please."

And Blaine presses his fingers smoothly across that spot inside him and watches Kurt arch and grab at his chest and whine and oh he knows how good that feels.

"Yeah?" Blaine asks, though they both know he knows the answer.

Kurt just manages to utter his boyfriend's name in an awestruck kind of way and that makes Blaine dip his gaze and smile.

Kurt tries to prepare for the onslaught, tries to think his way to understanding and holding himself together except he doesn't even know why he'd want to and too quickly his thoughts spiral away through remembrances of Blaine falling apart at the tips of his fingers and he's closing his eyes because he had been so sure he knew what good and right felt like. He was so happy just with Blaine's fingers inside him, to be doing what he was doing that this, now, this is too much. This is going to feel like too much and tear him apart and Blaine's going to watch it happen.

Thinking that just makes him arch some more, Blaine's name escaping his lips again and everything feels alive and electric and then Blaine's just whispering, "I know, Kurt, I get it."

When Blaine presses his fingertips there again, rubbing silly little circles inside him, he can only stare as Kurt's eyes slide shut and his face contorts, the sweat at his hairline running a rivulet down his forehead and cheek and Blaine swoops to lick it away, making Kurt angle his skin against Blaine's tongue desperately. Kurt's lost to it already, breathing is gasps and rocking his hips and his face awash with concentration.

He doesn't want to let go of the contact, of the sensation and the build and Blaine knows what that's like. Presses a littler harder and rocks his hips forward to make contact with Kurt's and feels him rub up against him on instinct, mewling and gasping Blaine's name.

Relenting a little, Blaine's aware of how close to coming he is and that's not right because he had a fucking plan and he hates himself for it but by god he's sticking to it. He bites back his own moan as Kurt fights to focus his gaze and stare, intrigued at the agony across his boyfriend's face—Blaine could come right now and it would be the best orgasm ever but he won't let himself. Instead he presses again and again in strokes and circles and rocks, sliding two fingers back and forth, slow and deliberate and over and over and not stopping until Kurt's shaking with it—and he gets to watch—this useless mess of a boy crying out, high-pitched like he never does. And now Blaine's orgasm seems so utterly insignificant in the scheme of things and this time when he groans it's blissful and enraptured and Kurt barely hears it.

And then Blaine says into his ear, licking at the lobe and letting his breath run hot and rampant, "Talk to me."

"Blaine," Kurt keens, long and strung out. "I can't, I just—" he breaks off and rocks forward and sinks his teeth into Blaine's shoulder hard. "Fuck I'm in love with this," he says against the skin, licking and biting and uselessly messy. "I'm in love with all of this and you, and I…I can't even… it just feels…" he trails off and Blaine's touch is lighter now, bringing him back from the brink and Kurt lets out a sob that twists Blaine's stomach into knots in the best of ways.

"Perfect?" Blaine offers.

Kurt nods and Blaine presses down again except now—and damn it Blaine knew this was going to happen—Kurt bucks too hard and the sound he makes as Blaine's fingers slip from him makes Blaine resolute. Stick to the fucking plan. Kurt's still keening, whimpering and it's making Blaine rut against him, it's making Blaine lose his mind and bite harder at Kurt's shoulder and grab at him with both hands, too tight, at his hips, down his thighs, leaving a wet, obscene trail down one leg and it's only Kurt's begging, pleading voice that makes Blaine stop.

"Blaine, Blaine, please, oh god, Blaine, please."

And on and on and Blaine's mind turns, struggles to get away from the idea of just pressing and groping them both to climax because he promised himself and then Kurt, silent and stubborn that this would be everything. Every single thing that it could be. And that means Kurt coming hard and ridiculous with Blaine's fingers still inside him.

"Blaine, please…back inside me. Fuck…I need you back inside me." Begging. Pleading. Desperate.

Blaine pulls away to the side and rolls onto his back with a growl because his body aches with the idea of what they're doing and it's a stupid fucked up paradox that getting Kurt this desperate is making him even worse and that's stopping him from doing what he wants to do.

His hands—god still slick—find Kurt beside him, find him still shivering and reaching out for contact even as Blaine pushes Kurt onto his back and then clamors to get over him, to press to him and kiss him hungry and reassuring. "Kurt," he whispers and his voice is blown to pieces, high and begging. "I can't…Just let me…" He takes a rattling breath and closes his eyes while Kurt licks at his neck and mewls again and spreads his legs as wide as they'll go, curving his back to get a new kind of contact because he's not trying to rub their cocks together like they usually do, doesn't want their bodies pressed taut and long. He curves his back and tries—all futility—to get something against his ass, to get some kind of contact. Just there.

"Blaine," he breathes and god is he begging and Blaine doesn't even know why anymore. "I need you," he all but sobs.

Pushing away and down, sliding his mouth down Kurt's neck and chest because he can't deal with this much contact, especially not Kurt's mouth against his, not when Kurt's falling apart below him and all in want, in begging and if Kurt knew what begging did to Blaine... Fuck, Kurt begging takes away all the power and as Blaine lays his cheek flat against Kurt's stomach, kissing wet against the sweat and then just leaning into the fast rise and fall and the tremors he feels, Blaine tries to sooth.

"Shhh," he breathes, eyes turning up and staring at something wild and primal and writhing beneath him. "I can't think when you're like this," he reveals. "I can't do anything except come when you're like this and I knew that when we started but, fuck, Kurt, if I'd known…" he trails off as he raises on his knees, nudging Kurt's legs even further open and glancing down just for a second because that, too, is too much.

"Known what?" Kurt breathes, desperate to know and for Blaine's fingers and his mouth and for this to go forever but end now. Because once it's over they can do this again. Forever. God, him and Blaine, together, like this, for-fucking-ever.

"Known you'd be like this," Blaine whispers, mouth open and rubbing and wet. Fingers at the crease of Kurt's thigh, still wet and so hot and Kurt tries so hard to hold off on bearing down against them, to hear.

"You're stunning. This…lost to it. Swearing and…the way you move. And sweat and beg. I can't handle it."

Kurt flushes and groans because he is all of those things and perhaps he should feel ashamed or embarrassed because this can't be pretty but Blaine's looking at him with feral eyes and sweat-curled hair and bright red cheeks. And his fingers are rubbing back and forth along the crease of his ass and he's hesitating because he can't work out how to not fall apart.

Kurt's voice gets high and breathless and somehow teasing again, through all this lust and desperation. "So don't handle it. Just…god Blaine, just—I need your fingers inside me again."

And Blaine whines something incoherent then, losing the battle completely because Kurt's gotten a little bit coy and dirty and demanding and giving him permission to just take him. His fingers slide too fast, not quite as wet as they could be, back inside, pressing deep twice, stretching already hot, stretched flesh and then just finding that spot again and rubbing back and forth in a relentless, desperate plea. Over and over and staring up as Kurt's head thrashes backwards and he moans Blaine's name, long and drawn out and in ecstasy.

"Come on Kurt." Blaine's teeth scratch down his belly, nose and chin pressed, nuzzling, and Kurt's fingers tangle in his hair, tightening with each thrust, almost enough to hurt but not really at all. Then Blaine's chin and neck catch at Kurt's cock as it bobs with the movement of his hips and that makes Blaine whine again. "Please," Blaine begs. "Please Kurt," and he keeps staring up at the strain in his boyfriend's body because it's fucking remarkable and he's anchored to watching. To seeing this happen around his fingers and across his bed.

But Kurt's just gone, he's forgotten he's flushed and thrashing and whining so high-pitched and ridiculous that he'd usually bite that sound back. He's remembering everything Blaine's ever asked of him because he will give anything for this to last forever and he remembers being told to talk and he does, supplication wrapped around expletives and moans and his boyfriend's name, over and over and over and Fuck.

"God I think this is going to kill me," Kurt moans and it's so silly that they both giggle in amongst the heat and Blaine's teeth are working marks into the skin of Kurt's stomach and Kurt's fingers are pulling harshly in Blaine's hair, twisting and tugging and holding on.

And then Blaine's other hand moves across Kurt's ass and then thigh, spreading his legs wider and angling so that the fingers inside can twist and it's a harsher, better touch and Kurt's hips raise off the bed inches as he swears again when the hot press inside him is even more. Hands untwisting, a last tug of Blaine's curls, Kurt's hands streak down, one over Blaine's, interlacing and holding tight at his hip, the other pulling his other leg back and open and he arches hard into the press of fingers inside him.

"Blaine," he keens again and again. "Blaine, please…just…fuck…oh fuck…Blaine…don't stop, don't—" he stutters to a stop, choking out a high-pitched sound, wrenched from his throat and echoing and Blaine just stares as Kurt arches off the bed and stillness and quiet suddenly reign the moment, Just Kurt pressing down against the fingers inside him and—fuck—clenching hard. Coming hard.

And this is what it feels like, this is what it is to come around another boy's fingers, god, to come with something inside him, fingers inside him. Fuck, not just something or another boy or fingers—it's Blaine. Now it's a mantra inside his head because his voice is caught somewhere deep in his chest. Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. And it's all tight and hot and everything. It's…

"Oh god," is all Blaine manages to mutter, biting his lip as he sits up a little straighter and watches enraptured; he works his fingers stroking over and over, working Kurt through his orgasm from the inside as Kurt holds still against the sheets, taut and arching and only his hips rocking as his cock empties across his stomach without ever really being touched. Blaine watches and loses himself and moans out "Kurt," with reverence and love and undeniable want.

Then Kurt collapses, Blaine's fingers slipping from him easily and wiping across the sheets as he lets Kurt's legs fall with the rest of him, still grasping his hand in his. He sees Kurt's chest expand and contract, fast and deep and his breath escaping in pants and gasps that sound loud to Blaine even though it's just breath. And Blaine knows that was amazing, is still caught up with how utterly in love he is with seeing Kurt this undone—this broken, limp mess of limbs and sex that is Kurt, and he made him that way.

"Blaine," Kurt calls in a soft still-broken voice, then again, "Blaine," His eyes are shut but his hand is squeezing Blaine's, the other reaching out blindly for contact.

Scrambling up over him, Blaine feels his own skin vibrating with energy, with being held too close to the edge for too long and Kurt is useless beneath him. He slides close and up, letting himself lap across a stripe of come painted over Kurt's stomach, tasting because he loves it even if he's only known it for a week and later on he'll realize that licking it up like this is completely obscene. But now it's making Kurt arch and giggle through a gasp and then he calls Blaine's name again.

Scrambling all the way up and pressing down over his boyfriend Blaine rocks against him, all pent up energy and tight coiled need and his mind is disintegrating one piece at a time while Kurt's eyes flutter open so he can watch it happen. Then he finds energy he shouldn't have and reaches up, wrapping a hand around Blaine's neck and pulling him down, letting Blaine moan messily into his mouth and dipping his tongue in to taste.

Blaine's voice is a begging, rasping sob when he pleads into Kurt's mouth, "Touch me."

And then Kurt reaches between them and slides a hand around Blaine's cock, feeling it hot and heavy, the tip so slick with precome. Rubbing a thumb in a circle there, appreciating the desperation before he wraps his hand around and sets up a tight, fast pace, smiling when Blaine's eyes roll back and his mouth goes slack around a moan stuttered across Kurt's lips.

For the second time that night, Blaine doesn't try for a second to prolong things—can't even think beyond just finishing and letting everything that's so tightly coiled unravel. He rocks into Kurt's touch, pressing their bodies close and catching Kurt's hand between them so it's all just a tight, hot mess of stomachs and sweat and friction, and that's perfect and Blaine comes thankfully, spilling between them with a rough growl. He collapses on top of Kurt, letting his head fall heavily beside Kurt's, his face buried in the pillow for a moment before he turns his face towards his boyfriend, nuzzling at neck and ear and hair, murmuring incoherently, "Kurt… I… but… oh Kurt… you—"

"Shhhh," Kurt whispers, bringing a hand up to trail his fingers lightly through the sweat-wet hair at the nape of Blaine's neck over and over in a slow soothing rhythm. "Shhh..." he says, still calming but melodious, almost laughing.

Soon though, Kurt realizes that the dead weight of Blaine on top of him means he can't quite catch his breath and he's still feeling light-headed and exhausted but so alive and he really needs to breathe. So he nudges against Blaine's ribs, hoping he'll take the hint and roll off him.

He doesn't, clinging as Kurt keeps gently pushing against him, rolling him off and away and eventually disentangling their limbs and angling Blaine onto his back beside him. Blaine frowns, his hand grasping uselessly at the air and trying to arch back into contact before flopping down onto the bed and makes a small, displeased noise at the back of his throat as Kurt rolls even further away, off the bed.

Kurt trails a finger lightly along Blaine's palm, looking down from where he stands, "I'll be right back, I promise," he says softly before turning and disappearing into the bathroom.

Blaine hears the water running for a few seconds, then Kurt re-emerges, gloriously naked and gorgeous and unashamed, wiping his chest with a damp washcloth as he makes his way back to the bed. Blaine watches him in silence, eyes wide and drinking in the spectacle as Kurt finishes cleaning himself off and then climbs back onto the bed. He kneels over Blaine and begins to clean him, wiping away sweat and come with gentle but efficient strokes of the warm washcloth.

Blaine continues to stare at Kurt, his eyes glassy and his gaze full of wonder. There is something so intimate about this moment that it actually leaves him breathless. He brings his hand up and pushes a strand of hair back off Kurt's forehead before pressing his palm flat against Kurt's cheek, just holding it there, his eyes still on Kurt's as he fights to recover his ability to speak.

"I—I love you so much," he whispers slowly, carefully. "You… the way you looked… the way it felt to be able to… I just… You… You don't even know how…" he breaks off, shaking his head at himself, at his continued incoherency. "I love you so much.".

Kurt can't help but giggle just a little bit even as he feels his eyes start to prickle at the intensity of emotion he hears in Blaine's voice. And he can't quite figure out how Blaine is possibly the one saying these things when he's the one who just had his world blown to pieces by what he thinks may very well be the most intense orgasm ever in the history of orgasms. He buys himself a few seconds as he finishes gently wiping Blaine off before dropping the cloth to the floor on top of the towel that they had abandoned post-shower.

He lies back down on his side next to Blaine, one of Blaine's hands instantly coming up to rest against his cheek. Kurt tries to think of what he can possibly say, but Blaine's thumb is rubbing softly back and forth across his cheekbone and he suddenly finds himself struggling to keep his eyes open. "Thank you," is all he can manage as his eyes flutter closed and he feels like he'll be lost to the world in the very next moment.

Blaine grins at that. "Yeah?" he asks. And there are so many questions loaded into that single word but he's so blown away and so sleepy that he just hopes Kurt can glean something of what he's thinking from it.

And Kurt can, fights exhaustion and forces his eyes open and grins back, locking gazes for a second of clarity before his eyes flutter shut again. "Oh yeah. Definitely," he whispers with absolute certainty.

"Good," Blaine mutters in response, his hand falling from Kurt's face to the bed in the small space between them and yeah, Blaine's actually completely exhausted as well.

"Hey Blaine?" Kurt murmurs, stupidly content to hear a small snore escaping his boyfriend as he slips in and out of consciousness. He brings Blaine's hand up between them, twining their pinkies together.

"Mmm?" comes Blaine's barely coherent response.

"I love you so much."

And that is easily the most epic, difficult, rewarding thing I've ever written. And I hope you liked it. And I'll hope you'll review it. Because even though I'm happy with this it makes me even happier to think you guys are happy with it.