Author's Note: Just a fun oneshot. Reviews are appreciated.


"Mn-hm. Yes miss. Ok, alright. Please, can you just tell me what the problem is?"

Kurt did his best to stifle a yawn, not wanting to sound too obviously apathetic to the woman's panic. Still, what did they expect of him? It was criminal to make someone wake up at eight am during their summer break. The old coffee machine spluttered, churning out a vile cup of caffeine to get him through his morning.

"I don't know what to do! My husband lent me his boat, and now it won't start! It just makes this horrible spluttering noise!"

"Try checking the gauge next to the ignition. What does the little red arrow point at?"

Kurt contemplated the sludge coffee distastefully.

"Its pointing at a large 'E.' What does that mean?"

"Your boat needs gas, m'am."

"... Boats need gas?"

Kurt exchanged a few parting pleasantries with the woman before hanging up. He swiveled his chair about, leaning out of the window of the little shack of a cabin where he was to be cooped up until the middle of August.

At least it had a nice view.

Outside, white gulls called and swooped over sheets of white-capped waves of brilliant emerald green and deep navy. The sun had risen into a flawlessly blue sky, just now piquing over palm trees of the far end of the bay. A warm, humid breeze wafted in through the window.

"Come on Kurt, its the Bahamas." Burt had said, trying to ease Kurt into the idea of spending his summer at his uncle Joe's boat repair. "You always keep telling me that you want to go in a real summer vacation."

"That's not really what I meant dad." Kurt sighed, lazily cutting out pictures in a fashion magazine. When he had mentioned that to his father, he had been dreaming about coffee shops in Paris. He didn't point that out though, he couldn't imagine a way to say it without sounding horribly conceited. "Stop trying to paint this up like its going to be some sort of adventure for me. Uncle Joe just wants someone down there to answer phones so he can spend more time being a surf bum." Kurt turned back to his magazines angrily. He wished that his father could have at least asked him before already booking the ticket. Now he didn't even know why he was bothering to argue.

"I'll be stuck in a little shack all summer."

Unfortunately, it proved to be exactly that. One month in, Kurt had not gotten to do very much of anything. Five days a week he worked, with the weekends off. Only then was he able to walk along the ice-white beaches, or take his time to swim in the bath-warm water and lie out on the sand until his skin was dry and kissed bronze by the sun. Every other day, all day he was confined to the hot and sticky boat shack, helping to answer phones or to help uncle Joe take apart and put engines back together.

Mostly, Kurt was left to slowly chew through the massive stack of romance paperbacks that he had taken out on extended loan from the library back home. After he got through the first four though, they left Kurt wishing that he had taken out some mysteries or thrillers instead. Constantly reading about beautiful women being swept off their feet by handsome men... it only made Kurt more painfully aware of how alone he was this summer. He probably could have had an amazing summer... if there was anyone here for him to spend time with. Everyone on the beaches were either old farts or the locals busy catering to the families on vacation. They all had their own lives to live, and Kurt imagined that none of them would have time for the lonely summer bird.

By noon, the day had heated the shack up to a nice simmering roast. There had not been a single call since the woman with the empty gas tank. Kurt had since forsaken his most recent novel (the protagonist's bike tour was currently moving through France, Kurt couldn't bear it) and he was now leaning out of the window, relying on the occasional puff of salty sea air to keep his head cool. This was ridiculous. Nobody was going to call 'Big Joe's Boar Repair' when practically everyone on this little spit of an island was a well-to-do with their fancy high class boats that were so shiny and white they could have been made by Apple.

iboats. Kurt thought ridiculously. No...iSail? iAmsobored? iThinkImightbeloosingit.

Kurt continued to look down at the water, his body itching to go out and dunk his head in that cool, clear water. He was going to pass out in here, he just knew it. He looked dubiously back at the phone, lying as if asleep there on the gritty table.

He could just pop out for an hour or so.

He doubted that uncle Joe would even be back for lunch.

Before Kurt could second-guess himself, he had dashed out of Big Joe's Boat Repair and headed down the dirt road, kicking up dust with his sandals. Soon he slipped past the chain-link fence into the local beach (a bit more rocky and trash-infested than the picked-clean touristy ones) and was tearing out of his clothing.

Nobody ever came to this beach. It was tucked under a sandy cliffside, and didn't generate enough waves to attract the surfing crowd. He doubted there was much to fear in leaving his ugly, sweat-dampened polo shirt behind a dry rock with his sandals. Clad only in his cargo khakis, Kurt ran off into the water, diving into the cool, liquid bliss. At once, his body experienced an energizing thrill. He effortlessly sliced through the small waves, diving under the deeper ones, and headed out to open water. As he swam, he realized that his uncle probably wouldn't be too mad to find out he had ditched for the day. Kurt was a more diligent employee than Uncle Joe himself. Hell, his uncle was probably surprised Kurt hadn't done something like this earlier. Kurt just wasn't the sort of boy that rule breaking never came easily to. He was nearly done with high-school now, about to turn eighteen. Despite this, he had never skipped a class, gotten in trouble, had a real relationship... or done anything that he could really count as living.

Perhaps that was why there was a low-burning flame in his chest, driving him out to sea before it could go out.

One mile out, one mile back. It was an exercise he liked to do every evening just before the sun started to set. If there was one good thing about being stranded on this little island, it was that there was plenty of water to indulge his love to swim. Being in the living, breathing, writhing water was a hundred times better than the Lima public swimming pool, a scummy sort of place that reeked of chlorine and feet. Kurt had to use the best hair care products he could find to keep from suffering massive damage from the chemicals in that water.

Soon enough, Kurt broke the surface of the ocean with a gasp. He floated there a bit, looking back at the distant shore. He could usually tell when he was at the one mile mark when he could see the large red buoy bobbing about forty feet away. Today, the buoy was accompanied by one of those shiny, one-man luxury boats.

An iBoat. Kurt mentally supplied, sitting up to tread in the water. There was a man on deck too, and he was... waving at Kurt?

"Hey!" The voice had to work hard to make it to him over the waves. The man on deck was waving his arms over his head. He clearly was in a bit of distress, or thought that Kurt might be. He was a good ways out after all, perhaps he thought Kurt was stranded at sea, left behind by a tour boat...?

Something like that.

Best go set him straight.

Kurt did a quick front crawl to the side of the boat, bracing himself against the glossy side.

No barnacles either. How do they DO that to these things to get them so shiny?

"Hello?" He craned his head back, calling up. It was impossible for him to properly see the man on the boat from this point, but at least they could hear one another now.

"Hey!" The man shouted back. Or... was it a man? He sounded younger. Possibly... Kurt's age? He perked up a bit, pleasantly surprised. "Do you know anything about boats?"

And Kurt's elation immediately deflated.

This was some sort of bad joke, it had to be. Here Kurt was, thinking that had finally put some good distance between himself and that lousy job at the boat repair shop, and now here it was, being thrown right back in his face.

"Yeah, I do." Kurt sighed, but there was no answer. A few moments passed of gentle rocking out on the water.

"Hello?" Kurt was immediately answered by a rope ladder being flung over the side, landing with a thunk and a splash in the water.

"Come up!"

Kurt gripped one of the rungs, feeling a little apprehensive. Really when he thought about it, was this much different than getting into a stranger's car?

Well, I could jump off of the boat at any time. He reasoned, his heart pounding in his ears. Nothing would stop me from doing that. From swimming back to shore, back to that crappy desk job in that stinky little outhouse of a shed...

Kurt's sudden thirst for adventure won out over his common sense, and he scrambled up the rope ladder. When he reached the top, strong hands grasped his forearms, pulling him up suddenly and hauling him onto the deck.

Kurt yelped in alarm, being suddenly hoisted up by a surprising display of strength. He was cleared over the side, and though his legs flailed to get a sense of balance, he ended up hitting the deck, landing on his back. It was amazing that he hadn't cracked his head. Kurt glared up, about to snap at the big shot who thought it was acceptable to treat strangers like the catch of the day, but found his voice died in his throat.


"Wow, I caught myself a mermaid." He laughed.

Kurt hadn't been able to see from the water, but this boy was definitely around his age. His age, with curly dark hair and the most beautiful smile and dreamy brown eyes Kurt had ever seen...

"And here I thought the locals were trying to pull my leg about them." The teasing continued. Kurt's cheek was poked.

"Huh?" He was momentarily stunned. Had Kurt forgotten what other teenagers looked like? Is that why this boy was so impossibly handsome right now?

"I'll get you something to drink, wait here."

He walked off, and Kurt couldn't help but notice how perfectly those khaki shorts hugged his thighs and what looked to be an impossibly firm buttocks. A nice match to toned arms, partially hidden under a white button-up. With the expensive Armani glasses perched in his hair, he was the sterling image of a rich yacht-club trust fund baby. Kurt sat up and shrank back a bit against the railing of the boat, feeling a bit out of place wearing only the ratty cargo shorts he had pulled on at six in the morning. No wonder the guy was teasing him about being a mermaid. The two came from entirely different worlds. Water trickled off of Kurt's body, pooling at his feet. Kurt roughly ran his hands through his hair, trying to wring it out dry.

"Here, catch."

Kurt was nearly knocked out by the bottle of fancy mineral water.


"I'm Blaine."


And he was rather thirsty. Kurt leaned back on the rail, gratefully chugging the water down. He was oblivious to the way those smoldering chocolate eyes watched his adam's apple bob with each gulp, how his soft lips were locked in a delectable 'o' around the mouth of the square bottle. He wasn't at all aware at the way the droplets of sea water dripping down his body, pooling in his collarbone before spilling out down his chest, seeking out the fastest route through the dips and curves of his torso.

"Sorry, you said there was something wrong with your boat?"

It was Blaine who had to snap out of it now.

"Y-yeah. I was out on the water and the thing just... died. I dunno."

"Could you show me?"

"Yeah, I think its this way."

They headed to the far end of the boat, giving Kurt time to appreciate just what it meant to own an iBoat. The majority of the back end was taken up by a large, flat rectangular panel that Kurt was certain concealed a hot tub. Across the polished floors and against the wall of the cabin was a delightful looking mini-bar, and as they walked alongside the cabin, Kurt could easily see through the wide glass panels that there was a fully furnished lounge area that could stand beside any of the fine hotels scattered along the beach.

"Here it is." Blaine was already working to open up a hatch at the front. Kurt spent an amused moment watching Blaine struggle to open it from the wrong end before stepping in to correct him.

"I take it this isn't your boat."

"No, its Dave's... my father." Kurt picked up on that tone immediately, it wasn't really hard to miss. It was the same inflection that he used whenever Kurt had to talk about the bullies that tormented him through three consecutive years of high school. Tired and distasteful, with just a touch of poison. He wasn't about to comment however; it wasn't really his place to pry.

"Okay, take a step back, let me see." Kurt kneeled down on the deck, bending over to get his head and arms inside. It didn't take too long to spot the problem.

"Your cooling tank is cracked." Kurt sighed. Unfortunately, this was quite typical. All these fancy luxury boats were serviced by the same people, the high-end places by the boating clubs. They charged through-the-roof prices for repairs that in reality cost them less than $10 to do. What was worse, they had a horrible tenacity for 'fixing' these boats in a way that would only cause them to break down again by the next season, steadily wringing their clients out on pointless repairs. That seemed to be the case here. The cooling tank looked like it had been patched up in a pretty shoddy way. Sure, it would keep for a while, but it was a guaranteed impermanent fix.

"Which means your engine overheated. I don't think there's anything I can do for it all the way out here." Kurt pulled himself back onto deck, turning to face Blaine. "You'd have to... hello?" He snapped his fingers, jerking Blaine back into reality. The guy was pretty alright, but boy did he space out a lot. Kurt didn't make the connection that his rear in the air might have had something to do with it.

"Yeah, sorry?"

"You should radio in the coast guard and have them tow you back to shore." Kurt said meekly. He was sure that Blaine wasn't intentionally eye fucking him. It was probably just in his head, the sensation of those eyes caressing the contours of his body...

"Ah, see that's the thing." Blaine said slyly, rubbing the back of his neck. "The radio is sort of... shot."

"Shot?" Kurt repeated, his head cocked to the side.

"Battery is busted. I never had to use it before, so I figured..." He shrugged. "I know, I know it was a stupid thing to do." He held up his hands, seeing Kurt's admonishing expression. "I kind of figured I'd be stuck out here though, its okay. The harbormaster will notice I haven't come back in the morning, he'll send out a search team then." Blaine shrugged, leaning against the railing, looking back out at the distant shore.

"The harbormaster?" Kurt leaned against the rail beside him. "What about your parents? I'm sure they'll notice first!" Unless, was Blaine here by himself? With friends perhaps?

Blaine laughed dryly, looking down at his hands.

"My dad will probably notice the boat is gone before he notices I am." He looked up at Kurt, brushing off the somber moment with a brilliant smile. When it hit Kurt, he actually had to grip the railing a bit tighter... his knees had gone all weak and trembly. They trembled. He had been certain for years that was only a cliched hyperbole, not something that could physically happen.

"So it'll be alright. Though... it would be a bit better if I had some company." He looked away from Kurt carefully as he spoke, though he glanced back at him with ill-concealed hopefulness. Something hot was churning in Kurt's stomach, and it felt suspiciously like the little fire being coaxed to life with a warm breath.

"...What?" Blaine couldn't really be offering what Kurt thought he was offering.

"Well I've never been stranded alone on a boat in the ocean before. I've already been out here about two hours now, and already the quiet is starting to get to me. I figure once night goes down though, it might get a little... creepy."

Kurt wasn't sure how to react to this. What was he supposed to say? If he wasn't so surprised at the invitation, he might have realized that he could simply swim back to shore and alert the cost guard to Blaine's predicament himself. Then he could... go right back to his crappy stinky desk job, and spare himself from an evening on tropical waters, in a luxury mini-yacht with the boy of his teenaged dreams...

"Well... I can't really spend the night in just my shorts." Kurt shrugged, causing Blaine to grin broadly. He reached out and squeezed Kurt's hand, causing his heart to leap up into his throat.

"We should get you out of those clothes then."

The bedroom on the boat was two floors down, tucked away with a quiet sort of feel to it. The lighting was dim, and large glass panes looked over the water, the sun making its way down to the rosy horizon. The majority of the room was taken up by a large, circular bed with a thick white comforter and cream colored sheets and pillows. The image was reflected twice over however, as the ceiling was paneled entirely with mirrors. Looking around, Kurt realized with keen fascination that this place he was standing in was the closest thing he had seen in his young life to properly qualify the term 'love nest.'

Kurt gulped, keeping back towards the wall. So this was really happening then? He had to find a way to discreetly pinch himself. Sure, Kurt's fantasy of his first time had always been in a Parisian studio, perhaps one over a small cafe in a trendy square... but he supposed that being romantically stranded out in tropical waters would do just fine. Kurt felt his ears growing red, but before he could even make a peep,Blaine strode right past him and right to a panel which concealed the vast closet space that the room also offered.

"You look like you're somewhere in between my dad's size and mine." He mused, pulling a few shirts off of the rack.

"Oh, clothes. Of course." Kurt's dove into the closet nearest to himself in order to hide how red his face had quickly become. Maybe he needed another dunk in the ocean. What was wrong with him? Being cooped up on his own for a month with only a bunch of sappy (and steamy) stories to hold his interest, that's what was wrong with him. He buried his face in a clean black shirt, sighing in deep the scent of fresh laundry detergent and the vague aroma of something spicy. If he focused on that smell, perhaps he could drive the shame out of his mind. Here he was, making assumptions. That Blaine was... like him. That Blaine might be into him, just because of a few charming glances and the most dazzling, sex-soaked eyes that ever touched his own...

With a little digging, the two were able to find an outfit that fit Kurt properly. It was a little bit on the snug side, but they both seemed to prefer Kurt in Blaine's clothing. Blaine, because he seemed to want to have nothing to do with anything that belonged to his father, and Kurt because he discovered that only Blaine's clothing had that special spicy smell that he had detected.

The kitchenette across from the lounge was fully stocked, and the two had a rather amusing dinner consisting of appetizers and vegetable platters with fancy varieties of dip. Forsaking the fancy sofas made of Italian leather, they sprawled out on the thickly carpeted floor. Blaine seemed endlessly amused at Kurt's fascination in the array of fancy cheeses. A casual comment comparing their location to that of South Pacific launched the two into a passionate discussion of theater and outrageous Broadway numbers. Both were clearly starved for a like soul in this wasteland of sugary drinks and vapid smiles. The conversation continued flawlessly for hours, the two hopping between one another's minds, basking in the glow of perfect company. For a while, it wasn't too different for Kurt from the pizza-and-movie sleepovers he had with his girl friends back in Lima.

Except instead of Mercedes, it was a beautiful, curly-haired angel whose fingers kept brushing against his (accidentally, he was sure.)

"And all Uncle Joe ever wants to talk about is boat engines and the latest swell out on the cove." Kurt sighed, refilling his champagne flutes with sparkling water.

"If I mentioned anything like this around my dad, he'd probably deck me again... like he could beat the gay out of me or something." There was a harsh, cloying edge to what Blaine had clearly tried to start out as a playfully bitter retort. Kurt choked down his water and looked over at him with wide eyes.

"Sorry." He sat back, hugging his knees. "I guess I should have told you that before I asked you to stay."

Kurt was well aware of just how lucky he was to have a father like Burt. But seeing Blaine curled up like that, still reeling from faded injuries... it made him want to call home that very moment and apologize for every sigh and moan he gave his father on his way down here for the summer. He recognized that look of mottled fear and loathing inBlaine's eyes... he spent most of the last year feeling that way after all. Bullies came in all different shapes and sizes, but at least Karofsky didn't ever take him to the damn Bahamas.

Kurt scooted a bit closer to Blaine, hooking his pinkie around Blaine's. When the digit was squeezed in return, he placed a gentle, comforting kiss on the boy's cheek.

"I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Its okay." Kurt soothed, petting Blaine's hair (something he had wanted to do all night.)

"Kurt... can I kiss you?"

In truth, he had wanted to seize those lips the minute he hauled Kurt up on board. He hadn't been joking (entirely) when he thought the boy must have been some sort of mythical creature. He was so beautiful and vibrant, and unabashedly himself. The idea that the two of them might only have this night together tore at him from the inside. It frightened him a bit, how hard and how quickly he had fallen for Kurt. The last thing he wanted to do was o scare Kurt off. He didn't want him to think that when he asked for company, that he had really been expecting company. In his mind, he thought the term with the same tone that his mother used to describe the associates that came with his father on business trips... all of them lovely and young with more bust than brains.

Blaine's fears were dissuaded when Kurt leaned forward, pausing just short of ninety percent of the way in perfect form. Blaine's thumbs brushed Kurt's cheeks, bracing him as they pulled together for a sweet, intense kiss. It was perfectly chaste, but all the same a burst of passion ignited between the two.

They both wanted this... so badly.

With neither encountering hesitation, the kiss intensified. Blaine's lips moulded and shaped themselves against Kurt's, drawing him into it. Kurt's back hit the clean white carpet, his shoulders thrusting forward, following the motion of his tongue drawn into the frenzied kiss.

Kurt's cheeks had gone from a delicate pink to a deep red. This was becoming far more than just a first kiss. His arms were wrapped around Blaine and had found their way under his shirt, stroking the curve of his spine with his thumbs. Blaine in turn had straddled himself firmly between Kurt's slim hips. The kiss ebbed from a wild frenzy to one of a slow, deep passion. Blaine moaned quietly, stroking Kurt's neck and pushing into the kiss again, and again. A steady gyration worked up between the two on the floor, rolling from their shoulders to the hips.

When they finally parted, Blaine and Kurt were both breathless and starry-eyed.

Both were helplessly turned on.

Kurt panicked for a moment when Blaine pulled away from him. He wasn't really planning on leaving him wound up in heat on the floor, was he? Had he just been teasing him?

A million insecurities ran through Kurt's mind in that half a moment it took for Blaine to reach out to Kurt and tug him to his feet, placing a sweet kiss on his nose.

"Come on."

Kurt was surprised to see how much time had passed since they entered the cabin. The sun was already touching down on the rosy horizon, every color clear and sharp as only the tropics could make it. Kurt had become accustomed to the postcard feel of the little islands though, and had seen the horizon at sunset many times before. What was new this time around however, was the sharp silhouette of the mysterious Blaine, tugging himself free of his cotton shirt. He tossed the garment aside on deck, and pressed a button on the side panel. There was a gentle mechanical whirr, and the grey cover on the hot tub slide aside to reveal the frothing, bubbling water lit from below with a soft blue glow. Blaine

seemed to have no intention of changing into a pair of swimming trunks, but rather slipped into the hot water wearing only a snug pair of boxer briefs.

"You coming in?"

Kurt was a bit frightened of that smile. It was so perfect and bright... he had a feeling that with that smile he could be coaxed to do more than get into a hot tub with a raging semi. Kurt undressed quickly and hopped into the water, too bashful to linger on deck wearing nothing but a pair of satin boxers.

"What are you so tense about?" Blaine joked, sliding over to him. "You're wearing my underwear, after all." He laughed, causing Kurt to shiver as the warm breath caressed the shell of his ear.

Kurt scoffed and splashed at Blaine playfully. The rapid retaliation caused the two to break out into fierce laughter, spraying and splashing at one another. It was something Kurt hadn't done since he was five, wearing duck-shaped water wings in the Lima community pool. That time, the splash-off ended with Kurt getting water up his nose.

Tonight, the it ended with a tangle of slick, smooth arms. Their lips crashed together once again. Blaine ran his hands through Kurt's soft hair, pushing him up against the wall of the hot tub. Perhaps it was the heat of the water, the thick air of the summery night, or the complete serenity of the isolation and the dark that did it to them. The two found their inhibitions slipping away as they melted into one one another's arms. Blaine pressed against Kurt's chest, his elbows back on the edge of the deck. A moan was shared between parted, breathless lips.

Kurt leaned back against the deck, following Blaine's lead as he peppered his smooth chest with hot kisses. He closed his eyes and shuddered, yelping when teeth gently scraped against his collarbone, then he steadily took his time to run his tongue along the deep groove.

"Blaine..." Heat bloomed across Kurt's cheeks as Blaine suckled on the rigid bone at the base of his neck. "Stop teasing." A sudden nip there caused him to buck reflexively, causing their hips to rub together again, this time causing Blaine to shudder and hiss.

They both wanted this.

The time to play the roles of schoolgirl virgins had passed.

The last vestiges of their clothing were finally tugged and discarded with grunts of frustration, giving the two a brief breather before they quickly returned to praising one another's bodies.

Kurt leaned over Blaine, their sweat-damped foreheads nuzzling together as a hand gripped his thighs, slowly running up them, teasing his cheeks. Kurt gripped Blaine's shoulders, thrusting back against the fingers currently teasing the rim of his hole.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." He moaned, arching his back as Blaine peppered kisses down his smooth, slick chest.

Kurt's begging didn't stop Blaine from taking his time, gently probing him and stretching him. His fingers curled slightly inside of Kurt, causing a jolt of pleasure to shoot up his spine. He cried out, fisting Blaine's hair tightly. Blaine unconsciously wetted his lips. Kurt's voice in ecstasy had a distinct musical treble to it... it was beautiful. He mercilessly teased the spot, milking sweet gasps and hot breath panting into the crook of his shoulder.

"Spread your legs a bit more." Blaine finally removed his fingers, helping to position Kurt over himself. He held Kurt's hips steady, maneuvering him onto his rigid cock. With a brief hiss of pain, he slowly lowered himself onto Blaine's lap. He hugged Kurt, kissing him soothingly, teasing a pert nipple with his tongue, causing Kurt's fingers to twitch and dig into his back. Slowly, they began to move. Blaine leaned into Kurt at the perfect angle, causing that sacred bundle of nerves to be struck once again. Kurt shuddered, pawing and grasping Blaine's shoulders as any sense of burning or pain was overridden by waves of hot pleasure. Blaine struggled to keep himself composed. Kurt was so... beautiful. As their gyrations began in a heated frenzy, he felt such a compulsion to drive deep into him, to never let go.

The waves made in the hot tub splashed up over the side, spilling across the deck. Their hands were everywhere, touching, palming, stroking. They kissed blindly, throwing themselves into every action with abandon. They were on edge from the very beginning, and both knew they wouldn't last terribly long. With a final push, Kurt climaxed with a shuddering moan, tightening around Blaine who lost himself somewhere in Kurt's expression as he came, his lips quivering.

The waves eased back to a calm.

Kurt slumped against Blaine's chest, not yet willing to separate the two of them. However, Blaine noticed that his lover's face was flushed red and shiny. If the two didn't want to pass out here, it was time to get out of the water.

Kurt whined softly as Blaine gently drew out of him, and lifted him out of the hot tub and onto the deck. He didn't normally enjoy being picked up, mostly because the only time it ever happened was followed by a sudden drop into a dumpster.

Instead, he was placed on soft, white towels spread out on the deck. Here, they resumed their post-coital bliss, fondly curled up beside one another.

"You are... amazing." Blaine breathed, stroking Kurt's cheek. The boy made a small sound, cupping Blaine's hand and placing a kiss on each knuckle. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of Kurt's lips moving on his skin. A shiver ran up his spine as his tongue ran up his middle finger, slowly suckling on the tip.

"Mm, Kurt." Blaine ran his hand up Kurt's spine. " You shouldn't tempt me further." Kurt laughed in response, shifting himself on top of Blaine. Though their bodies had cooled, their blood was still hot.

They spent much of the night this way, close and intense. They delved into one another, exploring the hidden secrets of their bodies. The deep night and early morning was punctuated by bouts of sleep, interrupted with fond kisses and touches. All too soon, the sky began to lighten in the distance, and fingers of sunlight broke the horizon.

The birds had just begun to call when they saw the lights on the water.

"The search-boats." Blaine yawned, snuggling into Kurt's shoulder.

"They're going to find us in a minute." Kurt said softly. "We should get dressed."

"Or we could let them find us here." Blaine teased, laughing at the absurdity of it. Just last night, he was terrified of the idea of his father finding him singing show tunes outside of the shower. But now? Let them find him lying out on a lounge chair with another boy, both of them only clothed in the musk of their own lovemaking.

Bring it on.

"Come on." Kurt stood up, tugging Blaine to his feet. The two slipped into the cabin just as the spotlights hit the boat. A horn blared off in the distance.

They were rescued.

"Blaine... I have a confession to make." They wandered below deck, hand in hand.


"I... probably could have fixed your engine last night." Kurt rubbed the back of his neck, leaning against a wall. "You can make a temporary, glue-like patch for a cooling tank with a few household items I noticed you had lying around... it would have gotten you back to shore at least." He glanced aside at Blaine anxiously. Their evening had been amazing, but would Blaine be angry that it began on a note of deception?

Blaine just laughed, kissing the crook of Kurt's neck.

"That's funny." He said warmly, heading into the bedroom to fetch a change of clothes. "While we're at it, I suppose I should mention that the radios were never broken."