Fic: Glimmer

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Heartwolf wanted Kurt obsessed with Blaine's eyelashes and losing control and ending up coming on Blaine's face and getting it in his eyelashes. So basically an unplanned, very messy facial. On Christmas, in a few years time. Because Blaine is beautiful and Kurt notices. And lots of feelings and quite a healthy dose of comeplay. But don't worry, there's no actual mishap with come and Blaine's beautiful eyes. Also lots of kissing.

Warnings: Comeplay, facial, low level dirty talk, very light bondage.

Words: 5700 oops

With the TV off it isn't dark in the lounge room, it's just a different kind of light. The slow fade of hundreds of tiny Christmas lights: first red, then blue, yellow and green. Transitioning lazily and the shifting, twinkling silhouettes amplified by the flicker of almost burnt out candles on the coffee table. Blaine looks stunning in it: shadowed and flickering, the lines of his face sharper—cheekbones, jaw, the crease of a dream between his eyes—the curves softer—the slope of his neck, his lips, his temples. Kurt's fingers tangle in Blaine's loose curls and he tilts Blaine's face to better watch the light play across the roughness of his stubble and the flutter of his eyelashes.

Kurt's breath catches.

It's almost Christmas and it will be their first living together. They can't quite get over that: the coming home to each other and this tiny apartment every night. Even though there's no space for a tree, Kurt has done his best with garlands and ornaments, all picked up for cheap or free from work or friends. In the corner they've made space to heap up the Christmas gifts. Their official shopping is done but that doesn't stop either of them from sneaking one more gift home, wrapping it and leaving it nudged up against the others.

It's late, probably after midnight and there is nowhere better than here, wrapped up around each other on the couch. Kurt reaches for the remote and the muted television is switched off as he continues to stroke through the soft curls framing Blaine's face, still staring at him.

Maybe it's the Christmas lights casting phantoms of color across Blaine's skin, maybe it's the red wine they had earlier, maybe it's nothing special at all. Blaine looks remarkable, stunning, beautiful, and Kurt's heart races, he forgets for a second to breathe, and his whole body throbs with a love-drunk ache.

He swallows and lets his thumb trace across Blaine's temple, feeling the slow beat of Blaine's pulse mismatching against his own. Blaine's eyelashes—beautiful, long, devastatingly soft, one of Kurt's many fixations—flutter and then open and Blaine smiles a sleepy, happy smile at him.

"Hey," he whispers roughly. "Movie finished?"

Kurt hums instead of replying and pushes his fingers into Blaine's hair, loosening the last vestiges of product that the curls have been battling since this morning.

"Wanna go to bed?" Blaine asks, stretching and grinning a grin that means sex, or at the very least a valiant attempt to kiss each other to orgasm before sleep takes them under.

But Kurt can't quite bring himself to look away from the way the transition from red to blue makes Blaine's skin glow and his still-sleepy eyes seem a brighter brown than usual.

"I want one of my Christmas presents now, I think," Kurt ends up saying, his lips already quirking up, his voice playful.

Blaine laughs and twists our of Kurt's lap, stretching himself out before settling at the other end of the couch, pulling his knees to his chest as he rakes his hands through his hair. "Which one?"

"None of those," Kurt tells him, mouth now curved into a perfect dirty grin, one that is unmistakable to Blaine. One that makes Blaine's whole body tense and then relax, a leg falling off the side of the couch so he can roll his hips and let his shirt ride up, a hand coming up to scratch over his belly as he waits.

"You'll give me anything, right?" Kurt asks, voice low, still teasing.

"Of course."

"Anything I ask for?" Kurt shifts to his hands and knees, still staring at Blaine, eyes moving across his face as the colors of the room shift.

Blaine laughs and wonders what he's in for, feels his cock already stirring at just the possibility of an idea. "Anything," he says.

"You'd blow me right now?" Kurt whispers and that makes Blaine's brow crease which in turn almost makes Kurt giggle.

Three years together in New York, growing comfortable and safe and rediscovering the inevitability that they live the rest of their lives together and sex has been threaded all the way through that. Requesting a blowjob is hardly a stretch and Blaine, if he is completely honest with himself, feels a little disappointed that Kurt isn't hatching something really new to try out. In the last few months, in their own home, they're tried some new things. Blaine likes trying new things.

"A blowjob?" Blaine asks as Kurt's fingers play with the leg of his sweatpants.


"That's hardly worth calling a Christmas gift," Blaine pouts. His voice drops. "I'd go down on you every day of the week if you'd let me."

Kurt huffs out a laugh and crawls the small distance to Blaine, sliding easily between his legs and up his body, hands in his hair and mouth on his mouth. He kisses him, deep and hard once and then pulls back only to lament, "You know that wouldn't leave us time for anything else." Then he goes back to kissing him again.

It's so easy for Blaine to just get lost in it, to forget in an instant that Kurt just wants a blowjob because even a blowjob is still pretty fantastic and Blaine lets his mind trip ahead, to sinking his mouth down around Kurt and listening to him moan and whimper and beg. He'll never get sick of that, never get sick of Kurt kissing him, deep and hard like now. Chasing his tongue with his own and licking, sucking, biting his way across Blaine's lips.

He'll never get sick of any of this.

Focusing, Blaine drags his hands down Kurt's back, scratching through the material of his shirt and then grabbing hard at Kurt's hips, digging his fingers in and feeling the roll of Kurt's body in response. He grabs and drags down, wanting more, needing to feel him.

And Kurt's moaning into his mouth as he collapses, letting Blaine hold him close and letting gravity pull him down even harder, bitting hard on Blaine's bottom lip as he feels the buck of Blaine's body against where he's already hard in his pants.

"God, you're that desperate for it?" Blaine manages to get out between kisses, acutely aware of Kurt's fingers in his hair, his lips rough on his, and Kurt fully hard between them, rocking up over and over.

Kurt moans again bites once more at Blaine's bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before he pulls back, onto his knees so he can grab at Blaine's shirt, pulling it up and over Blaine's head and dropping it behind the couch.

Mouth on Blaine's chest, kissing and biting, Kurt's eyes stay open, watching as Blaine's head falls back, smiling around a gasp, as Blaine's hands automatically card through Kurt's hair. Blaine tugs to get Kurt's mouth to a nipple and holds him there long enough for Kurt to suck it to a tight, hard peak.

"Fuck," Blaine hums as Kurt switches sides and lets Blaine arch up under him. "Bedroom?" Because Blaine isn't sure he'll be able to walk if Kurt keeps this up.

The answer comes immediately. "Nope."

Blaine laughs and then it trips into a series of gasps as Kurt's nails rake down over his chest, stinging instantly and soothed as Kurt licks over the red scratch marks. Blaine had been sure they were over the 'christening all the rooms' stage, particularly since there were only really three rooms and the bathroom was tiny. Not that he's about to complain, not when he's meant to be giving Kurt a blowjob and instead Kurt seems set on kissing and licking and biting down his chest. Blaine's pretty sure that if he gets a little friction and Kurt just keeps going, he can certainly get off from just this.

It's marvellous, all the hot heat of Kurt's body and the sensations his fingers and mouth are delivering, it's perfect and unending until suddenly Kurt stops.

Kurt sits up on his knees in between Blaine's spread legs, he's panting and dishevelled and blatantly hard in his pants. And he watches, as Blaine's body falls loose when he realizes Kurt isn't coming back, splaying and breathing and groaning a little of his frustration.

There are the lines of where Kurt's nails have scratched, a hickey just under a nipple that's already a stunning purple, and everything from Blaine's belly to his cheeks is splotchy red from kisses and licks, the sheen of sweat and spit shining as the Christmas lights change color and the candles flicker.

Blaine has still got his head hanging back over the armrest of the couch, still splayed and beautiful, when Kurt says, almost shyly, "You look pretty in the lights."

Pretty doesn't even begin to cover it.

Craning his neck up, Blaine watches Kurt, sees the lights reflected in his eyes, the truth to his upturned lips. It's probably the wrong thing to say, but the intensity is too much and Blaine has to say something. "Thank you."

They stare at each other a moment longer, the intensity dripping away and replaced by playfulness and simple lust. Blaine's hard in his sweatpants, his cock tenting them obscenely and the quickest way for him to get off, the best way, is to do as he has been told and give Kurt the blowjob he deserves. Grinning, Blaine twists off the couch, onto his knees and then up, unsteadily onto his feet.

His hard-on looks even more ridiculous-hot now that he's standing, pushing his hips out to emphasise what Kurt should be looking at. He stretches a hand for Kurt and says, "Come on," as though he has a plan.

Kurt just laughs, once, high and melodic, slapping his hand away and ignoring him, pulling his own shirt over his head and dumping it out of sight. "I thought this was my Christmas present?"

Unfazed, Blaine just arches an eyebrow, "Well what do you want Kurt?" and he wraps his lips around Kurt's name perfectly, saying it like he always says it but sexy and low and it pulses right down Kurt's spine and makes his toes curl.

Arching his own eyebrow, Kurt slides up off the couch much more elegantly that Blaine could even manage. Kurt only lets Blaine pull him in for once quick hard kiss, Blaine's hand finding his cock too easily and stroking through the soft material, before Kurt pulls back, laughing again, enjoying Blaine breathless and pouting in this, their default dynamic.

Blaine watches as Kurt moves the still lit candles to the mantle and then drags the coffee table out of the way. Kurt pulls the largest of the throw-pillows from the pile in the corner and drops it, unceremoniously, onto the wooden floorboards at the center of the room.

His voice is crystal-clear when he says, "Kneel."

Oh, so this is how it is?

Blaine doesn't mind so much, doesn't really understand, but it isn't the first time and that's just fine because no matter what, it's always good. He drops heavily to his knees on the pillow and waits with wide, patient eyes.

Kurt stares at him and tries to keep his breathing even, to stay in control. Blaine can't know how amazing he looks, Blaine never seems to know, so he can't possibly know now. Bare-chested and with his pants loose and slung low on his hips. His skin glistens with sweat and stretches, twists over muscle and bone with every breath, every pulse of blood, and still the light plays across him, angles and scatter and hints of color.

With his hands on Blaine's shoulders, Kurt guides him around a little, "Twist," he says and Blaine shifts.

The flicker of candlelight casts the shadows of Blaine's jaw and his nose the harshest, dark and light and everything intoxicatingly beautiful. Kurt's fingers dig into the flesh of Blaine's shoulder to stop himself from just dropping and kissing, rutting together to orgasm.

One of Blaine's hands wraps around Kurt's knee, applying pressure, clearly wanting Kurt to shift, to let him begin. Kurt says playfully, "Hands down," and then has to swallow a moan because that's an idea.

Dropping his hand and waiting obediently, Blaine fidgets under Kurt's gaze. His legs spread a little wider on the pillow and he resists the urge to slide a hand into his own pants and stroke a few times. Kurt keeps touching his face, angling and pushing at the curls and when Blaine looks up at him, Kurt is staring back with the same intensity as before.

Blaine has to break it again, biting his lip before saying, "I feel like one of your fashion models."

Huffing and seemingly finally done with getting Blaine in just the right position, Kurt says, "That's a fantasy for another day," and then laughs at the momentary scandal that crosses Blaine's face. "You really do look fantastic in this light," he murmurs.

Blaine doesn't know what to say. Kurt turns away from him with one last caress of his fingertips over Blaine's chin, he moves to the pile of Christmas presents and searches for only a moment before picking one up.

"Hey, that's for me—" is only half way out of Blaine's mouth when Kurt rips quickly through the paper he wrapped a couple of weeks earlier.

"Kurt…" Blaine lets his voice trail off, utterly lost.

Then he sees what, precisely, his gift is. Kurt pulls it loose from the paper and shakes it out. He lets it drape across his hands. It's a long scarf, made of some fabric Blaine doesn't even know the name of. It's purple or blue, shades of both, light and ethereal, certainly meant for the early fall when the sun is still hot but the wind is becoming cold.

Kurt is still running it over his hands as he crosses back to Blaine. "Merry Christmas," he says quietly, looping the scarf around behind Blaine's neck and smiling bashfully. "When I bought it, this wasn't why…" he trails off and Blaine just stares.

"You know I thought I was meant to be giving you a Christmas blowjob and now you're opening my presents for me and—"

Kurt cuts him off, leaning down to press their lips together softly. "It suits you."

"Everything you buy me suits me," Blaine counters and his fingers itch with wanting to move and drag Kurt's pants down to his ankles, drag Kurt down onto the floor. "Kurt," he eventually says.

"This is still my Christmas present," Kurt whispers, standing back up and running a thumb across Blaine's cheek. "You'll tell me if it's too much."

He doesn't give Blaine a chance to ask what exactly might be too much, stepping behind him and touching him again. Deft fingers down across his bare shoulders and then pulling the scarf away from his neck. Blaine feels Kurt drop to his knees behind him and he can feel the heat of his body there even if it is only his hands still on him. Kurt traces down his arms to Blaine's hands, pulling them back and together and it's only then that Blaine realizes.

His mouth falls open and he can't stop from letting out a small, "Oh," as he cranes his neck to watch behind where Kurt's gaze is focused low, his hands knotting the scarf around Blaine's wrists, pulling it tight and then knotting it again. Blaine thinks he finishes it with a bow.

When Kurt is done he moves back onto his feet, back around in front of Blaine and pauses. Blaine lets out a rattling, held-in breath and refuses to look away from him.

"Yeah?" Kurt asks tentatively.

Blaine flexes his arms, from wrist to shoulder, testing the fabric and the knot. His mouth is flooded with saliva, tongue wetting his lips as his eyes finally drop to the outline of Kurt's cock through his pants and he mutters, "God, yes."

Laughing lightly under his breath, Kurt's thumbs dip under his waistband and he pushes the material down his legs, letting it pool at his feet before he kicks it away. He's naked underneath, pale skin luminescent in the candlelight, cock hard and dark and curving up towards his belly ever so slightly as precome drips down under the head.

Blaine swallows and then Kurt's hands are in his hair, twisting, holding tight as Blaine nuzzles into the touch and lets his eyes flutter closed.

Moving up off his haunches, Blaine spreads his knees a little further, aching between his legs where a throb of need reminds him he can't touch himself. It doesn't matter though, not with Kurt naked and staring at him like that.

"You are…" Kurt trails off and Blaine doesn't know, the crease between his eyes means he doesn't know so Kurt swallows and tries again. "So fucking pretty." And Blaine smiles, self-deprecating, but the lights shift to from yellow to green and Kurt feels his skin tighten just with looking. "Remarkable, gorgeous, beautiful." His fingers trace the lines of Blaine's face again, letting him nuzzle and blink, the feather light whisper of eyelashes on Kurt's palm bewilderingly good. "How did I get this lucky?" Kurt whispers, recognising, at the back of his mind, the ridiculousness of the sentiment, here and now.

Blaine just says, "How did I?"

Muscles and chest and arms all pulled taut as Blaine shifts and blinks his eyes open, Kurt pulling his hand away and making Blaine whine, desperate for something.

Kurt can't wait any longer, can't allow himself to keep watching, to just appreciate the visual when there's so much more and Blaine's right there. Fisting his cock, Kurt is hard and the rough touch is enough to make him groan. This doesn't have to last forever, this just has to be good.

He hooks a thumb easily into Blaine's mouth, soft red lips opening and Blaine's teeth catching as Kurt teases him, one hand on Blaine's chin, one on his own cock, stroking himself, and only letting Blaine taste the skin of his thumb.

"Open for me," he says and as his hand slides out of the way, Blaine's mouth falls open and his eyes fall shut, his face open and turned up towards Kurt.

Stepping forward, closer, Kurt guides his cock onto Blaine's tongue, letting the head rest there, letting the taste of precome spread through the saliva of Blaine's mouth and watching Blaine's eyes dart restlessly behind his eyelids, his eyelashes fanned beautifully against his face.

"Suck me, Blaine," Kurt mumbles, his hands in Blaine's hair as soon as Blaine has closed his mouth and swallowed him deeper, sucking hard and long and working his tongue the best way he knows, making Kurt's thighs shake and his stomach clench. "Fuck."

Blaine goes to town on him, too much build up leaving both of them starving for release as fast as they can find it. Blaine works his mouth up and down and wishes more than once he had a hand to curve around the inches not in his mouth but he doesn't, only the knot of the scarf on his wrists as he struggles, the sparks of pain in his shoulders reminding him again and again.

He licks and sucks, twisting his mouth around the head as Kurt moans above him and tightens his grip in Blaine's hair, pulling him down further until Blaine sucks and breathes deep and then lets his lips slide all the way down.

The hot press of the tip of Kurt's cock at the back of Blaine's throat always takes Blaine to the very edge, the submission in it, the way his breath stutters and stops, caught completely and this is so much more because when Kurt holds deep, making Blaine swallow around every inch of him and suck and lick what he can, Blaine can't place his hands on Kurt's hips and keep some semblance of control of the situation.

He hears Kurt swear above him and his eyes blink open, glassy and wet and staring up to where Kurt is staring down with reverence. Kurt slides out and it's too soon even if Blaine is left coughing lightly while Kurt moans.

"God, look at you," Kurt whispers and this time it's not so much about the shadows the Christmas lights are casting, it's about the spit dripping down Blaine's chin, the transient string of saliva curving between Blaine's bottom lip and the tip of Kurt's cock and just how sucked-wet-hard Kurt's dick is. "Fuck." Kurt grips Blaine's hair and angles his face back, catching the light as it reflects off his blown-dark eyes and he grins.

"More," Blaine asks, his voice already rasping.

Kurt pushes back in, shallowly fucking his mouth, letting Blaine try to suck and lick him deeper before thrusting hard all the way down, lodging deep and feeling Blaine growl and groan and swallow, watching his face relax into the pleasure of it, watching the sheen of sweat on his pulled tight shoulders glimmer.

Pulling back to let Blaine breathe, Kurt doesn't wait long before fucking back in, deep and hard, making sure Blaine's jaw aches and his lips are slowly turning the hot-red of fucked-raw because he knows Blaine gets off on it and god it looks good on him. The way Blaine's eyes blink open and closed, the fan of his eyelashes, so criminally long, fluttering and stunning, drawing Kurt's gaze and making him stare some more.

But he can't hold on, not when Blaine looks like this and only sheer determination is keeping him upright. Not when Blaine is taking him this well. He pulls back again, the coolness of the air on the base of his cock in stark contrast to the hot suck of Blaine's mouth around him, concentrating on the head because it's all Kurt will give him even while Blaine moans and tries to suck more in.

Gasping as Blaine's tongue catches behind the head, Kurt pulls even further back again, wanting to be sure Blaine is okay with his mouth fucked raw and his hands inaccessible, wanting more to see how pretty Blaine's mouth is after being fucked this hard. But before he can ask, Blaine tries to speak, then swallows and tries again. "Come in my mouth," he says, voice wrecked.

Kurt doesn't need to be told twice and slides back in, fucking Blaine's mouth again, knowing he won't last but fucking deep while he still can, taking when he needs and watching Blaine's mouth and eyes and the lines of his body.

Kurt doesn't warn him. It bubbles up easily, quickly, from the base of his spine, spreading out to his toes and his fingertips and resting hot and molten in his stomach, heavy in his balls. Everything tightens and his cock slides back into Blaine's throat, all the way, feeling the heat of Blaine's mouth all around him and tight, tight, squeezing and Kurt's eyes slam closed and he's right there on the edge and Blaine is spread out, ready to catch him.

Except that's not what he wants, he wants to see it, wants to mark Blaine up and watch, and even while his body throbs and time stutters around him with right there, nearly, ohmygod, fuck… Kurt forces his eyes open and down, to Blaine's face, beautiful and his mouth fucked raw and his lips tight around the base of Kurt's buried cock as it pulses and in a second Kurt has pulled back and the slip-slide of Blaine's tight lips along Kurt's cock, the visual of it, big and throbbing and appearing inch by inch from Blaine's tight mouth, pushes Kurt over the edge and he's coming.

He comes in a streak up Blaine's face without meaning to and it feels so fucking good that he can't think beyond how unbelievably hot it is: the throb of his cock as he comes and Blaine's mouth still somehow working hard kisses to the underside, then the tip. He stares down, at Blaine's face angled up, debauched, a mess, his eyes screwed shut and letting Kurt paint his face with come.

Coming hard and long, line after line until his cock aches and he's slipped a hand from Blaine's hair to stroke from the the base and try to work the last of it out of him and onto Blaine's skin. Across a cheek, over his lips, Blaine's tongue daring to dart out and taste, dripping down his chin in the wet mess of spit. Kurt stumbles back, staring. There's a spot in Blaine's hair and a long drip down his stubbled neck, the first line, the starkest, unsmudged from eyebrow to chin. It's in his motherfucking eyelashes.

Kurt wants to keep swearing, wants to let pet-names and compliments and desperate, dirty love drip from his lips but he can't get his brain to connect and then he's swaying, spent and unsteady and leaning forward, catching himself heavily on Blaine's shoulders as Blaine makes a low, whimpering sound and drops back down onto his haunches.

It only takes seconds for Kurt to find himself again, to force the connection and mumble out some incoherent praise. His dick is still half-hard and over-sensitive but it's too close, too easy, to bend a knee and press his cock against the come on Blaine's cheek, rubbing it in and watching with wonderment as Blaine nuzzles into the contact, moaning.

One of the candles flickers and dies as the lights shift to yellow and Blaine draws a deep, shaky breath before kissing at the tip of Kurt's cock and smiling when Kurt gasps and pulls back.

"You okay?" Kurt whispers, still not sure what to do with the mess in front of him but completely not ready to clean it up.

Blaine's eyes move behind his closed eyelids and the drip of come caught in his eyelashes catches the light and shines. Lips curving upwards, into a broader smile, Blaine licks his lips, come sliding across his tongue and into his mouth so he can swallow around it. When he speaks his voice is barely more than a rasp, the wet sound of his lips parting sinful. "That was unexpected."

"You just looked so fucking pretty," Kurt has to say again, his hands hovering, wondering where to touch to not destroy the vision in front of him. "I know I keep saying that but Jesus Christ Blaine you are gorgeous with these lights." What he's saying doesn't do reality even a wisp of justice.

"So you had to ruin me?" Blaine asks, chin dipping a little until Kurt catches it with a finger and angles his face back up. "God I must look a mess."

Blaine's eyelashes flutter, still wet, clumping, so thick and long and perfect. He doesn't open his eyes yet and so his lashes stay fanned across the hot red blush rising in his cheeks. His chest shifts as he breathes and chuckles, muscles flexing and his arms moving to emphasise the fact that his hands are still bound behind his back

"You have no idea," Kurt tells him, eyes dropping, finally, to where Blaine is still hard in his pants, precome staining through in a wet spot. "So not a mess."

They pause and the room descends into the sound of the streets outside and them. Kurt still can't look away, can't get his breath to slow and even out. He wonders how long he'll be stuck like this.

"Can you, um," Blaine's eyelashes flutter again. "I don't want to open my eyes."

It takes a second for Kurt to hear him and then another for it to make sense. "Shit," Kurt says as the spell is broken. "Does it hurt?"

"No," Blaine says, laughing at Kurt's concern. "But…" he squeezes his eyes tight and then relaxes and he must be able to feel the streak of come smudging on his eyelid, it still thick in his eyelashes. "I think if I open them it will."

Kurt drops down to his knees instantly, the wood hard beneath him but he doesn't care. He reaches for Blaine, hands gentle and easy, cradling his face and tilting him so he can see the mess the best. He swipes a thumb smoothly across Blaine's closed eye, sliding the come away and not pausing until it's halfway to his own mouth, the automatic reaction far too ingrained.

He changes his mind, then, and slides his thumb over Blaine's lips and then inside as Blaine's mouth falls open and he licks. Closed and then sucks and moans around it.

"Good boy," Kurt murmurs, a hand petting over Blaine's shoulder. There's still moisture everywhere, come and spit and sweat.

Kurt slides his thumb back over Blaine's closed eyes and then says, "It's in your eyelashes."

Which makes Blaine's eyelids flutter, his eyelashes shifting, clumped thickly together now with the little that's left. "Don't open you eyes baby," Kurt tells him and Blaine squeezes them shut in response.

Leaning in, Kurt kisses the arch of Blaine's cheekbone, lips open and tasting, tongue flicking out dirtily and making Blaine rock slightly. Kurt kisses higher, sure he can feel the flutter of eyelashes against his skin and he kisses inch by inch across and then down, licking openly at the most obvious streaks, sucking when he gets to the roughness of Blaine's jaw.

His fingers work at the other side, absent-mindedly pressing, rubbing the come into Blaine's skin, dipping across to feed the worst of it back into Blaine's mouth before Kurt's lips find him and he kisses him hard and deep with a growl.

He traces the bone under Blaine's eyebrow with his fingertips and slides back. "Okay, you should be fine," Kurt tells him.

Blaine blinks his eyes open slowly, feeling his face still sticky, possibly worse off for Kurt's kisses and licks, and his eyelashes clumped and sticking. Kurt is right there, inches from his face, staring with pupils so big that the blue of his irises is impossibly bright.

"You enjoying yourself?" Blaine teases.

Kurt chooses not to respond, just darting in for another open-mouthed, too-wet kiss, licking into Blaine's mouth and behind his teeth and then dragging Blaine's head back by the hair to suck at his neck where the taste of his own come is till strong.

"You're so fucking pretty like this," Kurt groans out, watching as that shadows of Blaine's stubble change.

"You said," Blaine laughs and so Kurt kisses him some more. Kisses him hard and then soft, deep and teasing and then chaste. His cheeks, his chin, his mouth. Nuzzles at his hairline and licks at his temples and then back down to his neck. Kurt kisses him until he's moaning too loudly and struggling with the scarf still binding his hands.

And then Kurt kisses him some more, kisses his wet, well-fucked face until Blaine calls his name and begs. "Please, Kurt, oh god, Please."

Kurt kisses him, absurdly heated and dirty, Blaine coming undone under his hands and mouth and Blaine has never felt more glorified or loved and it's so superficial, for it to be about the way he looks under Christmas lights. To be about the way he looks come-messed with his mouth fucked raw, but that doesn't matter. Not when they love each other like this. Blaine is so hard and so turned on and saying, "Jesus, Kurt, baby, please, Kurt just touch me." Kurt bites at Blaine's jaw and Blaine gasps, hips fucking up into nothing. He stutters uselessly, "Touch me, tou—touch, please, Kurt, oh god, please."

Kurt pulls back and looks, one last time before he finds Blaine's mouth and kisses him again, biting his lip hard and then sucking at it. He reaches down between them and Blaine whimpers uselessly at the hint of contact as Kurt's fingers brush across his belly. Shushing him against his lips, Kurt finds Blaine's cock hard and throbbing in his hand as he wraps his fingers around it through Blaine's sweatpants and squeezes.

He strokes and Blaine arches up onto his knees, bucking and mewling and Kurt going with him, stroking again and then Blaine is coming so fast it shocks Kurt into laughing, his stroke faltering for a second as Blaine's head falls back and he moans, fucking up into Kurt's hand. And then Kurt works him through it, stroking as best he can through the material while Blaine twists and rocks and spills hot in his pants. He watches as Blaine's hips work and his body pulses, Blaine there on his knees with his wrecked face and his shoulders still pulled taut and back by the scarf.

When Blaine is finally done, breathing raggedly, he teeters for a second and then collapses heavily onto his side, cheek pressed into the coolness of the floorboards for relief. "Fuck," he mumbles, a blush rising as he continues to struggle with the scarf. "Fuck."

Kurt just giggles and rubs the back of a hand over his mouth and then pushes his hair up and out of his eyes. He pulls Blaine's sweatpants down and off, still smiling to himself, chewing on his bottom lip as he watches Blaine's cock bob free, beginning to soften between his legs, come dribbled across his hip. Kurt can't stop himself from swiping this thumb through the mess and then sucking it past his lips, savouring the difference in taste between himself and Blaine.

Blaine whines beneath him, mumbling out "Wow," a curse, and then Kurt's name. Another candle hisses as it runs out of wick and dies before Blaine asks, "You gonna untie me now?"

Kurt snickers and lets his fingers tickle up Blaine's side, watching Blaine's whole body shake and twist reflexively to get away. "Maybe."

Blaine twists and shuffles further around to glare at him. "Kurt," he says warningly but Kurt just keeps grinning. Naked and starting to feel a bit ridiculous, Blaine pulls himself back up onto his knees with some difficulty. "Every second you leave me tied up, know that I will get you back for it one day," he threatens.

Arching an eyebrow, Kurt's voice drops and he leans in close, smiling hard when Blaine's shoulders flex with wanting to reach out and grab. "Oh, I hope so." And then he darts in for one last, well-fucked kiss. "Merry Christmas, Blaine."