"I'm pretty sure… if we pant a little louder… New Jersey will hear us," Kurt rasps, barely having enough energy to slide the door closed before he flops down onto the couch. "Remind me, honey, why… is exercise… a thing?"
Blaine doesn't sit next to him. He doesn't sit at all. He isn't even standing still.
"God, that was amazing. Just when I think I'm used to being here, when I think I'm over New York, God that view-" Blaine says, barely stopping for breath, still jogging on the damn spot, "it'll never get old. I'll never stop being amazed by this city and the fact that I live here and that I live here with you, that I can just kiss you in the street and nobody cares-"
"Blaine, not that this isn't just delightful, but what are you talking about? How are you still going?"
"Can't stop, Kurt, too much adrenaline-"
"Well, it's a good job you didn't try and kiss me this morning; I'm so sweaty you probably would've slid right off me."
Only then does Blaine stop jogging so vigorously, still shifting a little from one foot to the other, but now he's distracted by the loose-limbed, harsh-breathing form that's seconds away from creating a damp Kurt-shaped patch on the sofa.
"Huh."
Kurt raises an eyebrow at Blaine, too exhausted to do any more than that. Luckily, he's a master at conveying maximum judgement with minimal movement.
"'Huh' what?"
"Nothing," Blaine finally stops jogging and starts to stretch, innocently enough until he runs a hand through his damp hair, flexing a bicep and letting his already tight t-shirt ride up over his stomach. "I guess with all the endorphins and the dawn skyline, I forgot that my favourite view in the whole world was running alongside me the whole time."
He leans to one side, arm stretched over his head. Kurt rolls his eyes, having to shove his face into the cushions to hide the grin plastered across his face. Blood's still pumping through his ears and he's dizzy, and if he makes eye contact with Blaine he knows he'll dissolve into giggles. He's not sure his muscles can take the strain right now.
"That's very sweet of you, but-"
He turns his head so his voice isn't muffled, but it's not Blaine's eyes he ends up making contact with. Blaine's decided to move onto lunges, and with one fingertip dipping just past the hem of his shorts as his hand rests on his just-exposed hip, Kurt is confronted by glistening skin, meaty, muscular thighs, and a very noticeable bulge just inches away from his face.
"But what?" Blaine asks, as if butter wouldn't melt under his gaze alone, which Kurt knows to be a lie.
"Are you serious? You actually have energy left for that?"
"Always," he says with a wink, switching his legs and presenting Kurt with his ass instead of his crotch.
"Blaine, are you seriously presenting your hindquarters to me? Are you part baboon?"
"I guess you bring out my more primal instincts."
Kurt groans and closes his eyes. He can't deny the fact that Blaine's preposterous ritual is working, and he can't afford the uneven blood distribution right now.
"Kudos on the banter, honey. I can't even feel my legs."
"I guess I'll have to feel them for you."
Eyes still closed, Kurt frowns.
"What? Blaine, that doesn't make any se- woah!"
He feels a dip in the sofa as Blaine jumps between his legs, firm hands massaging his thighs, and leans down to kiss him and starts hungrily mouthing at his neck.
"Don't care. So hot."
"This isn't the – oh – good kind of hot, Blaine, I'm gross-"
"Nope. Sexy. So sexy," he licks the sweat from his jaw, "God, Kurt, you look so good-"
Kurt's a little mystified as to how the hell his boyfriend can still breathe, never mind do this, but has no intention of complaining.
After all, it's dangerous to work out without warming down afterwards.
He gasps when he feels Blaine grind against him – is he hard already?
"Fuck, Blaine, you must be some kind of robot. You can tell me. I won't leave you. I'll even help you with – huhh - maintenance."
"S'not me, Kurt. It's all you," he gasps, rocking into him again as he eagerly pushes Kurt's tank top up his chest, exposing his nipples and making him shiver. "Need this off, like, now-" he growls into Kurt's shoulder, sucking at the skin and getting in his own way while he keeps trying to tug Kurt's shirt off.
Kurt laughs and puts his hand over Blaine's face so he can push him away long enough to do it for him. Blaine starts giggling too, figuring now that there's a distance between them he might as well kill two birds with one stone. He kneels up and shifts back so he can slip Kurt's shorts down over his hips. He taps Kurt's thigh, a casual hint for him to lift himself up for a second to get them off completely, but Kurt just laughs more.
"I can't. I really can't do anything."
Blaine pouts.
"So I have to do all the work?"
Kurt raises an eyebrow.
"So… I'm completely at your mercy, sweetheart."
Blaine takes a second to take that in, exhaling harshly, before grinning and diving back down to kiss Kurt again. Undressing him can wait - apparently, he thinks to himself, Kurt has no choice. Obviously he's more than willing, but his body is so loose and pliant, Blaine's being completely entrusted to take care of him and it only sends more adrenaline coursing through his veins.
As they kiss, he lifts Kurt's legs, pulling back so he can raise them right up and rest them on his shoulder as he eases the fabric over his knees and tosses the shorts on the floor, quickly followed by sneakers and socks. He squeezes Kurt's thighs, rubbing firm strokes over the muscle and pushing against them to stretch them properly. Kurt groans and pushes his head back into the cushions. They're pretty standard stretches, but the burn sends something through him, and Blaine's hands are so broad and manipulating him so easily – he's naked now, laid bare for Blaine to ravish, and it's not just exhaustion turning his bones to jelly.
Blaine takes a greedy handful of Kurt's ass, so pale and soft and so shamelessly exposed for him, before nudging his legs up so he can run a finger between his cheeks. Thanks to the sweat and the exhausted muscles there's no resistance, and Kurt almost howls when he feels Blaine's fingertip brushing over his entrance.
"God, Blaine, I- lube, we don't have, I don't want you to leave-"
Blaine carefully lowers Kurt's legs to his sides, gripping one thigh to his waist while the other hangs over the side of the sofa. He leans forward, grinding his still-clothed crotch against Kurt's cock, flushed and exposed and already hard, settling his weight over him.
"No need," he grins into Kurt's mouth, kissing him while reaching under the cushions to produce an almost-new tube as if by magic. "Not my first rodeo, babe."
"If you make a pun about riding me, I swear to God-"
Blaine just laughs again and kisses him, and all notions of protest fly out of Kurt's mind as he feels a cold, lubricated finger circling his rim. Kurt claws at his shoulder frantically.
"Jesus, fuckfuckfuckBlaineit'scold-"
Blaine grins. It's wicked.
"You said you were too hot. I'm trying to cool you down."
Kurt simply writhes under him, the contrast between his burning skin and the icy finger pressing into him almost too much to take.
"More, Blaine, more-more-faster-please-"
Blaine frowns a little, always wary of hurting Kurt even when he's begging him, but Kurt cups his jaw clumsily and whispers, "Blaine. Want it. Stretch. Please." before kissing him again, hips jerking as Blaine starts fucking into him shallowly with two fingers. Kurt's leg, still hanging over the edge of the sofa, shakes with every quick thrust, the muscles of Kurt's thighs contracting occasionally as he tries and fails to gain some control over his body. As Blaine presses in with a third finger, he stops trying and gives in to the sensation of being stretched, both by Blaine's fingers inside him and Blaine's hand pushing his leg up, sending a burning ache through his thigh.
"God, Kurt, God, I- fuck-"
"Now, Blaine, please- ready now- can't- close-"
Blaine doesn't need to be told twice, and he shoves his shorts over his hips just enough to pull his cock out. Kurt's naked enough for both of them and he doesn't want to move away from him if he doesn't have to. Besides, still being technically dressed while Kurt's sprawled out under him, flushed and sweating and moaning like a damn porn star, just makes everything seem a little bit filthier. Blaine's a gentleman, but he's also a teenager. He settles down close to Kurt again as he coats himself in lube. This is all so familiar now; they're so intimately aware of each other's bodies and limitations, but Blaine still nudges Kurt's nose with his own for reassurance that he's ready. Kurt locks eyes with him and nods, and Blaine kisses him deeply as he presses all the way in.
At first he just pushes Kurt down onto the sofa, but he quickly builds speed and Kurt's hips start to lift off the couch with every thrust. Blaine plants one foot on the floor, picking up the dead weight of Kurt's leg and propping it up with his thigh so their hips lock together. The way Kurt's whole body moves entirely in time with Blaine's, the way his eyes keep falling closed as if focusing is impossible, the way he just opens up underneath him, swearing and rasping and "oh God oh God Blaine yes God God I'm fucking- yes I'm gonna fuck fuck please so good-" it's all too much. Blaine keeps pumping into Kurt, sucking at the blush that's spread down to his collar bone, and Kurt starts to tremble.
"Please, Blaine, please I'm gonna-"
Blaine kisses him all over, licking at his jaw and shoulder and cheek.
"S'okay, Kurt, I've got you- it's okay-"
It's all Kurt needs to let go and he does, shooting thick lines of come between them and reaching down to dig his nails into Blaine's ass, pulling him in as far and hard as possible. Blaine feels Kurt clench around him and pant into his mouth and sees his blown pupils and parted lips and he stills, hips pressed right against Kurt's, embedded inside him, and his head slumps down against Kurt's chest as he comes. He can feel Kurt's hands petting through his hair, stroking his back as he comes down, and Kurt's heart races next to his ear.
They both fall asleep, Blaine's softening cock still lodged comfortably in Kurt's ass. They wake up to pillows thrown at their heads and wince when they pull apart, still sensitive. They sit up, blinking the sleep from their eyes, and frantically try to cover themselves up when they see Santana bombarding them with all the soft furnishings in the apartment.
"I've told you a million times!" Santana yelled. "No! Jizz! In the living room!"
They probably should have felt bad, but they both smirked at the idea of jumping in the shower to get cleaned up together.