A/N: Just another drabble that was uploaded to tumblr a long time ago and is now here. You know the drill, people.

Sam Evans had always thought of sex as something that just happened. Yeah, it felt pretty great and he thought about it, like, a lot. But he had seen it as another part of life. A really awesome part of life, but conventional nonetheless.

At some point over the past year, all of this changed. Sex was no longer just a rare occurrence of sweat and gasping breaths and momentary rapture. It was a whole new realm of feeling. To put it simply, sex with Blaine was an addiction. Every hidden moment they shared – every secret kiss, every illicit touch – seemed to set Sam's insides on fire.

When the two were alone, they were detached from their everyday lives. Their pending homework assignments, incoming text messages and imminent curfews became insignificant matter. All they knew was each other. Sam saw only Blaine's body, felt only Blaine's touch. In this new world, they were different people.

He devoted their stolen moments together to worshipping every part of his lover's body. He memorised the curve of Blaine's stomach with his lips. He measured the light black hair on his thigh with ardent fingers. He caressed every inch of skin, learning how the perfect boy beneath him reacted to any and every touch. The next morning, however, it would all be a blur. It was as if their clandestine world's memory was reset after each tryst, so that their next encounter would be just as new and exciting.

He couldn't help but think – no; hope – that he was the only one who would see Blaine like this. Sam no longer knew him as the polite, cheery boy who sometimes got too excited over assignments for Glee Club. He was someone else entirely. He was kind, yet demanding. Something about the self he had unlocked allowed him to know exactly what he wanted from this pseudo-relationship of theirs and Sam was more than happy to oblige. How could he not? Blaine was his drug. It was as if he had this power over Sam; as soon as their skin made contact, Sam would do anything in his power to please him.

Blaine affected him in a way no other person had before. Sure, Sam liked to date confident (some would say bossy) people, but he had always expected to be the one in control when it came to sex. This, however… Well, this wasn't dating. Truthfully, Sam didn't have a clue what the fuck this was.

A warm June evening found them lying on Sam's bed (in the guest room of the Hummel-Hudson house, of which every other room was currently empty), fingers sewn together as blue eyes stared longingly into cocoa. Blaine smelled of chlorine – he had been swimming. Blaine didn't mention this, nor did Sam. They never talked about their time spent apart. They never talked much at all. They whispered, and moaned, and instructed, and begged. But they didn't talk.

A smile came across Blaine's face and he shuffled closer to the other boy. He pressed his lips briefly to Sam's. The kiss was brief, simple. Then his mouth was at Sam's ear and he was whispering something sweet yet obscene (a feat only Blaine could achieve). Sam never really remembered the words Blaine spoke; only the effect they had on him.

Blaine was pulling both of them to their feet then, bringing their lips together and tasting Sam's need for more. He smiled again, that perfect smile he reserved for Sam, and murmured gentle directions as the taller boy slumped eagerly to his knees. Sam gazed upwards at Blaine's quickly flushing face while he fumbled with the button of the familiar red jeans. (They smelled of detergent and coffee and Blaine.) The dark-haired boy was still smiling, though his eyes were shut tight now, breathing growing heavy as his fingers combed through thick blonde hair.

"Sam," Blaine whispered. That was all he had to say. He moaned as the boy before him took hold of his cock and began sucking slowly on the head. Sam revelled in the taste he had been craving, his eyes fluttering shut. His tongue slipped forward to lick at Blaine's slit slowly, always slowly. He would make this last as long as he possibly could. Both boys groaned quietly as Sam's lips pushed forward, taking Blaine's cock into his mouth inch by inch as his hand drifted to stroke over his perineum.

Sam was almost scared of how comfortable he was kneeling before another boy, how easily he understood what to do. He relished the feeling that accompanied sucking Blaine off. He felt so needed – submissive, yet so important. Honestly, the greatest thrill came from being under Blaine's command. With Blaine's hands fisted in his hair, urging him to take his cock further into his throat, Sam was in heaven.

More moaning, tasting, hands tugging at hair and then they were back on the bed, staring longingly into each other's eyes as clothes were tossed aside and skin was traced and kissed and bitten. Sam hovered over Blaine, vaguely registering the sound of the lube bottle being knocked to the floor by one of the smaller boy's legs, which were spread wide across the too-soft sheets. Their lips slid together intuitively while Sam thrust his fingers into Blaine. All efforts to drag out their time together had been dropped. Blaine rolled a condom onto Sam's reddening cock and Sam used what lube was left on his hand to prepare himself.

A few more seconds of repositioning and Blaine's pants of "please", "need you", "now, please" and Sam was plunging forward into overwhelming tightness. There was no waiting for their bodies to adjust – they needed each other right now. Blaine was already pushing back onto his cock and moaning – "More, Sam, shit, more".

They moved together desperately, as if the only thing keeping them alive was the connection of their two bodies. Blaine's legs wrapped themselves tightly around Sam's back, his hands clutching at Sam's shoulders. Their breathing was loud and heavy now, their lips colliding hungrily and then pulling back to gasp for air.

Sam could feel the heat building underneath his skin. The room around them shifted and spun. He reached one hand down to jerk Blaine off in erratic flicks and twists as he fucked harder into him. He was just barely aware of his own intensifying groans. All he could hear was Blaine, grunting and moaning, crying out in ecstasy each time Sam's cock slammed against his prostate.

It ended too intensely and too soon. They came together, obscenities spilling from Sam's lips as Blaine screamed his name, then collapsed side by side on the bed. Blaine's hand found its counterpart and for a while the two boys simply lay there, listening to each other's breathing as it relaxed and slowed.

It was beginning to grow dark outside the dimly-lit room when Blaine's hand left Sam's. The smaller boy sat up, stretched, turned away, stood up, dressed himself. He didn't check his phone. He always waited until after he had left.

The "after" feeling was already starting to sneak into Sam's mind. He was going to be alone again. He was exposed. He pulled the sheets up to his chest in an attempt to keep the numbness out, not yet ready to come down from the high.

"Blaine?" he called out, his voice hoarse.

Blaine turned to face him, doing up the last few buttons of his cardigan. "Yes?"

Sam's mouth fluttered open and shut a few times. He looked at Blaine's face. The glimmer in his eyes was fading. He was better at this than Sam. He could go back to his normal life without pain or loneliness or desperation to remember every second of their time together. He could go back to

"Um… Nothing."

A beat. Then, "Okay. I'll see you at school, then", and he made to leave.

"Wait."

Blaine stopped.

"Can't you stay a while?" Sam asked quietly, already knowing what the answer would be.

Blaine sighed. He said nothing, just shook his head. Sam nodded his.

Then Blaine was gone. Sam lay naked on his bed for hours, staring at the shadows on the ceiling and praying that the next time would arrive soon.