A/N: Sequel to Freaking Amazing. Title comes from 'I Will Not Take These Things For Granted' by Toad The Wet Sprocket, because my fluffy little story started writing itself and went all angsty on me with a tiny dash of song fic. WTH?

Rating: NC-17 (M/M, T!B)

Warnings: Language, sex, mild bondage, more language, more sex, etc.

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Glee, or Toad the Wet Sprocket, but if I'm ever a big Hollywood producer I promise to hire CC for everything I make. Ever. And there'll be a shirtless requirement clause in his contract. You're welcome.

Blaine had become a legend almost overnight, and he found it completely ridiculous. A little funny maybe, kind of pathetic, and ridiculous. He didn't let it show, just smiled and nodded at the punches on the arm, the fist pumps, the looks from random guys in the halls. They didn't understand. No one did. No one needed to.

When he walked into the practice room that afternoon, Wes and Thad clapped. They actually clapped. It was all he could do not to turn around and walk back out. Within seconds the whole room had broken out into cat-calls, whoops of laughter and a brief round of applause. He laughed it off because, well, the alternative was to leave. So he bit his tongue and took a seat on one of the couches.

It was a week since they 'finally got together!' as Thad phrased it. One of the best weeks in modern history, if you asked Blaine, slaps on the butt notwithstanding. He was in love. So totally, deliriously in love he couldn't have been happier if Tom Felton and Daniel Radcliffe had walked into the choir room at that moment holding hands and asked him to sing at their wedding. And how AWESOME would that be? But no. No, even if his wizardly idols didn't hook up - which would be a travesty of epic proportions - he'd still be deliriously happy. And now he had 'Delirious' stuck in his head. He hummed, wondering if the guys would want to add some classic Prince to the set list. Meh. Doubtful.

The humming stopped abruptly when he felt a curious prickling on the back of his neck and turned toward the door, knowing he was nearby. His body sensed it. That would take some getting used to. The room quieted when his attention suddenly shifted. Or maybe it didn't. Because that would be weird, right? Maybe his fogged brain had just blocked out the background noise. He didn't look around to find out.

He took a deep breath when Kurt entered the room, every muscle in his body going tense even as he made a concerted effort to look relaxed. That had to be an oxymoron - forced relaxation - but he was already getting good at it. The fact that his insides were melting into goo was between him and his boyfriend. It was not between him, his boyfriend and fourteen avid observers.

As he walked in, Kurt felt all his pent-up, restless energy sharpen, homing in one direction. There he was, sitting in his usual spot, watching the door like he'd been waiting, and looking more handsome than anyone had a right to. It was only a few hours since they'd seen each other in the dorm room, Blaine pressing him against the door for one more kiss before they had to go, mouths and bodies grinding together...

The lonely, sometimes awkward young daydreamer had changed dramatically in the short span of his new relationship status. His supple body moved with a new sensuality that even the shapeless Dalton blazer couldn't hide. He radiated satisfaction, turning heads with the perpetual private smile curving his lips and the haze of remembered pleasures softening his eyes. His classmates, those in the know, felt somehow superior as they enlightened the other 'kids' by whispering the name for his new look. Post-orgasmic.

At rehearsals Kurt's performances were noticeably more - mature. Unconsciously seductive moves, smoldering eyes and a singing voice that could suddenly turn husky or breathy all added a contagious sexiness to the group. The Warblers loved their new style and unanimously gave Blaine the credit, hence the applause. They couldn't applaud for Kurt. He was in his own little world, seemingly unaware of the changes happening around him.

Thad suggested Blaine start charging for advice, open up a sex tip hotline on campus. He even generously offered to manage the details - for a reasonable cut and free tips. Because, according to Thad, if Blaine could untie the knots from the panties of prim and proper Hummel, he must be some kind of sex genius. A veritable Don Juan right in their midst!

Ridiculous.

Blaine watched the gorgeous countertenor head straight for him, oblivious to the looks that followed. Blue eyes darkened, filling with heat as they swept over him, making his toes curl in his shoes. He'd have to explain to Kurt about the forced relaxation concept. Maybe mention the avid observers. He held out his hand with a warm smile. Their fingers intertwined as Kurt lowered himself to the couch with fluid grace, sitting close enough for their arms and thighs to touch lightly.

The whole room seemed to move at once, everyone returning to conversations put on hold. David tugged at his collar and looked away. Nick and Jeff pulled out their phones to text their girlfriends, making plans for the weekend.

Kurt glanced toward the front to see if the council was ready to start, but it looked like they still had some time. When he turned back, his expression had cleared. Blaine briefly wondered if it was deliberate, or if Kurt wasn't even aware he was doing it. Either way, it was easier to breathe again now that the 'fuck me' look was toned down. He gave him a soft kiss - suitable for public viewing.

"Hi," Kurt said, blushing. He still wasn't used to Blaine kissing him in front of people. Or anyone kissing him really. Anywhere. For any reason. He fought the urge to giggle.

Blaine marveled at the maze of contradictions that made his boyfriend the fascinating creature he was. He spoke quietly. "Hey, Sweetheart. I missed you." His chin lowered so he could look up at Kurt with a hint of his own inappropriate eye speak.

Kurt's face glowed. "You saw me less than three hours ago."

"That long? No wonder I was starting to suffer withdrawals," he joked flirtatiously, clutching his chest. Sure, it was a lame attempt at flirting, but the lameness made Kurt smile.

"Tsk," he clucked his tongue and lightly slapped Blaine's arm. "Don't talk nonsense. You're the one who said we can't spend the rest of our lives in bed."

"I'm an idiot."

Kurt's melodic laughter floated through the room as he recalled Blaine saying something very similar a week ago. "I know."

"Blaine," Wes called from the desk, waving their lead soloist over. He squeezed Kurt's hand and got up. The lovestruck teen watched him walk away, still smiling about their first night together, and remembering the next morning...

He woke up early, even though he'd hardly slept at all. He was still enveloped in Blaine's arms and it was the most wonderful feeling imaginable. He watched him sleep, memorizing his face. Memorizing the moment so he could relive it a thousand times.

When he tried to extricate himself, Blaine grunted and tightened his hold. Kurt gently kissed his forehead and felt him relax, the grip loosening enough for him to slip out of bed.

He freshened up with the travel-size products he always kept in his messenger bag, then quietly crawled back between the sheets. He didn't want Blaine to wake up and find him gone. After a few minutes he gave up trying to get back to sleep and his lips began to graze slowly across his lover's skin - bicep, shoulder, the side of his chest - anywhere within reach.

He hadn't reached very far yet when the warm body rolled toward him, an arm wrapping around to pull him close, tucking him under his chin. From his new position Kurt was able to touch his lips to his boyfriend's throat and along his jaw. He heard a sigh and the hand on his back began to rub in slow circles.

"Mmmm. I want to wake up like this every day," Blaine murmured, kissing Kurt's hair.

"I like that idea," he agreed between kisses. "Alarm clocks are overrated."

"Mm-hmm."

"Did you sleep well?"

He smiled when Kurt's teeth nibbled on his chin, making tiny scrapes against the stubble, "I don't think I've ever felt so relaxed before. Must have been the back-rub that did it."

Kurt poked him in the ribs. "The back-rub," he scoffed. "Could be because you were trying to set a record for number of orgasms in one night."

"I did break my own personal record," he bragged.

Kurt watched the play of muscles as the other teen stretched, yawning, before he kissed his hair again and climbed over him to head to the bathroom. A couple of minutes later he heard the shower start and he was overcome by the hominess of it all. Elation bubbled up inside him and he flung his arms out to the sides, kicking his feet against the mattress and squealing with delight. He rolled toward the other side of the pillow and inhaled. He wanted to breeeathe Blaine, fill his lungs with essence of Blaine. A perfectly normal urge for someone in his situation. Probably. He clutched the pillow to his face and began to roll on his back from side to side, laughing joyfully into the cushion.

"Um. What are you doing, Sweetie?"

"Basking," came the giggling, muffled reply.

"Basking?"

Flipping the pillow off of his face to hug to his chest, he confirmed in a clearer voice, "Yes. I'm basking! Luxuriating! I think this is the afterglow I've heard about. Or aftermath? No, afterglow. Whatever. Here it is."

"It suits you."

"Thank you!" he beamed up at his splendidly naked boyfriend. Boyfriend! "You are so smexy!" He convulsed in another uncontrollable fit of giggles.

Blaine pressed his lips together and raised a fist to his mouth to keep from laughing at his boyfriend's drunken display of happiness. "Okay, Babe. No caffeine for you today. Come on." He pulled him to his feet and into his embrace.

Kurt threw his arms around Blaine's neck and gave him another brilliant smile, his eyes shining. "I love you!"

"I love you too," Blaine laughed in spite of himself and captured his mouth.

Kurt sank into the kiss, automatically reaching up and pushing his hands into the beloved hair he'd dedicated an inordinate amount of time to tousling the night before. Checking his handiwork, he found that Blaine's hair was an unruly mass of short curls pointing in every direction. "I was right," he said, smugness written all over his face.

"About what?" Blaine asked, dipping his head to kiss along Kurt's jaw.

"A night of hot, sweaty sex brings out the curl in your hair." Kurt twirled a couple of fingers in the riotous tangles.

He chuckled. "That's the best styling technique I've ever heard of."

"I'm glad you like it. We'll be styling the royal bejeezus out of your hair on a regular basis. Now come on. We're wasting water." He tugged Blaine toward the shower.

They stepped under the warm spray and spent the next few minutes rubbing soapy hands everywhere, standing chest to chest to wash each other's backs and shampoo each other's hair, kissing languidly.

Blaine turned Kurt under the water to rinse and began to examine the bruises marring his beautiful skin, kissing each one to make it better. He frowned at the distinct hand prints on his shoulders and found purple marks under the curves of his ass. Blaine squatted down behind him and pressed his lips softly to the bruises. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Guilt edged his voice.

Kurt was enjoying the water running down his front and the petting and kissing from behind. "Hmm? That doesn't hurt. You can do it again if you want."

Blaine kissed him again. "I meant these bruises from last night."

"Where?" He twisted around but wasn't able to get a very good look at that particular location. "Well, don't worry. I bruise easily, but I'm used to it by now. And I like your medicine," he smiled coyly over his shoulder.

"You've got them all over the place." He stood and turned Kurt to face him, touching the hickey on his pelvis with a smile. "This one was on purpose."

"Just try not to leave them where they're too obvious and you can do that anytime you like."

Blaine yanked him to his chest, making the other boy squeak in surprise. "I will," he snarled against his wet, silky throat, sending shivers down Kurt's spine. Blaine reached down and palmed his boyfriend's half-erect cock, feeling it harden immediately, and gently bit down on the strong tendon of his neck. He'd never have guessed himself to be a biter, but something about this boy made him feel primal.

Pleasure tingled through Kurt's body and he reached out blindly, sliding a hand down Blaine's torso to grasp him in a slippery fist. They stroked each other, trailing wet kisses over necks and shoulders, kneading bottoms and scratching backs with their free hands until they were too caught up in the sensations to concentrate on anything more than holding each other.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, his breath quickening. He felt the orgasm building inside him, like a spring being wound tighter and tighter, waiting for release.

"You're so sexy. So perfect," Blaine breathed into his ear. "Come for me. I want to watch you."

A sigh escaped Kurt at his words. "Kiss me. Please, Blaine."

He placed tiny sucking kisses along Kurt's lips and slowly licked between them. Their tongues met, caressing each other, and Blaine kissed him deeply, swallowing his moans. His strong arm wrapped more tightly around the slender boy, supporting him when his legs started to waver.

Kurt broke away, gasping. "I'm - I'm close -"

Their foreheads dropped together, both boys looking down. Watching that strong, bronzed hand stroke him was too much for Kurt and he fell apart, release shooting through him into the air to land on them both. Blaine panted Kurt's name at the sight of him coming and his boyfriend's long fingers worked faster, gripping, twisting and pumping Blaine through his orgasm. Pearly white strands mixed together on their bodies and hands as they held each other, letting the water rinse them clean.

Blaine and the council talked over the two songs they planned to rehearse that day. They had a new one to work on, so they'd start with background harmonies. He was offering his opinions on how the group could best back him up when he noticed David's attention waning, his eyes flicking off to the side and a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Blaine looked over his shoulder curiously.

His boyfriend was sitting right where he'd left him, turned in their direction, but the look on his face said he was a million miles away. Or at least a few hundred yards away, in another room at Dalton. He was flushed, his chest heaving, eyes hooded and glazed. Blaine knew that look.

Holy hellinahandbasket. "Excuse me, guys," he apologized vaguely without bothering to look back and hurried across the room to put a stop to what was about to become an even more absurdly inappropriate scene. When he reached the couch he picked up the messenger bag from beside his boyfriend, and casually (he hoped) put it in Kurt's lap as he sat down in its place. "Kurt?"

His head turned naturally toward the sound of his lover's voice, but his eyes were unfocused, gazing inward.

Fuck. I have to snap him out of it. "Hey, Sweetheart. We're about to get started."

"Shower," he said softly, his eyes slowly closing.

"Sure, we can do that later. First we have practice, remember?" Kurt frowned slightly. Blaine tried a more drastic change of subject. "How's the glee club doing over at McKinley?" he ventured. "I hope Mercedes is getting the solos she deserves. She's amazing." If the tiny pout on his lips was any indication, Kurt was reluctantly coming back to the present. "I wonder if Rachel still has that sweater she was wearing when I met her, the one with a big owl on it."

Kurt cringed as if he'd just bitten into something nasty, and opened his eyes. "What?"

Blaine grinned, seeing his adorable fashionista come charging to the front lines ready to do battle, innate taste pushing aside whatever daydreams had caused the dazed expression and tented pants.

Kurt's eyes narrowed on his boyfriend's amused face. "That sweater, like most of her questionable wardrobe, is a crime against fashion," he lectured, looking outraged that someone would even mention such a clothing faux pas.

"It's hideous, but it somehow works for her personality."

"Yes. Well. I suppose that's true," he acknowledged, smoothing his hair.

"Are you ready for practice?"

Confusion flickered across his delicate features. "Of course. I've been sitting here waiting for you."

Blaine dropped his eyes pointedly to the bag in Kurt's lap. He looked down, frowning again. He didn't remember putting that there. A split second later it dawned on him why it was there and he blushed. Embarrassment quickly caused his problem to wilt as he glanced covertly around the room, relieved to find no one looking in his direction. "I was – ah – just remembering something," he explained quietly.

"You can show me later," Blaine replied with a wink and stood up, holding out a hand to help him to his feet.

The embarrassment factor helped Kurt to keep his mind clear of naughty, naked boyfriend images - for the most part - throughout rehearsal.

Blaine... not so much.