"Oh god—" Blaine can't think straight, he really can't, and he has no idea how anyone could expect him to. "Kurt, fuck, Kurt, you gotta move…stop…You gotta go." Oh god, shut up! What is he even saying?

Kurt pulls back, balancing on all fours and Blaine's whole body rises up to follow the heavy press of him and the heat of his mouth. "Soon," he mumbles, eyes bright blue and lips curled up in a grin.

Then he slides down a little and the rough drag of cotton and denim against Blaine's over-sensitive, completely naked skin edges on painful but Kurt's mouth sucking over a nipple, teeth scratching down his ribs and then sucking again at the dip at the bottom makes Blaine moan and arch and feel nothing but good.

Blaine's hands twist in Kurt's hair for a moment before Kurt's teeth nip harshly at the skin beside Blaine's belly button and he pauses to warn, "Not my hair," and Blaine let's go, settles for grabbing at the sheets and twisting them as his dick rubs against the length of Kurt's throat.

"New York," Blaine mumbles out, writhing and whining and wondering if he can come again—he's lost count of how many times he's come in the last twenty four hours. "You'll miss your flight!" God, please miss your flight. Miss your flight and never leave this bed.

Kurt just sucks harder, teeth working the skin over Blaine's hip and tongue flicking back and forth to sooth while Blaine just whines higher in his throat and wishes Kurt would stop playing games and blow him because Kurt really needs to leave but if he does Blaine will surely die.

"Kurt, please!" Blaine's begging and he knows that makes Kurt preen and boosts his ego a little too much but he's not going to see him again until Christmas and Kurt is fully clothed and Blaine is naked and lying in god knows how many wet spots and Kurt is marking him up. Kurt is marking him up.

"Oh my god, fuck, Kurt, please!"

Blaine feels the rake of nails down his sides, biting at his skin, behind, between the sheets and his ass and clawing at the muscle and it'd hurt if he wasn't high on endorphins and the idea that Kurt is laying claim in a way he's never done before.

God Blaine's happy he pulled him back into bed one last time.

Kurt's hands move down behind Blaine's thighs, opening him up, spreading him wide and Blaine's twisting in the bed, willing Kurt to put his mouth back on him anywhere because when he looks down his sweat-slick body Kurt's just staring at the scatter of bitten-red bruises. "Kurt…." Blaine tries again. "Please…"

Kurt's phone starts to thrill and it's the familiar, terrible melody of Kurt's alarm and Blaine knows that it's the very last call for Kurt to get in his car and race back to his dad's house and then race straight to the airport and the small frown crossing Kurt's lips tells Blaine that Kurt knows it too.

Fingers flexing against the muscles of Blaine's ass, Kurt mutters, "One last one to remember me by," and smiles devilishly.

His lips fall to the crease of Blaine's thigh, to the softest, most sensitive skin Blaine thinks he has, and brushes there softly, making Blaine jolt. He kisses quickly to the inside of Blaine's thigh, just inches from his dick, his ass, everywhere his body is going to miss Kurt the most and how obscene is that thought? How incredibly true?

Kurt's lips press hard and his teeth and tongue work to hold as much tender flesh in his mouth as he can as he sucks viciously and bites down and manages to look up Blaine's body while he's doing it and convey everything simply with slightly-widened eyes and almost-perfect hair and his lips too-red against Blaine's white skin, just beyond the bob of his achingly hard cock, dribbles of precome running down the side.

Kurt pulls back and smirks, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth and pushing his hair back up into pristine condition. When he scoots back off the bed and stands up it takes only a second to tuck his shirt back in and look the epitome of put-togetherness. God he was wearing his boots the whole time.

On the bed, Blaine whines and realizes he's still holding his body taut and stretched and collapses a little.

He can't see the mark on his thigh but Kurt can and he brushes his thumb over it on his way to kiss Blaine chastely on the cheek. He swipes the alarm on his phone off and smiles sweetly. "I'll see you for Christmas," he says, voice only the slightest bit rough, and Blaine just stares, mouth agape and knuckles white where he's still holding onto the sheets.

"Yeah," Blaine says, voice about two octaves too high. He clears his throat. "Yeah, Christmas, I'll just…" Kurt is at the door, looking back happily, gaze raking over Blaine's body.

He's just going to leave me like this.

"I'll just wait here, shall I?" Blaine calls petulantly, already reaching down and fisting his cock, wincing because he has really, truly, had too much sex at this point.

Kurt laughs, voice high and beautiful. "We both know you are completely capable of taking care of yourself," he teases. And, as though the message weren't obvious enough he adds, "I'll skype you as soon as I get to the apartment and you're suitably alone."

Blaine groans and the bedroom door clicks closed behind Kurt.