The bass vibrates beneath their feet and up and into their bones and Blaine can't stay still, rhythm and alcohol beating with his blood, and he pulls Kurt out to the dance floor by his hands – so large and soft, his eyes bright and multicoloured under the multicoloured, ever-changing lights; the music's so loud but they don't need to speak to communicate (the bass is steady as it ripples across the floor - one - two - three - four) — Blaine's body is liquid and Kurt's is a hard rock keeping him contained even as he falls apart to the eight - nine - ten beat; sweat sticks his clothes to his skin and his hands slip against Kurt's neck and their bodies roll together sensual and lyrical and the bass vibrates (four - five - six) and Kurt's lips taste like salt and lime and vodka, sharp and strong and sweet – the taste of how Kurt's body feels against and over and over his, the lights flash and the bass and booze mingle in his head and out through his limbs against Kurt's – and Blaine grins and dances and tastes and follows the bass (one - two - three) until the sky bleeds red.