PART EIGHT: WHILE YOUR HEAD IS CLEAR

Light was just beginning to touch the sky when Kurt woke up. He groaned a little as he shifted and felt his back crack in several different places. As his brain came awake, he noted his chest and stomach was sticky. Immediately, then, he remembered why: chocolate and come. He grinned in spite of himself and became aware of Blaine curled up behind him. Their legs were still wrapped together but Blaine had his arms curled up close to his body, his hands in fists, as if protecting himself. Kurt sighed. He hoped he could prove to Blaine how serious he was about this, mend both their hearts and loosen those balled-up fists enough to hold hands.

Kurt stretched his arms above his head and sighed at the way his muscles and joints popped. He flexed, enjoying the stretch. He hadn't properly exercised for a while and made a mental note to pick it up again… especially if more of his nights ended like they had the previous evening.

Kurt twisted around and studied Blaine more closely. He was still asleep. There was a dark mark on the corner of his jaw and Kurt leaned in to determine if it was a hickey or dried chocolate. When he discovered it to be the former, Kurt felt a swelling in his chest he hadn't experienced in years. He felt incredibly bodily full, as if he were taking a huge breath and just holding it forever, letting the oxygen filter into his brain and leave him in a state of euphoria. He tried to remember the last guy he had slept with that had given him this feeling the morning after instead of at the club, in the prelude before. There had been a couple who lasted more than a few months, but he'd never felt so sure of himself with them as he did here, with Blaine.

He looked at the clock on the nightstand and saw it was only a little past five. He was supposed to meet with Leonard at the warehouse before lunch to discuss which rug he would purchase. Kurt furrowed his brow, annoyed he still needed to figure that out. He hadn't so much as glanced at those rugs the night before on his way into the bedroom with Blaine. Blaine. Blaine. Kurt looked back at the man sleeping beside him.

With the hand that wasn't propping him up, Kurt reached out and touched the center of Blaine's forehead lightly with the pad of his index finger. He was warm and his skin soft. Kurt slowly and carefully set the rest of his fingers down across the arch of Blaine's forehead until his pinky was resting by the outside corner of Blaine's right eye. He studied Blaine's face under his fanned-out fingers, noting the contrast between his milky pale skin and Blaine's tan hadn't changed much over ten years. He let his fingers glide down the side of Blaine's face until they were cradling his cheek and chin. He was gorgeous sleeping. That also hadn't changed. Kurt impulsively let his thumb touch to Blaine's lower lip and rub, gently, from one side to the next. Then, pulling his hand away, Kurt curiously put his thumb in his mouth to taste Blaine—and with a chuckle from deep inside him he recognized the taste of his own come. Blaine still tasted like him. Kurt almost wrinkled his nose, thinking, gross, but it was nothing a shower and the brushing of teeth wouldn't wash away. Though maybe I don't want him to wash it away, he thought absently, running his fingers loosely through Blaine's hair, his fingernails scraping Blaine's scalp lightly.

Blaine moaned softly in his sleep and started to turn over onto his back. Kurt pulled his hand up and let Blaine finish moving around, then rest his hand on Blaine's chest over his heart. He could feel the steady and sure beating of that heart, that heart he had so coldly abused. Shaking his head slightly at himself, Kurt bit his lip and then slowly eased off the bed. He realized he was naked and considered, briefly, putting his boxer briefs back on but didn't see the point, really.

It was then that he noticed the tray of fruit, most of it going brown from exposure to air, and the fondue pot of chocolate. The dry chocolate, Kurt suspected, would not make a good breakfast, but he scooped up a handful of the rest of the fruit and popped a piece into his mouth on his way into the suite parlor.

He walked around until he was standing in front of the rugs, finishing the rest of the fruit. Kurt pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He closed his eyes and pulled to mind the room the rug would be going in. He imagined the twin lamps he had already picked out, the piano the Duchess had asked get moved from the library into that room, the curtains he had hung himself just a week before, and the glorious antique loveseat he had picked out himself. He was waiting to get the coffee table and the rest of the room seating until he had the rug picked, but there was still a lot to go on, a lot he had to match without matching too garishly. Kurt opened his eyes and gasped.

Blaine was standing in front of him sleepily, rubbing one of his eyes with the heel of his left hand. He had also apparently decided not to put his boxers back on, and he smiled sheepishly at Kurt. Blaine laid his right hand on Kurt's hip heavily, with surety and a smidge of possessiveness. Kurt curled a corner of his mouth into a smile and stepped forward, instinctively wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck and burying his face into the side of his head. He breathed in deep and then kissed his curls before pulling back slightly and looking down into Blaine's face.

"Good morning," he whispered, then grimaced and put one of his hands over his mouth. "Sorry. Morning breath."

"Whatever," Blaine said back, then pulled Kurt's hand away and leaned up slightly to kiss him. He hummed a little and then licked along Kurt's bottom lip. "You taste like apples," he said accusingly.

Kurt laughed. "I ate some of that fruit. Can't work on an empty stomach."

Blaine raised an eyebrow and then looked down and realized he was standing on one of the rugs. As if the rug was lava, Blaine got on his toes and leapt lightly off the rug, dragging Kurt sideways a bit with him.

"It's all right. Rugs are made to be walked on," Kurt said. He looked down at the rug Blaine had been standing on. It was the one with the grid of lines and squares, sort of a contemporary design but the color was steeped in the right time period for the room. A man could get lost in that grid, the way the lines were staggered they looked like boxes within boxes within infinite boxes, away into the abyss of the rug. And yet—it also reminded him, suddenly, of the plaid on his dad's shirt one night when he was little and crying into the sleeve because he had just lost his mom and nothing would ever be okay again. And also—it reminded him of a map of New York City, a particular map he had on his first trip there for nationals in glee club his junior year, and running his finger along the lines of blocks and blocks of streets with names he was eager to memorize, as he spoke softly into his phone to Blaine at home in Ohio.

Kurt felt Blaine's hand in his and just knew, suddenly, what was right. He turned quickly and then snapped his arm toward him, pulling Blaine in against him and smashing his lips against Blaine's, kissing fiercely, protectively. Blaine whimpered a little in surprise and broke off the kiss, gasping.

"Is this real?" Blaine asked, his eyes studying Kurt's face.

Kurt nodded. "I want you. Always. I need you."

Blaine bit his lip a little and smiled soft. "Then take me."

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's torso and then slid his hands up Kurt's back until they were grasping his shoulders. He couldn't pull Kurt close enough—Kurt pushed one of his legs needily between Blaine's, trying to get their bodies touching as much as possible, but he had misjudged how balanced Blaine was, and they started to topple over. Before they fell completely, Kurt managed to buckle his knees and hold onto Blaine's body enough to lay him roughly but not painfully onto the rug. He finally had the contact he wanted, stretched out on top of Blaine, and he shifted his hips slightly so that his legs were twined around Blaine's and his cock and Blaine's were side-by-side, tight between their two bodies. With a strangled moan, Kurt attacked Blaine's throat with his lips and teeth while he rocked his body against Blaine's, getting the friction he knew they both needed.

Blaine gasped out Kurt's name and his hands pushed down Kurt's back to his butt. Blaine squeezed and Kurt sucked harder on Blaine's collar bone, forcing out a loud moan from Blaine.

They were bucking against each other desperately, pre-come easily coating their cocks and making their rutting easier but still not close enough. Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's butt and tried to pull him against his hips harder. Then, out of primal need, Blaine's fingers trailed down to press against Kurt's entrance.

Kurt whimpered out of need and pressed up against Blaine's fingers, but Blaine stilled his exploration and just grinned crookedly up at him.

"What?" Kurt demanded, slightly unhinged.

"I just…" Blaine lifted his hips up a little to push into Kurt. He rolled his hips and Kurt groaned, again trying to press back into Blaine's fingers. Blaine, frustratingly, kept them where they were. "I just really missed you," he finally said, leaning his head up and pressing a deep kiss onto Kurt's lips. It was almost chaste after the attacking of mouths they had been doing, and Kurt felt his entire body, mind and soul melt away into Blaine.

"I missed you too," Kurt murmured against Blaine's lips, and the exchange, the way it was said—the tone exactly the same as I love you and I love you too like that day nearly ten years ago in the Lima Bean after Kurt came back from nationals and spilled his stories and dreams out to Blaine over a medium drip and grande nonfat mocha.

Blaine laughed a little and pressed soft kisses against Kurt's lips, and then the corner of his mouth, down to his jaw, and then up the line of his jaw to his ear, where he licked the shell of Kurt's ears. It felt filthy and incredible, and Kurt threaded his hands into and pulled Blaine's hair as Blaine whispered, "Do you have any lube?"

Kurt nodded and gestured helplessly into the bedroom. "I always keep some in my bathroom stuff."

"But that's so far away," Blaine moped half-jokingly, and Kurt giggled against his cheek.

"Close your eyes," Kurt whispered, "and don't open them until I come back."

Kurt couldn't see his eyes, but he felt Blaine's lashes sweep his face lightly as his eyelids closed and he felt a flutter go over his heart as he pressed his hands against the rug and leveraged himself up and off of Blaine. He almost whined at the loss of Blaine's skin and breath and pre-come and sweat against his body, but jogged lightly into the bedroom and then the bathroom, and rifled through his bag of shampoo and conditioner and hairspray and everything else anyone could ever, ever need—why did he have so many little tubes of products that weren't lube for god's sake—before he found what he was looking for, as well as a condom, and almost ran back into the parlor.

Blaine was still lying there on the rug, his eyes closed, his mouth open slightly as he panted. Kurt felt a jolt go to his cock as he saw that Blaine was almost lazily stroking his erection. Kurt knew he could have stood there indefinitely watching Blaine get himself off, but he also knew he wanted to be the one making it happen even more, so he knelt down over Blaine and pushed his arms up and away from his sides.

"Hey," Blaine said, half-protestation, half-greeting.

"Naughty," Kurt replied, squeezing one of Blaine's wrists.

"You only said no looking, not no touching."

Kurt chuckled. "That's true … but I want to be the one doing the touching."

Blaine shivered underneath him and Kurt spread his legs across Blaine's lap, straddling him and leaning down to kiss at the underside of his jaw. One of Blaine's hands escaped Kurt's and snaked down to Kurt's ass, where he resumed the exploration he had started. Without stopping his kissing, Kurt pressed the bottle of lube into Blaine's other hand. He half-noticed Blaine taking the cap off and coating the fingers of one of his hands—his attention was diverted as he sucked on the hickey he had left on Blaine's jaw the previous night. He heard Blaine gasp as he ran his teeth over the mark, and then Kurt felt Blaine press a finger against his entrance teasingly.

Kurt whined and stopped mouthing at Blaine's jaw for a moment as his brain short-circuited. He went soft against Blaine, slack-jawed and just panting a little into Blaine's neck as Blaine slowly pushed his finger inside Kurt.

The first time they had done this, it had hurt and Kurt had had to stop several times before they could even get one finger in. But that was several years and several lovers ago, and Kurt knew his body a little better. He bore down onto Blaine's finger and only hissed out of the sharp pleasurable burn he felt, not pain. He was able to start kissing again at Blaine's neck as Blaine worked the finger inside Kurt, stretching him out. Kurt rocked down, almost fucking himself on Blaine's finger, whimpering a little when it was not enough.

Blaine knew what Kurt needed, knew it like he knew Kurt, and slowly added a second finger. The burn Kurt felt had turned into just a warm heat that was building very gradually in his lower body. He twined his fingers into Blaine's curls and pulled a little, bringing Blaine's head back so he had easier access to his clavicle. As Kurt began adding another hickey to Blaine's neck, Blaine scissored his two fingers inside Kurt until he was stretched enough for a third. Kurt bore down onto the third easily and started rocking harder now, helplessly fucking himself on Blaine's fingers.

"Jesus, Kurt," Blaine groaned, scissoring his fingers and probing a little until he found the spot Kurt desperately wanted him to find. As Blaine pressed against that nub of nerves, Kurt shuddered heavily and bit back a cry of pleasure, seeing stars for just a second.

"Please, Blaine, please, please, please," Kurt chanted against Blaine's neck. He pushed back against Blaine's fingers hard, and Blaine got the hint.

He took his fingers out and Kurt whimpered at the loss, but then heard Blaine rip open the condom wrapper and squeeze more lube out of the tube to coat his cock. Kurt's begging pleases had ceased to become words and were just syllables, muttered in rhythm against Blaine's sweaty skin, when he felt the head of Blaine's cock push against his entrance, and then syllables became just consonants and babbling and moans.

Kurt pushed down as Blaine pushed up and then finally, finally, they were together, as bodily close as they could be. Kurt knew, somewhere deep inside his heart, that just as Blaine was the first person to do this with him, he would be the last as well. He kissed against Blaine's neck again, and felt Blaine strain his neck up so that he could kiss the top of Kurt's head. Then Blaine's hands were pulling Kurt's face up to meet his. As Kurt sat up a little, Blaine's cock drove even deeper inside him and he cried out in pleasure, pushing down as much as possible. Then as his lips met Blaine's in a sweet, long, perfect kiss, Blaine started to move his hips up and down.

Kurt moved his hips in harmony, meeting him on every stroke. He tilted at a slightly different angle and suddenly Blaine was hitting his prostate on every thrust. Kurt couldn't stifle his cries and didn't want to, wanted the world to know Blaine Anderson was his again, and he was Blaine's. One of Blaine's hands left Kurt's face and slid down around his cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. Kurt felt himself lost completely in this abyss of Blaine, just letting the pleasure wash over him again and again, losing count of how many times he was able to pant out Blaine's name amidst babbled consonants and high moans. He felt the heat in his lower body intensify, and he knew he was close.

Blaine's thrusts were becoming less rhythmic and more erratic and Kurt knew he was also close. He fucked himself on Blaine harder a few times and then felt Blaine still just briefly before he shuddered and came, still thrusting, but with less driven purpose. Blaine's eyes opened wide and he pumped Kurt's cock a few more times as his lips attacked the spot behind Kurt's ear that he must have remembered from high school—and then Kurt was coming fast and hot between them. Blaine stroked him through his orgasm, and then Kurt collapsed on top of Blaine. Blaine pulled out of Kurt carefully and slid the condom off, tying it at the top and tossing it away from them, off the rug.

They were so unbelievably sweaty and coated in come and even still some chocolate from the previous night. Kurt wanted to shower but instead his eyes closed and he fell asleep plastered on top of Blaine, his lover, his—yes, definitely—boyfriend, and maybe—when they moved to New York—his future husband.

In the moment before he lost consciousness, Kurt felt Blaine's lips breathe a very quiet, "I'll never say goodbye to you," against him—and then they both dropped off, dreamers on a grid of possibilities.

EPILOGUE

It was a month before Blaine moved to New York. They shared Kurt's crappy little apartment in the East Village until the lease was up, and then they moved into a much nicer place a few blocks over.

With assistance from the Duchess, Blaine found a very cushy job at a school library not far from their neighborhood. Kurt often came home from a day working in Manhattan to find Blaine curled up asleep on their couch, a book in one hand but the other open, waiting for Kurt to fill it with his. Kurt liked to watch him napping before he went into the kitchen to make dinner. Though, sometimes he just ordered Japanese and they watched old Jackie Chan movies together and pretended to be drunken masters.

As for the rugs? The red one went back to Leonard. Kurt decided the Duchess's room needed regality, and so she got the one with the flowers and leaves and elegant patterns. And the one with the grid, the one they finally got up from that morning, just to stumble into the shower and do it all over again—that one?

When Kurt would watch Blaine sleeping, he was framed by the black leather of the back of the sofa above him and on either side, and of course the rug with the grid on the floor in front of the couch. It had a coffee table on it now, for when Kurt schooled Blaine in Scrabble, but it wasn't too heavy to move aside when they felt like reliving the day they found each other again.