DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, FOX does. As per request, this is a follow-up of "Third Time's Not The Charm." Warnings are: Rimming, dirty talk, lack of a brain-to-mouth filter.

It's summer now, and while school isn't exactly Kurt's first choice of establishment, he admittedly sort of misses it. He does have biweekly jam sessions with those of New Directions that haven't gone off on vacation, but the challenges they all face constantly during the year are gone. Even Rachel chills out slightly over the break, and as much as Kurt likes this version more, her special brand of intense crazy has always been entertaining and, dare he say it, somewhat endearing.

Summer also means days of extreme heat, which then means that Kurt has to actually bare his "I'd totally rather be a vampire but not in the sparkling sort of way" skin complexion and go through way too much sun block because he burns. Put him next to his ridiculously dark-complected boyfriend—and his is natural, life is so unfair—and he may as well evaporate into a little white ball of nothingness.

Right now, in the third week of June, almost a month into their vacation, he's alone in his house. Burt had taken Carole and Finn camping and Kurt had politely declined. That desperate part of him that strived for fatherly attention is more or less dead now, and he's continually embarrassed when he looks back on the end of his sophomore year and how insane he'd acted about his dad bonding with his now-stepbrother.

It doesn't matter, though, because these days he's got Blaine Anderson Warbler, boy of his dreams. Kurt had never, ever once in his life felt stronger for a person than he does for Blaine, and it's quite obvious, especially to older ladies in the supermarket who like to coo over them, that Blaine's feelings are completely mutual. Right now, though, Kurt is missing those feelings and he just really, really wishes that Blaine wasn't off vacationing in the Bahamas with his awesome rich grandparents.

Some of that pining may have to do with his slumbering jealousy at his sun-kissed boyfriend being scoped out by other sun-kissed boys on beaches of hot, white sand and cool cerulean waves, but it's not like Kurt will ever admit that out loud. Besides, those abs? Still his, especially since he never got to go through with his promise to himself about becoming better-acquainted with that specific part of Blaine's body.

It's tragic that Kurt is still here in Lima with skin unable to hold any color that isn't the reddish tinge of an embarrassed blush and not out sipping virgin pinã coladas under a large umbrella with Blaine at his side. The house is somehow bigger, less intimate when no one is home. The floors creak and sound echoes and Kurt finds himself wishing that he had just gone camping with his family, damn it all to hell.

Come noon on the third day alone he's leaving the (empty) kitchen and heading to the (empty) living room, precariously balancing a paper plate of pita chips and hummus, ready to drown his lonely sorrows in a three-hour Say Yes To The Dress marathon. Ten minutes into the second episode he feels his phone vibrate against his hip. He moves the now-half-empty plate of food that he didn't really taste onto the coffee table and maneuvers his phone out of his pocket. Since they've barely texted all week it surprises Kurt that the incoming text is from Blaine.

Some boy in a red speedo just asked if i wanted to go to dinner. Told him unless his name's kurt hummel he'd better skedaddle.

Kurt wants to hug Blaine and inhale his masculine, Blaine-ish scent that's now probably tinged with a coconutty, beachy smell but has to settle for his phone instead, which is in no way as fulfilling as the real deal and smells like absolutely nothing that Kurt finds attractive on or off a man. Even under the threat of boys genetically capable of wearing Speedos Blaine still wants him, and suddenly those pita chips and hummus taste a lot better.

Kurt, however, doesn't hand his emotions over that easily.

Loved your use of "skedaddle" there. Single-handedly bringing back the forties, I see.

That's all? :( no "omg blaine i love you"?

Kurt's breath catches slightly in his chest. It's still equal parts thrilling and weird that they've progressed into this territory where they're comfortable saying "I love you." Kurt is still surprised at that and at how nonchalant Blaine was as he said it, right at the pause in Kurt's story, like he was meant to say it all this time, like he was the damn puzzle piece Kurt has been looking for all his life.

He's even more surprised at himself for being so coherent and saying it back and not scalding himself with his mouthful of hot coffee in the process, which, as his dad would say, is a very Kurt-like thing to do, and as much as Kurt likes to believe that he is a graceful gazelle prancing along through life, give him a hot boy and he'll become a blathering, blithering mess of crazed, awkward hormones.

You already know that I love you. Don't tell me you're an "I love you" whore who needs to hear it every five minutes.

I can be any kind of whore that you want, kurt ;)

And it's so juvenile and innocent, but Kurt still freaks out because this is Blaine and he enjoys double entendres way too much and he doesn't mess around all that much when it comes to intimacy. Kurt's fingers pause over the touch screen of his phone and he really doesn't know how to digest this information.

Blaine was… Blaine was almost nearly sexting him and Kurt is maybe sort of freaking out while simultaneously being turned on. He's never done this before. He had been a complete and utter virgin until their first time during spring break. He was a baby penguin.

And now, here he is, staring at a text message that's daring him to send something sexy in return. Here he is, not knowing exactly how to start or what to do. He wants to be just as daring, say something that'll get Blaine really turned on, but he just… he can't. He's drawing a blank. What he ends up sending is Blaine Anderson! What would your grandparents say if they saw this?

Immediately after hitting send Kurt wants to bash his head against the doorframe for the rest of his miserable, pathetic, sexless life. He's so stupid sometimes that it actually hurts, and wait, no, that pain is just from his nails digging into his palm. He gingerly unrolls his fist, wincing when his nails leave the ruts they were forming in his palm, little crescent moons blooming a deep red.

His phone beeps again. Kurt opens it with the air of a convicted man.

Uhh, lucky god?

Kurt maybe smiles a little. As much as I appreciate your Road to El Dorado reference, really… Were you trying to sext with me?

Blaine's reply is instantaneous. Well, um, yes and no.

That boy is just full of references today, Kurt idly thinks as he thumbs a message back. I, uh… I kind of liked it.

Oh, did you now? Kurt can almost hear the low purr of Blaine's voice. It sends tendrils of pleasure through his body and sweet Gaga, has it really nearly been two months since they had sex for the first—and only—time? He tries not to blush at the unpleasant-and-still-really-pleasant memory. Blaine may not have the stamina of a god, but he definitely has the body of one. And that stamina thing, yeah, that can be worked on.

Kurt plans on some one-on-one time with that stamina as soon as Blaine is in Ohio again.

There's no time to even begin to think of a reply or witty remark, though, before Blaine's sending, Gotta go, love you.

Kurt wants to scream injustices.

When Kurt wakes up the next morning and realises that his dream the night before had been of Blaine bending him over some weird straw tiki bar thing on the beach and taking him, Red Speedo Boy standing off to the side with a look of extreme jealousy, he is not ashamed one bit.

He just wants his boyfriend back in Lima and in his bed where he belongs, and is that too much to ask? Kurt doesn't think that he's going out on a limb here because everyone is entitled to "next time" sex and so far it's been way too long since they've had the time to be intimate again and as corny as it sounds Kurt would like to climax with Blaine, not after.

He's also constantly dreaming of Blaine's mouth and it's getting really, really frustrating.

It's humorous, in a way, that Kurt is the one wanting sex so badly now since not too long ago he was kicking Blaine out of his house for even bringing up the word. Some of it might have had something to do with his dad's awkward but touching sex talk and if there's anything that Kurt likes hearing more than "Alexander McQueen" and "half-off sale" it's that he matters.

All those miserable years of colliding with unforgiving metal, taking disgustingly cold slushie facials every day and being told that being himself was wrong, at the end of the day all Kurt ever wanted to know was that he mattered, that he deserved to be happy just like everyone else.

Kurt firmly believes that it's not too much to ask.

The next time happens, quite literally, as Blaine walks in through Kurt's front door.

On the fifth day of being home alone and the second day of receiving no texts from Blaine, Kurt hears a knock as he's walking down the stairs to scrounge around the kitchen for some food. Raising an eyebrow quizzically he strides toward the door, mentally picturing where the emergency baseball bat is located, before placing a hand on the brass knob and turning it, fully expecting to come face-to-face with some hulking creep with crude prison tattoos and a shaved head.

However, the door swings wide to reveal a very tanned Blaine with very tousled curls, his body silhouetted by too-golden sunlight and he looks so much like a goddamned angel that Kurt just might cry on the spot. He blames the sun's unforgiving UV rays, not the sight of his way too perfect boyfriend, for the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

Blaine grins wide, all teeth like he does when he's really happy, and steps forward, kicking the door shut with one brown loafer, pinning Kurt against the couch with all his body weight, Kurt adding a small oomph for emphasis as his lumbar region comes in contact with the stiff backing. Blaine presses his lips sloppily to Kurt's and he smells like beach and sand and fruit and Kurt grabs onto him and never wants to let go even as he noses his way down Blaine's neck, fingers disappearing inside unruly black curls as he tastes at the skin he can find.

Blaine tilts his neck upward, sighs a little in a wonderful familiar pain-pleasure mix when Kurt's teeth gently find the thin covering of skin over his collarbone, and says, "This is a pretty good 'Welcome back.' You always outdo yourself on those."

"You initiated it," Kurt replies and laughs a little, tongue swirling and soothing over the little indentations his teeth left on Blaine's skin. "I'm just playing along and trying not to make the same mistake as last time."

Blaine has on this ridiculous striped tank top and stupid capris—he will insist that they are just long shorts, Kurt, jeez—and he's such a damn walking faux pas and Kurt hates himself for loving it as much as he does.

The tank top, however ridiculous the pattern and colors, drives Kurt crazy, and he'll never admit it even under the worst torture imaginable. The way it dips low over Blaine's chest, scooping low and exposing his chest hair and god Kurt never thought he'd be that kind of boy, but somehow he is now.

"Did you get my text?" Blaine asks before Kurt can claim his lips again.

"No," Kurt says slowly, eyebrow rose in silent question.

"Oh, good, I was gonna say, 'cause you definitely didn't text me back and I was so worried."

"Blaine," Kurt says, voice slowing down even further, "what exactly was in this elusive text?"

That sheepish grin again. Kurt can't help but be a little nervous. "I uh, um," Blaine trails off, clearing his throat thoroughly before continuing, "I may have sent you a pretty lengthy text detailing all the things that I wanted to do to you once I was stateside again. And then I never got a reply from you… so I thought that you were mad at me or something and I didn't bother sending another text."

"It never went through," Kurt says, breath and heart speeding up slightly, the familiar coiling of arousal low in his stomach beginning to twist and writhe. "Oh god, why did it not go through?"

"Doesn't matter," Blaine says, his hands tight on Kurt's waist and weight again an insistent force on Kurt's lithe body. "I'm here now and we're going to make our second round of 'welcome back' sex way better than the first." He leans up and in, pressing his lips to Kurt's in a short, dry kiss that turns needy and deep within seconds, Blaine breathing hard against Kurt's cheek as he thrusts upward.

"My room, come on," Kurt pants when he feels Blaine rub against him, hard length against hard length and it's been so long that he wants to lose it here and now, but there's so much that he's missed and coming in these pants would be disastrous.

Blaine whimpers, a little broken noise that Kurt recognizes as one of pure, desperate want, and in a flash they're quickly taking the steps up to Kurt's bedroom, being careful to avoid slamming into the doorframe this time. Blaine's hands migrate down to Kurt's ass, gripping and squeezing, and Kurt can't help the sharp gasp that breaks from his throat as he simultaneously tries to jerk upward and downward.

"Gonna suck you off again," Blaine whispers, trailing his tongue along the shell of Kurt's ear. "God, I love having your cock in my mouth." He slides down, fingers making quick work of belt and button and zipper and even quicker work of taking Kurt out of his briefs. Kurt blushes at Blaine's words, but it's not long before Blaine's tonguing at the slick head of his cock and all rational thought is flying out the window.

"B," Kurt moans out, and maybe he's been watching too much Gossip Girl but he just doesn't care because he's got a guy hotter than Penn Badgley or Ed Westwick going down on him so take that, Leighton Meester. He feels Blaine laugh where his mouth is stretched around the head of his cock and the vibrations are so much but also feel like they're not enough, not getting Kurt to where he needs to be.

That, currently, would be about five feet away on his bed.

"Blaine," he whines again, punctuating it with a low moan and a minute roll of his hips as Blaine's tongue flattens along the underside of his cock before he's drawing back, resting the point of his tongue against the sensitive spot just below the ridge. Kurt's whining reaches such a high frequency it's a wonder the neighbor's stupid Pomeranian isn't yipping shrilly yet.

He wishes that they had done this against a wall, or bed, or some surface that he could lean back on because he's a little unsteady on his feet, and Blaine kneeling down there, looking up at him with doe-like hazel eyes, isn't helping at all.

"Let's—bed, yeah. Bed sounds nice." Kurt's surprised that he managed to articulate that much and that it's comprehensible enough that Blaine is up in a flash, stripping off his tank top and sliding out of his not-shorts as quickly as the denim will allow.

Kurt falls onto the bed, blissfully naked, and an equally-as-naked Blaine is right behind him, kneeling between Kurt's spread legs to grip at Kurt's cock with a freshly licked palm, and Kurt should be surprised at Blaine's eagerness, but he's not. The awkwardness has mostly faded between the two, but Kurt's still a "heat of the moment" kind of guy. Blaine, however, is decidedly not.

It's… almost ridiculous at how much Blaine loves cock and how vocal he is about his adoration for the appendage. Kurt hadn't caught on until after spring break when he'd discovered a late-night text from Blaine that involved face-fucking and coming on glasses—and Kurt had never even seen Blaine in glasses, so that's a new one—or how he'd never hesitate to pull Kurt into a bathroom stall and blow him. Jerk him off rough and quick and Kurt loved every minute of it.

Kurt has a niggling feeling that maybe he should be the one topping, but he just… He just can't bring himself to do it. It had taken him way too long to work up the courage to scheme an admittedly-failed plan to even get naked in front of Blaine, much less be the one doing the… work, for lack of a non-filthy word.

It doesn't matter, Kurt thinks with a sigh as his head tilts back into the pillows, hips arching up slightly as Blaine thumbs the head of his cock. Blaine seems perfectly happy where he is, and Kurt is definitely happy that Blaine is happy where he is.

"Wanna fuck you so hard," Blaine says, voice a gravelly, wrecked-out growl, and he's sliding up Kurt's body to press their lips together. Kurt feels him, hard and insistent, against his though, and thinks dazedly that, yeah, fucking would totally be a good idea right now.

Their kisses tend to be all teeth and tongue and saliva, hot-wet trails down necks and against collarbones as their lips move over every inch of skin that they can reach. Kurt thrusts upward toward Blaine's body at nearly the same time that Blaine thrusts down. The unexpected friction and resulting pleasure cause them both to cry out and brings Kurt dangerously close to coming right then and there.

He pulls back, panting, taking a second to admire Blaine's well-tanned body, watching the expand-contraction of Blaine's torso as he breathes heavily, arms trembling slightly where he's holding himself above Kurt's body. Kurt meets his eyes and sees that the pupils are dilated, wild, and directs his gaze down to look at Blaine's red, red lips, sees his mouth parted slightly, little puffs of air hitting Kurt's heated skin as he exhales.

He's beautiful, almost too beautiful, and he's all Kurt's.

"Lube," Kurt finally says against Blaine's sun-kissed, coconut-scented skin once he's managed to tear his gaze away, mouthing low on his neck. "Drawer, hidden by Vogue."

God, could neither of them speak in full, grammatically-correct English sentences? Everyone should seriously be required to take a course on "sex talk," the nonsense words people tend to spew when they're too turned on to function properly, and Kurt would find this idea beautiful if he was not too turned on to function properly.

Blaine returns with the lube and Kurt gains enough body control without a hand on his cock to pull his knees up toward his chest, and he doesn't miss Blaine's large intake of air and his very un-dapper swear of "Fuck you're so beautiful, Kurt." Kurt grins triumphantly though he feels his cheeks flush with self-conscious embarrassment at being so open like this.

The lube isn't as cold this time when he feels one of Blaine's fingers circle slowly before pressing in. Kurt immediately forgets his body image crisis and succumbs to the burn and pleasure following the stretch with a low moan and an almost-imperceptible rock of his hips.

Blaine adds a second finger, talking Kurt through it gently, and crooks them almost viciously, catching onto Kurt's prostate after the second try. Kurt arches into it with a cry of Blaine's name, and as his grip tightens on his thighs he suddenly gets this wonderful, wonderful idea.

"Blaine, I-I want…" He's almost too embarrassed to do this, and he feels that stupid telltale flash of heat that means he's blushing, and he doesn't want to, wants to pretend like he's suave and has been thinking about this for longer than ten fucking seconds, but he hasn't and this is a big deal.

Blaine looks up, still two fingers deep inside Kurt and says, "What is it you want, Kurt?"

Kurt swallows and tries his best to fight the blush he can feel creeping up his neck. "I want… I want you to—to eat me out."

There's a startled silence and Kurt is really starting to regret asking in the first place. It's oddly phrased since he's a guy and all, but… he's seen a few of those videos since their first time and he's heard of guys asking it, so it's not too unusual, but Blaine is looking downright confused, and if Kurt wasn't struggling to keep it up through his embarrassment he'd find that tilted head and quizzical look absolutely endearing.

As it is, he's struggling to keep it up and Blaine's silence and tilted head aren't helping. Finally after Kurt shimmies his hips a little to remind Blaine that, yes, his fingers are still two knuckles deep, Blaine seems to snap out of it. "Uh… What?"

Oh no, now Kurt's going to have to expound on this and it's already awkward enough. He takes a deep breath and says, "I want you to eat out my ass. I want… your tongue inside me, Blaine. Please."

Blaine seems to get it this time because his mouth is suddenly on Kurt's, desperate and wanting and so damn eager like he always is. Kurt kisses back with just as much force, unconsciously letting go of his legs and spreading them wider as his hands clutch at Blaine's shoulders.

It feels almost empowering to say those words aloud; like he's broken some barrier he never knew existed. He still feels embarrassed, of course, and too effeminate but yet so completely shocked that Blaine seems to want this almost as much as he does.

"I've… never done this before," Blaine says, uneasy, when they part to breathe. He retracts his fingers and settles back on his heels. "I don't want you to hate it. Or me."

"Never," Kurt says, a hint of a smile forming. He shifts up to his knees and places his hands on both sides of Blaine's face, a soft smile stretching across his lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Blaine says, and Kurt kisses him once before dropping down on all fours, chewing at his lower lip. He can feel Blaine's eyes on him, watching, judging, and he shouldn't care, knows that they love each other, but he's just seventeen after all. He can tick his intimate encounters off on one hand.

He starts when he feels Blaine's breath across his lower back, right above his tailbone, and doesn't hold back his desperate moan when he feels Blaine nosing along the divide between his cheeks. He grips harder onto the comforter when Blaine's hands spread him, tries his best not to push back when he feels the hot, wet push of Blaine's tongue against his entrance.

"Jesus," Kurt hisses out, squeezing his eyes shut. "You're so fucking good with your tongue, Blaine. See, you don't even need to have done this before. I'm so glad we've discovered this sex thing, you're so hot and so talented and I love your tongue and your cock and the thought that you love my cock and I just want you to talk dirty to me right now. Say filthy, filthy things to me, Blaine." Oh god why is he babbling like this, why doesn't he have a correct brain-to-mouth filter like normal people.

"Mmm," Blaine says, and whether it's agreement or a witty comment Kurt doesn't know, and, frankly, doesn't care, because now Blaine's slowly working him open and thrusting and Kurt also doesn't care how undignified he is when he makes a sound extremely akin to a squeal and drives his hips toward the mattress for any kind of friction.

He feels Blaine move one hand to push against his back, and Kurt follows the movement, pressing his chest to the bed, head resting on his folded arms, and when he feels Blaine slide in a finger alongside his tongue he can only make a garbled moan, hips weakly stuttering back and forth, like he's unsure what to seek release from.

Kurt really, really never wants it to end, but suddenly Blaine's tongue and fingers are leaving him, and before he can whine at the ill-timed loss he hears Blaine rip open a foil packet and pop the cap on the lube and suddenly his hands are gripping tight onto Kurt's hips as he pushes forward without warning and that hurts but feels so amazing at the same time.

"Blaine!" Kurt gasps, like it's the only word he knows, and he feels the hot, sticky weight of Blaine above him as he leans down, mouth level to Kurt's ear. "You're such a slut," he whispers. Kurt doesn't know if he's shivering from the words or the slick pleasure-pain of Blaine's cock moving inside him or the fact that he suggested this and Blaine's actually acting upon it. "You, just begging for my tongue like that. Begging me, like a common whore, to eat out your ass. And I'll do it; you know I'll do anything for you. You taste so fucking good, Kurt. So, so good." He bites gently at Kurt's earlobe before tugging slightly.

Kurt whimpers and feels the heat in the room shoot up several degrees. Sweat starts to bead on his forehead and collect on his back and he tries to push himself up onto his hands but Blaine's weight is holding him down. "Fuck me, Blaine," Kurt says, words slightly muffled by his position, but the enthusiasm is still evident. "Please. Fuck me harder."

Where this is coming from, Kurt's pretty sure that Blaine also doesn't know. It feels so right and so good and Kurt just never wants to stop, always wants Blaine's weight pushing him down, holding him there as he moves and making Kurt take it as he speeds up his thrusts, making little unf and uh noises into Kurt's ear as he draws his hips back as far as he can before slamming forward. Kurt's resulting moan is unabashedly loud.

It's only a few moments later that Kurt decides that, no, having Blaine's weight there all the time, holding him down, is not that good of an idea and he says, "Gotta flip over," before he does. He sighs a little in relief as his arms begin to gain feeling again, little pins and needles prickling up and down as he flops onto his back.

Looking up, Kurt meets Blaine's eyes and says warmly, "I love watching your face."

Blaine gives this half laugh as he thrusts forward and leans in close. Eyes at half-mast, Kurt watches as a small droplet of sweat slides from Blaine's hairline to his nose, and he doesn't think twice before he's leaning up and licking it off, moaning when Blaine brushes against his prostate and bringing a hand up to tug at his cock, relishing in the full-body shudder that went through Blaine as Kurt licked at his nose.

"Kurt," Blaine whispers, and suddenly it's tender again, and Blaine gets in one more thrust before Kurt's coming, back arching, tightening around Blaine until he's coming as well with a loud groan and the sexiest sex noise Kurt still swears he has ever heard.

Even with Blaine's body heat away from him as he pulls out to tie off the condom it's still ridiculously hot in the room, so much so that Kurt feels too sluggish to get up and find a wet washcloth to clean himself up with and he just doesn't even care. He sprawls out across his duvet, trying to turn the overhead fan on with his mind, when he hears a distinctly familiar click and feels the gentle, cool whoosh of air hitting him.

The bed dips by his side and then Blaine's there, cool, damp washcloth in his hand, and Kurt really has the best boyfriend ever, without a doubt. He's silent as Blaine cleans him off, and waits until he feels and hears Blaine leave the bed again to say, "I'm really proud at your stamina, by the way. Definitely improved."

Kurt sits up when he hears a chuckle, and says, "Next time, do you um…" he trails off, and Blaine stops, eyes wide in question, and Kurt only admires his naked body for a millisecond before he's saying, "Do you think that I could… I could top? I kind of like this experimenting thing that we've got going on."

Blaine grins wide, all teeth like he does when he's happy, and says, "Thought you'd never ask."