A/N: Back with a Blang. (Blamng? ... Blam bang? I dunno... HI GUYS!) This is a fic I posted on my blog a while back. However, that blog has now been deleted, so I figure it's about time I return to good old ffn!

One day in early July, Sam spends the night in Blaine's tiny apartment. Usually, Sam is a pretty heavy sleeper, but lord knows he has trouble sleeping in hot weather – especially in rooms with air conditioning as sucky as Blaine's. And by sucky, he means practically non-existent. So, he wakes before Blaine, dazed and sweaty from the sticky heat.

He shoves the covers away from his body, smiling lazily when the movement leaves his boyfriend's body almost completely bare, naked except for the pale grey boxer-briefs low on his hips. They've slipped down over the course of the night, now revealing a strip of curly black hair a few inches below Blaine's navel.

Blaine is sprawled on his back, with one arm hanging off the bed and legs twisted at awkward angles. Sam thinks it may be the cutest thing he's ever seen. His head lolls to the side heavily, lips parted just enough to make Sam yearn to slip his tongue inside.

He strokes Blaine's sweaty forehead fondly, pushes back the curls that have become stuck to the skin, runs his fingers along a warm cheek. He leans in closer to drop a quick kiss to each of Blaine's eyebrows, then pulls back a little and watches as his dark eyelashes quiver. He smiles, wondering what Blaine is dreaming about, and whether he'll hear all about it over breakfast. (He will.)

He lets his hand slip down Blaine's neck then, resting it gently on his chest, and places a tender kiss just under his jaw, allowing his eyes to fall shut as he feels the familiar scuff of Blaine's morning stubble on his lips. His fingers are drawing shapes across Blaine's ribcage, looping around his nipples and dragging through the thicker patches of hair. (The uneven, rough hair that overlays Blaine's torso and thighs. The hair that Blaine positively detests, that Sam adores.) His lips skate along Blaine's jawline and place a few quick kisses around his ear. He nips at the top of his ear playfully, snickering quietly when Blaine twitches away just a bit. Sam sighs, gazing down at the gorgeous man next to him. His hand stills in the centre of Blaine's chest, feeling the gentle thud of his heart beating under the soft skin. For a few moments, he stays like that, propped up on one elbow so that he's half-leaning over his boyfriend, his other arm lying on his torso. Streaks of sunlight are beginning to crawl from the floor onto the bed, highlighting Blaine's features, making them even more striking. Sam thinks he could stay here forever, drinking in this man's appearance and caressing every last bit of him over and over. He would even put up with the uncomfortable heat if it meant he could be here with Blaine, touching and kissing and existing together.

Blaine half-opens his eyes. They're brown and sleepy, and just a little bit disappointed. "Why'd you stop?" he mumbles.

"I thought you were asleep," Sam says, as if that's a valid answer to Blaine's question. He pulls back slightly, a little embarrassed, but amused at Blaine's reaction to his behaviour, which must be kind of creepy to wake up to, right?

Blaine gets halfway through rolling his eyes before they slip closed again. "Kiss me please." He reaches out blindly for some part of Sam, latching drowsily onto his shoulder and tugging.

Sam chuckles, bending to kiss Blaine, who smiles against his lips. "Morning, Sammy," he says. "Morning, Blainey." Blaine giggles. It's unrestrained and sincere and so incredibly happy that Sam finds himself cupping his face and kissing him again – once, twice, three times, a little firmer each time their lips meet.

Blaine opens his eyes properly, yawning but more awake now. Sam smiles down at him. He nuzzles their noses together, and they're both giggling this time until Sam falls on top of Blaine, their chests pressed together tightly, making the smaller of the two squirm at the contact.

"Oh my God, Sam."

"What?"

"You're like, really hot."

Sam raises his eyebrows. He pauses to consider his response – a simple "Yeah, I am" could work with the right inflection. "Hot for you" might be too sleazy for this time of the morning. He opens his mouth, smirking –

"Sweaty, Sam. I meant you're sweaty," Blaine corrects quickly.

"Sure, sure."

Blaine swats lazily at his ass. Sam's body is completely covering Blaine's, skin sticking together at every point not covered by their underwear. "Saaaaam," Blaine groans, pouting. "You're crushing me."

Sam sits up, straddling Blaine's waist with a scandalised look on his face. "Blaine," he starts, voice laden with mock-hurt, "Are you… Are you calling me fat?"

"You're ridiculous." Blaine shakes his head slowly.

Sam grins. "You love it. Almost as much as you love these flawless abs." He pats his own torso proudly.

Blaine laughs again. "Exactly, and if anyone is in any way fat in this relationship, I think it's fair to say that that person would be me."

Okay, what? Blaine is, like, tiny.

"I mean…" Blaine glances down at himself. Last thing at night and early in the morning – those are the times at which he's most explicit about his thoughts, his feelings. Sam realises he's now about to see a little more of Blaine's makeup. "I work out almost as much as you do, right? And my chest is okay, and my arms are – I like my arms." Sam runs his hands up and down Blaine's sides. How the hell can Blaine not see how awesome his body is? "And my ass is… Good."

"Amazing," Sam interjects, unable to stop himself. Blaine ducks his head bashfully.

"It's just that no matter how much I exercise and how well I eat, I have this damn layer of fat around my stomach and it's… it's exasperating! It sucks."

"Blaine!" Sam throws himself down on top of his boyfriend again, mumbling an apology when Blaine grunts in discomfort. "I love your tummy."

Blaine rolls his eyes. "Sam. The fact that you even use the word 'tummy' should be an indicator of how unappealing it is."

Sam cannot believe what he's hearing. Blaine's tummy is the part of him Sam loves most. His adorable, wonderful, perfect little tummy.

Back in high school, Sam had seen Blaine shirtless in the locker room countless times and never thought much of it. They were buds, and that was it. He may have, on occasion, mentally acknowledged the fact that Blaine was cute, but never dwelled on it too much.

Now, though, every time Blaine takes his shirt off, the first thing Sam wants to do is nuzzle the soft skin around his belly. It's sort of strange, perhaps, considering the amount of effort he puts into his own ab workouts – he needs his abs to be rock-hard. He just does. Maybe it's an insecurity thing or whatever. But Blaine… Blaine doesn't need that. He's perfect. He has to realise how perfect he is.

Sam shuffles himself until he's half-sitting, half-lying on Blaine's legs, head resting on his belly.

"What are you –" Sam shushes him, looking up to meet Blaine's eyes as he presses a lingering kiss to the spot just above his belly-button. Blaine's expression is hesitant, so Sam smiles warmly up at him.

"Blaine," he mumbles against hot skin, "you -" he dips his tongue into his belly-button "are -" he licks a crooked stripe to his hip "gorgeous." He turns his head to the side, nestling into the space beside Blaine's hipbone where his belly curves upward. He can feel Blaine let out a long breath. A hand finds its way into Sam's hair and stays there as Sam kisses his way back to his navel. He brings his own hands up to stroke across Blaine's barely-there abs, caressing the subtle grooves in his skin. He places a circle of open-mouthed kisses around his belly-button, then wraps his arms around Blaine's waist and snuggles back into his tummy. "Perfect," he breathes, his eyes falling closed.

A minute later, the hand in Sam's hair is tugging firmly upwards. He drowsily obliges, allowing himself to be pulled into a deep kiss. Blaine's tongue plunges into his mouth. Sam plants his hands either side of Blaine's head; Blaine pulls his body closer with fervent hands.

Their kisses are passionate and needy, their too-hot bodies moving together somewhat clumsily. Their mouths part every now and then to allow them to gasp for air and stare into each other's eyes. Sam takes advantage of one of these breaks, ducking his head to suck at a spot low on Blaine's neck. Blaine moans quietly, wrapping his legs around Sam's back and pressing their hardening cocks together.

Blaine is whispering his name over and over again, his nails beginning to dig into Sam's shoulders. Sam abandons the large hickey he had created (one thing his mouth is really good for) and bites lightly at the skin of his neck. He can feel Blaine's cock rutting frantically against him and he thrusts down in return – hard.

"Sam… Sam, we should -" Blaine is panting loudly now, "Uh." Blaine's train of thought seems to disappear when Sam starts grinding his cock in slow, deliberate motions against his own.

"Too hot," Sam groans, "Just have to…" He ruts harder into Blaine's erection, hoping he's being clear enough. Evidently, Blaine grasps his meaning - so to speak - and grasps a handful of Sam's ass – literally. They're thrusting together desperately now, sweat pouring off their bodies. The headboard crashes noisily against the wall and the whole bed shakes under the pressure.

The sounds Blaine is making under him are unimaginable – low, guttural moans blending into sharp cries of need. Sam groans loudly as he feels himself getting closer to orgasm. He forces his eyes to stay open, taking in the sight of his boyfriend, debauched and drenched in sweat, wanting everything Sam has to give. He screams out as he comes, fucking recklessly against Blaine.

Blaine comes too then, moaning Sam's name, his hips moving erratically under Sam's floundering thrusts. A few seconds, or minutes, or hours, and they're lying side by side once again, breathing heavily and grinning like idiots.

The sun is beaming into the tiny room. Sam's head is in a daze; his body stinks of sex. He has to leave for a long day of work in an hour and he thinks he may have pulled something in his back at some point. He's too hot, impossibly so, and the combination of sweat and come in his boxers feels like it might just set his junk on fire. It's the least comfortable he's ever felt in his life. Until he turns his head and sees Blaine gazing drowsily at him, smiling. Then he realises that in fact, this is the happiest he's ever been.