"Blaine," Kurt sighed, and Blaine had never heard a more beautiful sound. Kurt was clutching Blaine's shoulders, his fingertips pressing into the clenched deltoid muscles with a bruising grip. It felt like Kurt wanted to pull him as close as possible, to meld their bodies together even more than they already were. Blaine leaned down to cover Kurt's open, panting mouth with his own as he tenderly thrust into the lithe, writhing body beneath him.

Ever since their first kiss back at Dalton, Blaine had never been able to figure out what he had done to deserve this beautiful, confident, independent star of a boy. From that moment, to the first time they shared 'I love you's,' and then the first night they made love four months ago, Blaine's awe had only grown as he realized how much they trusted each other, how much they were willing to share with each other. It took his breath away.

And now, his love, the man of his dreams, was moaning and gasping against his mouth as if he was ready to come apart, and Blaine wanted nothing more than to help him do just that. He began moving faster, his gentle motions gaining momentum and strength, and his mouth dropped down to the soft creamy skin of Kurt's throat.

"Kurt, oh god, I love you," he growled against the soft flesh, reaching down with one hand to grip the straining erection between them, pumping as closely in time with his thrusts as he could. Kurt's head pressed back into the pillow, his moans turning to whimpers and then to gasps as his hips rose to meet Blaine's.

"Blaine…" he breathed one more time as he came between them. The strained sound of his voice combined with the sticky warmth covering Blaine's hand and the added tightness as Kurt's body clenched around him drew his own orgasm from him only seconds later.

Once their breathing finally calmed, Blaine lowered his head to Kurt's chest, the quiet thumping against his ear a soothing lullaby. There was a deep rising and falling as Kurt sighed under him, and Blaine smiled to himself, loving this closeness.

"I love you Blaine." It was almost a whisper, but it burned into Blaine's mind, just like every time he had ever heard it from those sweet lips. He nuzzled against Kurt's smooth chest.

"I love you too, baby."

The next evening, they were sitting in Kurt's bed, leaning against the headboard and drinking hot tea as they each flipped through an old copy of Vogue, pointing out interesting articles or pictures they came across. Apparently finished with his issue, Kurt set it down and picked up his phone, absently fiddling with the screen. Blaine didn't pay much attention as he continued browsing through his magazine, until he heard a startled squeak from Kurt.

"Oh my god!" he wailed, jumping up from the bed and hastily setting his mug on the nightstand.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked, not sure if this was an actual crisis or a Kurt crisis.

Kurt was already rushing to the bathroom that joined his bedroom.

"I'm okay, I just spilled my tea on my shirt, and this is one of my favorites and I can't let it stain so I have to rinse it out right this second or it'll be ruined!" Blaine smiled to himself at Kurt's breathless rambling. He reached over to touch Kurt's mug, relieved to find it only lukewarm. At least he knew Kurt hadn't been burned—it would be just like him to ignore scalding skin in favor of saving an article of clothing.

"Do you need any help?" he called halfheartedly. He didn't figure there was anything he could do, but he had to offer.

"No, thanks, I got it." Just then Kurt's phone started ringing. "See who that is?" he shouted from behind the bathroom door.

Blaine reached over and picked it up, glancing at the screen. "It's Rachel," he called. He heard a groan from the bathroom.

"Ugh, just hit ignore. She's been bugging me all week about her wedding plans, and I don't want to hear it right now."

Blaine did as instructed, watching the screen to make sure the call ended. He was about to set the phone down when something caught his eye. The call screen had faded into a list, which he recognized as the bucket list Kurt had shown him months ago. The thing that had caught his attention was his name. Without meaning to, his eyes scanned the screen, and his breath was stolen at the sight of two words:

#98. Top Blaine.

Did he really just read that? The words were glaring up at him, and Blaine was having trouble organizing his thoughts through the loud buzzing in his head. Only the noise of Kurt opening the bathroom door rattled him out of his shock, and he hastily locked the phone and dropped it like a hot coal on the bedspread.

"Thanks."

Blaine's head jerked up, the flush creeping up his neck only increasing when his gaze landed on Kurt's bare, pale chest and his low-slung pants revealing a slender waist and delicate hip-bones.

"F-f-for what?" Blaine stuttered.

"Getting my phone, silly. And look," he unfurled his damp shirt dramatically in front of him. "It's fine! I got the tea out, and this fabulous piece will live to see another day." He smiled broadly, arms straight out in front of him, shifting the shirt jerkily from left to right in front of Blaine's eyes.

Blaine blinked rapidly, his mind still fuzzy from the words he had just read, and getting fuzzier as those words were now superimposed over the image of Kurt's smooth, pale, appetizing torso as the dampened shirt fluttered back and forth between them, revealing tantalizing glimpses of tender flesh.

"Hm?" he asked, distracted, barely aware that Kurt had just said something.

"Are you okay?" Now that Blaine had finally raised his eyes to Kurt's face, he saw that his boyfriend looked slightly concerned.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine!" he responded a bit too enthusiastically. He scrambled off the bed and began gathering his things. "I just, um…I think I should head home. You know, it's getting late, and we have school tomorrow. I'll just let myself out, okay?"

Kurt walked up to him, the shirt now dangling by his side. "Okay…if you're sure you're okay?" He leaned in for a kiss, which Blaine couldn't deny him. But he made it quick and tried not to let himself inhale Kurt's sweet scent, knowing he was already overstimulated. With that, he hurried out the door, his mind in a whirl, and drove home as quickly as possible.

Top Blaine.

Top Blaine.

What else could it mean, right?

Blaine lay in bed, knowing he should be trying to fall asleep, but those two words kept swirling around in his head. For a brief moment, he thought perhaps it didn't mean what he thought it meant. Maybe he misread it altogether. Or maybe it had some totally non-sex related meaning that his hormone-addled brain just couldn't come up with.

The thing was, Blaine had always topped. He and Kurt had only been having sex for a few months, but they had never discussed switching things up. He thought that was the way Kurt wanted it. He certainly seemed to enjoy things the way they were. Blaine knew that he definitely did. Of course he did.

Of course he did.

He loved making Kurt fall to pieces beneath him. He loved everything about making love to Kurt: caressing and kissing him until his body was so relaxed he looked like he was floating; carefully, gently preparing him one finger at a time, making the process as exciting and as stimulating as possible until Kurt was whimpering for more; exploring Kurt with his fingers until he found that one spot, massaging his prostate so that his body bowed and his back curved off the mattress. And of course, being inside Kurt. It was amazing. It was baffling, another world of warmth and tightness and awe.

Top Blaine.

Did Kurt really want that? Did he want to push into Blaine, fill him up and drive them both into a passionate haze until they were lost together, falling into each other blindly? Blaine had always taken the lead, having only slightly more actual experience and a lot more theoretical knowledge than Kurt. But of course it was easy for Blaine to imagine the roles reversed. It was Kurt, after all. Kurt could do anything. He was like a superhero whose power was just being insanely good at everything he tried. He was a natural leader and also a nurturer. He was strong, but gentle, and his hands…his hands…

Blaine didn't recognize the transition, but suddenly he was thinking about Kurt's hands, his long, agile fingers and the softness of his palms. The skin on the backs of his hands was so pale, almost translucent. Blaine loved the way it looked against his darker tan. How would those fingers look disappearing inside of Blaine, pressing and stretching him, exploring to find every possible angle that would make him gasp in pleasure?

At some point Blaine had slipped a hand under the covers and begun absently running it over his boxers, applying a gentle but consistent pressure to his hardening cock. He loved Kurt's hands, especially in the context of having them against his own body. Kurt's fingers trailing innocently down his chest when he leaned in for a quick kiss, or clinging unconsciously to the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened. Sometimes, when Kurt's arms were around his neck, he would fiddle with the base of Blaine's hairline, as if wishing to free it from its gel prison. Other times his fingers would dip downward, sliding from the back of his neck and under the collar of his shirt. This always made Blaine shiver in the best possible way.

Then there were the times when Kurt would rest his hands on Blaine's waist, maybe hook a couple fingers through the beltloops there while they kissed. Whenever Kurt would start to slide his hands under Blaine's shirt, up his sides or back or against his stomach, he always started off softly, tentatively, as if he was afraid Blaine wouldn't want him to touch him. Which was ridiculous because Blaine always wanted Kurt to touch him. And sometimes, after all of Blaine's buttons were undone, Kurt would run his hands over Blaine's chest, more firmly than before, and Blaine could feel the thin curly hairs on his chest being tugged ever so slightly as they slid between Kurt's fingers, and it felt like heaven.

Blaine began rubbing harder, then finally gave in and slid his hand under the waistband of his boxers, wrapping it around his dick. Oh god, Kurt's hands on his dick. The first time, it had been almost like Kurt was scared of it, reaching out slowly as if it was a wild animal that could lash out at any moment. But once his long fingers finally curled around Blaine's hard shaft, he quickly got over his nerves. And it was wonderful. Kurt was very good with his hands. At the time, a small part of Blaine's brain had flashed to an image of the first time he saw Kurt practicing with his Sai swords, and how sexy he had found it. He remembered thinking what talented hands he had, and even though they were just friends at the time (although Blaine had since often wondered if they had ever been just friends), Blaine's adolescent mind had immediately thought of other uses for that kind of agility. And then Kurt touched him for the first time, and he never wanted Kurt to stop touching him.

Blaine reached into his nightstand briefly and squirted a small amount of lube into his palm. He sighed as his hand went back to his dick, the slide smoother, allowing him to grip himself tighter. The lube was soon spread all over the surface, slicked over his entire palm and sliding between his fingers. He wished they were Kurt's fingers. He wished it was Kurt's hand, pumping him steadily, releasing momentarily to cup his balls, sliding just a bit farther until fingertips brushed his entrance. He rubbed gently, the tingle spreading from the point of contact out in every direction. Letting one finger slip just inside, he remembered that Kurt actually had done that once—just once.

He had been giving Blaine a blowjob a couple weeks before, his hands clutching Blaine's ass, fingers digging fervently into flesh, and Blaine was leaning against the wall of his bedroom, trying to keep his knees from buckling, so close. At the last second, Kurt had slid one hand just a bit farther around, letting his finger press against Blaine's puckered hole, the tip just barely pushing in. It had been the one of the best orgasms of Blaine's life, and he had secretly hoped Kurt would do it again at some point. So far, though, there had been no such luck. He didn't bring it up because Kurt had looked slightly embarrassed after that one time, and so Blaine had figured it was a heat of the moment thing that Kurt decided made him uncomfortable. And Blaine wanted Kurt to be comfortable.

But if Kurt really did want to top Blaine, he'd have to get comfortable with a lot more than that. Blaine's finger slipped in a little further, and he grunted softly. He had done this a lot. In fact, almost every time he masturbated he would use at least one finger. Of course, he always wished it was Kurt, fantasized about it being Kurt. But now, with those two words, Blaine was beginning to think it actually could be Kurt.

He came over his hand and stomach with a groan.

Top Blaine.

Oh god…