House Unity Verse, or if you're only just joining me on this merry sex journey, Slytherin!Kurt & Hufflepuff!Blaine. They're dating, and that's basically it, you don't need to read the others to actually understand this one.

This is written chronologically AGES after "If The Earth Mixes With The Sea" and in it they have an established sexual relationship. I am planning on going back to write the awkward fluffy first time sex, don't worry. I just wanted to get this out of my head.

WARNINGS: Mild bondage. Also rimming, fingering, sex, swearing etc, etc. The general porn stuff.

Summary: Kurt's tense, so Blaine…uh….eases his tension.

With ties.

Trust me, I don't own them.

Kurt was having a Bad Day, and Blaine knew without either of them saying anything. He found himself so finely tuned to the Slytherin's emotions recently that every flinch or flicker or spasm of anger and frustration that crossed his face registered in Blaine's mind.

He held himself taller all day, hands clutching the leather strap of his bag, chin high and his face twisted into the bitchiest glare he could muster. Blaine saw first years of every House scrambling to get out of his way as Kurt marched down the stone corridors towards Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Kurt?" He said quietly, when Kurt was within earshot. Kurt fixed him with a stony glare and held up his hand to cut him off.

"Don't, Blaine. Just, don't."

But he didn't move his hand away when Blaine twisted their fingers together under the desk as they sat down, and that was a small comfort.

"Now, we're going over Combustion Curses today," Professor Schuester to a tide of groans, "No I know! I know they're easy and we've done them before, blah blah blah. But we need to start recapping the essentials before your exams. Now…Mr Hummel, if I recall rightly you were the best in the class at Combustion Curses the first time around."

Blaine felt Kurt's fingers grip his tighter, as he stared straight at the board over Schuester's head.

There was a pause.

"Could you…ah, maybe come up to the front and demonstrate?"

"I should probably sit this one out today, Sir."

Schuester frowned; even the worst of the Slytherins usually did what he asked.

"Mr Hummel, I wasn't asking. I was telling," He said, gently but firmly.

Kurt's jaw was set, but he pushed his chair back with a sharp squeal, dropping Blaine's hand as though it was burning him, and marched to the front.

"You remember the aim? Cause one minor part of a larger object to combust without inflaming the rest?" Professor Schuester continued clearly oblivious to the tense angle of Kurt's shoulders; the furrow between his brows. Kurt gave a sharp nod.

Blaine was praying silently, gripping the edges of his chair. Sure Kurt was one of the best students, but Blaine had seen him lose his temper. He knew exactly what Kurt was capable of when he was in the wrong mood.

"Flagrate!"

Schuester's desk exploded in a shower of red sparks sending shards of flaming debris over the front three rows of students, most of whom had fast enough reflexes to throw themselves out of their chair, or at least dodge the fiery wood that flew their way.

The few who were unlucky enough to actually catch flame were quickly extinguished by a flood of water from Schuester's wand, dousing the entirety of the class as he quickly worked to settle the sudden pandemonium.

Blaine wanted to laugh, but he looked up to the front, past the fire and the water and the laughing, screaming students. Kurt was gone, and the classroom door was slamming shut in his wake.

He decided to let him calm down and visit him later, but when Kurt didn't turn up in the Great Hall at lunch and Blaine was confronted by a furious Santana, he changed his mind.

"Where's Hummel, Anderson?"

"I don't know, Lopez. Where's Hummel?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she moved in closer prodding her manicured finger right into his chest.

"Don't get smart with me Anderson. Hummel got a letter from his Dad this morning, okay? He's bound to blow up at some point today, and if you piss him off so help you god, because –"

"He already blew up!" Blaine said quickly, because even when she was alone and surrounded by confused Hufflepuffs at the wrong lunch table, Santana was still terrifying.

"What?"

"In Defence Against the Dark Arts. Kurt…blew up a desk and then left. I was going to visit him later but…"

"No, nuh uh," she shook her head violently, yanking him to his feet by his tie, "You go visit him now. He didn't even turn up to Potions, and Sylvester was furious. So you go find him, go down on him, and send him back to class, okay badger-boy?"

"I don't like it when you call me that," Blaine mumbled, pulling his tie from her vice-like grip and grabbing his bag from the floor.

"I don't care. Just go," and she was pushing him from his own table, towards the doors. He turned when he reached them, and saw Santana sitting in his vacated spot next to Brittany, helping herself to his abandoned lunch. One Slytherin amidst a hundred Hufflepuffs, and she clearly didn't give a fuck.

"Kurt?"

Blaine tapped his fingers tentatively against the wooden door of the Slytherin Dorms, immensely grateful that the entirety of the House was at lunch and afternoon lessons. Their relationship had been public for months, but that didn't mean Blaine was any more comfortable sneaking into the Slytherin Common Room on a regular basis.

"Kurt baby, come on. I know you're in there."

There was a sigh from the other side of the door, and Kurt pulled it open a fraction.

"I'm not really…"

"I know, Kurt. I know, I just wanted to see you and…well I wanted to make you feel better."

Kurt sighed again, considered, and pulled the door open wide enough to allow Blaine entry. He closed the door and leaned back against it.

"I got a letter from my Dad this morning. But I don't really want to talk about it."

His face was still drawn tight, the sharp v between his eyebrows deepening. His lips were pressed firmly together, as though locking in a scream, or a sob.

Blaine crossed the room to stand in front of him, hands cradling his shoulders and neck, "Hey. It's okay, we don't have to talk if you don't want to."

Kurt's face crumpled slightly as their eyes met.

"Blaine," he choked, "I just…I just want…"

Blaine kissed him softly, once, twice, running his tongue over Kurt's lower lip for a second.

"What do you want, Kurt?" He breathed against his cheek, his thumbs smoothing gentle circles into the skin of Kurt's neck.

"I –" But Kurt seemed to give up trying to communicate vocally, and pressed his lips to Blaine's with such urgency that he stumbled back slightly, tripping over the robes and socks that littered the floor of the boys' room.

"I just want you," Kurt gasped, breaking their kiss but keeping their faces close, "Please Blaine. Please just take care of me."

Blaine curved his finger over Kurt's cheek, smoothing the skin out.

"Of course I will," he whispered.

They fell sideways onto Kurt's bed, landing awkwardly with elbows and feet in all the wrong places, but Kurt was clutching at Blaine's shirt, trying to pull it off without undoing the buttons and Blaine found himself cursing the existence of school pants, and their need for two buttons and a zipper.

Blaine pushed himself up, rescuing his wand from the folds of his robes on the floor and pointed it in the vague direction of the door, muttering "Defigo."There was a click as the door locked itself, and Blaine turned back to where Kurt was laying, suddenly gloriously naked across the dark sheets of his bed, his clothes strewn across the floor.

Blaine leaned over him, one hand either side of Kurt's face.

"Do you trust me," he said his voice little more than a throaty whisper, thinking of the safe-word they established a few months ago and knowing Kurt was too.

There was no hesitation in Kurt's face, no question as he nodded hard. Blaine kissed the tip of his nose, propping his weight onto one hand as the other groped along the floor, searching, searching, until it found what he was looking for.

Blaine ran his tongue across Kurt's lips, pushing between them to stroke across the backs of his teeth, the roof of his mouth, kissing harder and rougher to draw Kurt's attention while their hands grasped together over Kurt's head.

Blaine had always been good at multitasking.

And when he drew back with a final, settling onto his knees with one arm aching from holding him up, Blaine was rewarded with the most tantalising thing he had ever seen.

Kurt's arms were stretched out high over his head and Blaine had tied one wrist to each bedpost, one with his own yellow Hufflepuff tie, and the other with Kurt's green Slytherin tie. Kurt tugged at each experimentally, biting his lip when the knots held firmly.

His body was almost colourless on the black of the sheets beneath him, stretched long and slender; a streak of alabaster flesh with colours at each wrist and his legs spread to accommodate Blaine between them, open and wanting. His skin flushed a richer shade between his legs, flushing to a darker rose pink up the length of his cock.

Kurt's tongue darted out slightly to touch his lips, and their eyes met. Trusting. Waiting.

Blaine lifted Kurt's leg to hold over one shoulder, and touched his lips lightly to the knuckle of his ankle. He ran his tongue slowly up the calf, pressing harder at the juncture of Kurt's knee, tongue dipping behind the joint for just a second, before continuing up the back of Kurt's thigh. He pressed Kurt's legs open even further as his mouth trailed up Kurt's inner leg, feeling him tremble slightly beneath his lips.

Blaine's nose was inches from where Kurt's cock stood, hard and bobbing slightly against his belly, but Blaine ignored it. He sucked a purple mark into the crease of Kurt's thigh, biting harder until Kurt jerked slightly, hips rising off the bed. Blaine pressed the flat of his palm to Kurt's lower stomach, holding him down as he repeated his ministrations on the other leg. His cheek scratched along the slightly coarse hairs of Kurt's leg, rubbed along where it faded into the silky smooth of his thigh, admiring how the skin quivered under his warm breath; how it seemed to relax under a soft kiss but jolt beneath a bite.

By the time Blaine's mouth returned to the juncture of Kurt's thighs Blaine could hear him breathing a little harder. He glanced up to see the rapid rise and fall of Kurt's bare chest, the way his mouth hung open a little too wide, red and wet and shining.

Blaine pushed Kurt's legs open, his feet flat against the bed and knees drawn up, until he was spread open and beautiful beneath him, and their eyes met and Blaine wondered how the hell Kurt was managing to blush while he was in this position. He knew now that the red that bloomed high on Kurt's cheeks flooded down to stop just below his clavicle.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

He knew there was lube in the drawer of Kurt's dresser, knew that it would be quicker to use that lubrication spell Kurt had taught him, but Blaine wanted to do this all himself.

With one hand flat on his thigh and the other on the base of Kurt's spine, angling his hips upwards, Blaine lowered his mouth below Kurt's cock to slip his tongue into the crack of his ass, along his perineum and back, until it was damp with split and Kurt let out a broken moan as Blaine's tongue lingered over his hole, pressing gently for a second, before running back up. Each lick was wetter than before, harder, until Kurt was split-slicked and each breath was a gasp.

Blaine's fingers trembled as he coated them in lube, and he was harder than he ever had been before but he pushed the feeling away. This was for Kurt; this was all, always for Kurt.

His finger brushed Kurt's entrance, and he immediately bucked into the touch, pressing down as much he could, seeking Blaine's finger.

"Fuck, Blaine!"

He let his finger push in, slowly, rubbing the mess of lube and saliva and sweat until all up to the base of Blaine's knuckle was encase in Kurt's hot, tightness. Blaine lowered his body to rest over Kurt, balanced on one arm.

"Okay?"

There was a pause, and Kurt nodded as though not trusting his voice. Blaine caught his eyes and held them, their gaze unflinching, unbroken as Blaine slid his finger in and out, before easing a second in beside it.

Blaine crooked his fingers upwards slightly, pressing hard on the bundle of nerves that sent Kurt's body arching upwards into his with a cry.

"Yeah?"

"God! You have no id…fuck, yes! Blaine, yes, yes…"

Blaine pumped his fingers faster, crooking and twisting them every so often to hit Kurt's prostate, changing his rhythm to prevent Kurt from meeting his thrusts with bucking hips. He slowed to a torturous pace, stilling his fingers completely but holding the pad of his index finger just there, until Kurt sobbed, pushing his hips downwards with a feeble desperation, attempting to fuck himself on Blaine's fingers. His hands strained frantically at the ties at his wrists, trying to clutch Blaine closer, to force him to move, anything.

"Fuck, Blaine please, just harder. More. Anything, oh god. I want….I need you to…please, just….oh!"

Kurt was rambling into his ear as Blaine dropped his head lower, pressing his cheek to Kurt's jawbone and brushing a kiss just under his ear. A thigh pressed between Blaine's legs, pushing upwards against his aching neglected cock, and he swallowed a groan, rutting slightly against Kurt's leg.

"What do you want, Kurt? Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"Blaine, anything, do anything. Just fuck me or…please fuck me."

Blaine pulled back just far enough to see the wanton desperation in Kurt's eyes, the way he bit his lip raw, the long arch of his neck straining backwards as his body moved with Blaine, gravitating towards him but restrained by the wrists. His cheeks were stained red, his eyes wild and begging.

"But Kurt," Blaine said softly, pressing harder on his prostate until Kurt let out a keening whine, "Why would I fuck you, when I've got you spread out like this underneath me? I can do anything to you."

"Oh god," Kurt was trembling, every inch of him.

"You love it, don't you," Blaine continued, moving his fingers again, "You love being at my mercy. You love that right now I can do anything to you."

"I do," Kurt whispered, "fuck, Blaine. I…"

"It's okay, Kurt," Blaine pulled his fingers out of Kurt gently, stroking over his hole one last time before wiping the excess lube onto the sheets beneath him, and bringing the hand up to cup Kurt's face, "I love you."

Kurt nuzzled his cheek into the warmth of Blaine's hand; his fingers calloused from Quidditch, clumsy, stroked gently over Kurt's cheekbone.

"I love you too."

Blaine kissed him once on the lips, backing away before he could lose himself in Kurt's kisses. He grabbed the lube and coated his fingers in a generous amount, letting it drip messily between his legs, onto Kurt's sheets as his hand felt below his cock, slipping further down, brushing two fingers against his own hole, pushing, pressing one then two.

Blaine's head fell back, the sensations at once too much, yet not enough after denying his arousal for so long. One hand itched to fist his own cock, but he resisted, clutching hard at the sheets pooled around his knees, pumping two fingers in and out of himself. He was working quickly, ignoring the painful stretch and burn because he needed this.

Blaine's hips were jerking to meet his own thrusts, eyes falling shut and his breath catching hard in his throat and it wasn't until Kurt groaned in front of him that he remembered what he was doing.

Kurt's eyes had darkened, and he was staring at Blaine with unashamed arousal blossoming over his face. His hands were pulling at the ties again, and Blaine knew he was yearning to reach out and touch Blaine himself, to hold him and replace Blaine's fingers with his own. Kurt was growling in frantic desperation as the knots refused to give, veins throbbing in his arms.

"God, Blaine if you could see yourself," Kurt panted, his voice husky.

Blaine pulled his fingers from his own body and crawled over Kurt, legs straddle over his hips until he was crouching over him.

"You're quite a picture yourself, Hummel."

Blaine closed his fingers around Kurt's cock, smoothing the excess lube over it, warm and heavy in his hands. Kurt whimpered, shamelessly fucking Blaine's tight fist, shuddering as Blaine ran his thumb over the weeping slit, pressing just under the head. He felt sweat drip down the back of his neck, run down his spine.

He sat up straight on his knees, positioning himself directly over Kurt's cock, one hand reaching backwards to spread his cheeks apart and the other holding the base of Kurt's cock, and slowly, surely, lowered himself down until Kurt was sheathed entirely within him.

They were shocked into complete stillness for a moment, heads thrown back in mirrored gasps. Kurt's hands clutched at the ties, so at least he was holding onto something. Blaine shifted against the welcome intrusion, the feeling of absolute fullness that set every nerve in his body on edge and on fire.

Blaine eased himself up, setting into a rocking rhythm of hips and jerks and bouncing in Kurt's lap until his hips began moving too, and they crashed together over, and over. Blaine's head was buzzing; a pit of fire had awakened deep inside him and every movement, every thrust and grind of Kurt's skin against his, Kurt's cock inside him, sent sparks flaring through his body. Every touch and movement lit a fire along Blaine's skin until he was sweating and panting and trembling and he lost his rhythm, but it didn't matter because Kurt was there. And Kurt was thrashing beneath him, meeting him with every thrust and every bounce of hips, and he was moaning and screaming and shouting Blaine's name, just his name, over and over and over.

Blaine felt like a bowstring, pulled to taught and held there for so long, ready to snap and break and crash in waves and fragments, again and again, and Kurt was with him, his back arched into a delicious curve, sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat, his voice cracking with every hoarse moan of Blaine's name.

One of Blaine's hands managed to find his own cock, and it was dry but there was friction and movement, and three touches later he was coming in spurts up his own chest, over his hand and dripping onto Kurt's hips. He felt himself clench around Kurt, tighter than before and with one last moan Kurt's body froze in a perfect ark, mouth open and gasping. Blaine felt himself filled with a warm, sticky wetness, pulling himself off Kurt as the fullness became too much, dripping and damp and falling forwards onto Kurt's chest as his thigh muscles gave out completely.

Fingers fumbled over their hands, wrenching at knots pulls too tight by Kurt's movements, twisting at the fabric until it came away completely, and then Kurt's arms were around him. Kurt's fingers were in his hair, and their chests were sticking together with come and sweat and they were too hot, too sticky, too tired to do anything that wasn't lie together and breathe, and breathe.

"I love you," Blaine managed to gasp out into Kurt's neck.

"I know. Who else would do that for me?" Kurt mumbled into Blaine's sweaty hair.

"I just thought you might –"

"I know. And I did. Thank you."

"Do you want to talk about…whatever had you so tense?"

"Not really."

Blaine thought about propping himself up to look Kurt in the eye, but his arms felt too heavy, too heavy to do anything other than lie across Kurt's body.

"Kurt, you should really talk about it. I mean, I can't do that every time you're pissed off."

Blaine felt Kurt's chest rise and heave with a sigh, "Anderson just shut up and let me sleep for a bit, okay? Because we've got to be down for dinner in two hours and you know that if we don't clean up properly than Santana will give us that look, because she knows."

"Santana always knows," Blaine muttered, kissing Kurt's neck over, and over because fuck, he loved this boy so fucking much.

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