With the TV off it isn't dark in the lounge room, it's just a different kind of light. The slow fade of hundreds of tiny Christmas lights: first red, then blue, yellow and green. Transitioning lazily and the shifting, twinkling silhouettes amplified by the flicker of almost burnt out candles on the coffee table. Blaine looks stunning in it: shadowed and flickering, the lines of his face sharper—cheekbones, jaw, the crease of a dream between his eyes—the curves softer—the slope of his neck, his lips, his temples. Kurt's fingers tangle in Blaine's loose curls and he tilts Blaine's face to better watch the light play across the roughness of his stubble and the flutter of his eyelashes.
Kurt's breath catches.
It's almost Christmas and it will be their first living together. They can't quite get over that: the coming home to each other and this tiny apartment every night. Even though there's no space for a tree, Kurt has done his best with garlands and ornaments, all picked up for cheap or free from work or friends. In the corner they've made space to heap up the Christmas gifts. Their official shopping is done but that doesn't stop either of them from sneaking one more gift home, wrapping it and leaving it nudged up against the others.
It's late, probably after midnight and there is nowhere better than here, wrapped up around each other on the couch. Kurt reaches for the remote and the muted television is switched off as he continues to stroke through the soft curls framing Blaine's face, still staring at him.
Maybe it's the Christmas lights casting phantoms of color across Blaine's skin, maybe it's the red wine they had earlier, maybe it's nothing special at all. Blaine looks remarkable, stunning, beautiful, and Kurt's heart races, he forgets for a second to breathe, and his whole body throbs with a love-drunk ache.
He swallows and lets his thumb trace across Blaine's temple, feeling the slow beat of Blaine's pulse mismatching against his own. Blaine's eyelashes—beautiful, long, devastatingly soft, one of Kurt's many fixations—flutter and then open and Blaine smiles a sleepy, happy smile at him.
"Hey," he whispers roughly. "Movie finished?"
Kurt hums instead of replying and pushes his fingers into Blaine's hair, loosening the last vestiges of product that the curls have been battling since this morning.
"Wanna go to bed?" Blaine asks, stretching and grinning a grin that means sex, or at the very least a valiant attempt to kiss each other to orgasm before sleep takes them under.
But Kurt can't quite bring himself to look away from the way the transition from red to blue makes Blaine's skin glow and his still-sleepy eyes seem a brighter brown than usual.
"I want one of my Christmas presents now, I think," Kurt ends up saying, his lips already quirking up, his voice playful.
Blaine laughs and twists our of Kurt's lap, stretching himself out before settling at the other end of the couch, pulling his knees to his chest as he rakes his hands through his hair. "Which one?"
"None of those," Kurt tells him, mouth now curved into a perfect dirty grin, one that is unmistakable to Blaine. One that makes Blaine's whole body tense and then relax, a leg falling off the side of the couch so he can roll his hips and let his shirt ride up, a hand coming up to scratch over his belly as he waits.
"You'll give me anything, right?" Kurt asks, voice low, still teasing.
"Of course."
"Anything I ask for?" Kurt shifts to his hands and knees, still staring at Blaine, eyes moving across his face as the colors of the room shift.
Blaine laughs and wonders what he's in for, feels his cock already stirring at just the possibility of an idea. "Anything," he says.
"You'd blow me right now?" Kurt whispers and that makes Blaine's brow crease which in turn almost makes Kurt giggle.
