With his eyes closed, the whole world fell away until all that was left was the presence of Blaine in front of him, his hands and lips on him, and how he felt under Sam’s hands. He let his palms graze over Blaine’s sides as he kissed him. His breath was a little uneven as he felt the kiss break, following his husband’s lips for a moment before he opened his eyes and met with the hazel ones he loved so much. His stomach did a little flip from the way he was being looked and he smiled widely. He could practically feel himself preening over the compliment, his eyes lighting up. “It was a slow process…. trying to get information out of you in bits so you wouldn’t get suspicious.” Chuckling, his hands moved onto Blaine’s back, lightly kneading his muscles before he moved one hand up and buried it into Blaine’s hair, humming in pleasure from the attention to his neck and collarbone. “I do think you should play me another song before we get too distracted. Something like Sexual Healing,” He joked, grinning wryly. “No, no, play what ever you’re feeling. If it’s peppy or sappy or sexy, whatever you want.”
Surprised, Blaine pulled his head and upper body back slightly, but left their hips touching. “Get information out of me?” Both his hands had been slowly working their way down Sam’s body, one of them making it as far as his ass, so with his higher brain functions therefore somewhat distracted, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what the heck his husband was talking about. He was just about to say so when suddenly he remembered a drowsy, late night conversation about his keyboard back home, what he’d liked and disliked about it. Half-memories of other casual conversations slowly surfaced, and realizing that it had been so cleverly and carefully done touched him even further. “Oh my god, Sam, you’re so smart and - god, I love you so much and I...” He gave up trying to speak quickly, kissing him again, hands roaming. “I’ll never be able to show you what this means to me, but... “ His voice broke off into a groan, as he impulsively rolled his hips into Sam’s, just once, and then he pulled his body away, regretfully, before it was too late. “Since you picked music for now, I’ll try using that.” He gave him a last peck on the lips, carefully restrained.
But as hard as it was to leave Sam, he did feel drawn to the keyboard, and once he’d torn himself from his husband’s arms, he didn’t look back. He ran his fingers over the keys, his mind turning over possibilities, before seating himself. He supposed it was best to play something he knew backwards and forwards, and so he settled on a short classical piece he knew well and had sometimes used for auditions, Liszt's Liebestraum No. 3 in A-flat major.
Taking a long, deep breath, he began to play. It was written, he knew, about love: as he played it now, it was about Sam. His hands were steadier than they had been at first, and as his expression and technique came back to him, so did a sense of self-assurance he hadn’t had in over a year. The music had been in him all along; it always would be, and the only thing better than realizing that, as the last notes faded away, was looking forward to the expression on Sam’s face, the smile he’d been envisioning with every note. Blaine wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before turning back to him, a shy smile of his own spreading over his face.
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