CHAPTER 12

Lunch with Meg was loads of fun. Now that she knew that Blaine was gay, she kept teasing him about not giving her a chance, but there was no awkwardness or discomfort between them. Music was the main topic, of course, the two of them debating various college choices, with Blaine actually taking notes. Meg knew a lot about all the best places to study music and musical theater in New York, and in a few short months all the information would prove priceless when Blaine was deciding where to send his college applications.

Then the talk took a turn toward practical exams and performances, and before Blaine knew it, his new friend had convinced him to go to an open mic event with her that night and try his hand at charming the New York audience. They parted, promising to meet at eight, and the excitement that accompanied Blaine the whole way home reminded him of his first weeks as the lead singer for the Warblers, where every rehearsal and every performance, even just in the Dalton common room, made his heart pound and soar.

Oh yes. Performing was when Blaine felt happiest.

He spent the afternoon going through songs he thought would be fitting for the occasion, bouncing around the house until Cooper threatened to cut his coffee supply. He also called Kurt to ask, shyly, if he'd be interested in going with them, but Kurt was already deep in designing mode, absentmindedly rambling about corsets and purple lace, so in the end, it was only Blaine and Meg. Well, and the audience of about a hundred people.

When he came home late that night, Blaine felt as if he floated on a cloud. Not only had the audience loved his singing, applauding loudly and calling him back for an encore, but the owner of the bar approached him after his numbers to talk. He asked Blaine if he'd be interested in coming to play for three or four hours one night the following week. He wanted to pay him and all, and if Blaine did well, he'd have a chance to play two or three nights a week for the rest of his stay.

Which would be amazing – a chance to earn his own money and get some experience, maybe even references. Meg, impressed and happy for him, told him it would look great on his college applications.

Lying in bed that night, Blaine considered calling Kurt and telling him all about his evening, but in the end he decided against it. He'd tell him in person. He wanted to see Kurt's face lighting up with that proud smile of his when he heard.

Grinning, Blaine switched off the lamp and closed his eyes.

The reality proved to be disappointing.

Most of Sunday passed without a word from Kurt, his phone going straight to voicemail. So in the afternoon Blaine went to his apartment to share the news and, hopefully, celebrate – with hot coffee and a steamy make-out session at least. Instead, he found Kurt by his kitchenette table, surrounded by empty coffee cups and dozens of drawings, his hair a mess and dark circles around his eyes. He was still wearing the same outfit he had on in the coffee shop yesterday.

Kurt barely looked at him over yet another sketch of a female figure wearing some sort of a complicated dress, and when he did, it took him a few seconds to register who he was looking at. His smile was tired, but bright when he finally did.

"Hi! Were we supposed to meet today? I'm sorry, I got the most inspired idea ever and I just had to get it all on paper while it's still fresh. Theatricality in everyday clothes, Blaine, what do you think? Something for those who like to dress with flair. I just need a little more time and then I'll be with you."

So Blaine waited, practicing the songs he planned to play at the bar on Thursday, changing and perfecting his songlist until it looked just right. But over three hours had passed and Kurt still hadn't moved from his seat, his pencil gliding and whispering across the paper with increasing speed. Finally, everything went quiet and Blaine looked up from the keyboard, hopeful.

Kurt was asleep with his head on the table, his eyes closed and the pencil about to fall out of his loosening grip. He looked exhausted. A warm wave of tenderness rose in Blaine's chest. He got up from the piano and went to gently take the pencil away. It was enough for Kurt to wake up with a start. There was smudged graphite on his cheek and the lines of the topmost, unfinished sketch looked shaky and imprecise, but he wasn't about to give up easily.

"Just a minute, 'm almost done," he mumbled, his voice scratchy, and Blaine decided it was time to put his foot down.

"Mm, no, baby. That's enough for today." He'd never used the endearment outside of his head before and it surged in a warm wave through his chest, so much better when out in the open. "Come on, let's get you to bed. You're too tired to even draw properly. Get some sleep, you can finish when you rest a bit."

Kurt grumbled a little, but he clearly didn't have energy to protest as Blaine helped him up and into the bedroom. Undressing Kurt who'd gone limp and heavy against his chest was another level of intimacy that Blaine had never thought of before. Far from sex or romance, this felt like pure loving care, one that partners or – the thought daring but not unwelcome – husbands could share.

Kurt was asleep before his head hit the pillow, and Blaine tucked him in and spent a long moment just looking at him – the vulnerable beauty of his face, his strong arms, the line of his long neck. Then he softly kissed Kurt's cheek, closed the bedroom door and went to tidy up the kitchen. He washed the dishes, put the sketches in a neat stack ordered by numbers Kurt had put on them and cracked the window open to let fresh air in. Then he slipped out of the apartment and returned home, a little sad, but with love glowing like hot embers in his chest.

But even the love and tender memories of Kurt's soft features as he fell asleep weren't enough to cancel out the nasty mood that Blaine woke up in the next morning. He knew it had plenty to do with the disappointment of Kurt not even asking how the open mic had gone. And while he scolded himself for being selfish and unreasonable, the feeling was there anyway. So he decided to run to the gym and try to sweat out the stupid, childish need to throw a tantrum.

He boxed some and then worked out until he was barely able to stand straight, his body and clothes soaked in sweat. But he felt better afterwards, finally able to accept his feelings with no grudge against Kurt. It felt right; healthy. He could deal with his disappointment like a man, not a pouty kid.

His phone rang just as he was opening his locker to take out his toiletries and head for the shower. Kurt. Blaine looked at the clock overhead – it was barely ten. But then again, he put Kurt to bed before eight last night.

Kurt's voice was low and urgent when Blaine picked up.

"Hi. Where are you?"

"At the gym. I was just going to shower and go home."

"Ohmygod." It was basically a moan. Certain parts of Blaine's anatomy proved that they weren't tired enough not to react immediately. "Forget the shower, I need you here right now."

"But Kurt, I'm sweaty and disgusting..."

"You can use my shower, but move your sweet ass and come here now."  Kurt's tone thrilled deliciously in Blaine's blood and he swallowed a whimper, mindful of other guys in the locker room.

"Okay. I'm on my way."

Half an hour later Kurt let him in and Blaine barely had time to open his mouth to say hello before he was pressed roughly against the front door with Kurt devouring his lips without the tiniest attempt at finesse. Blaine had never seen him like this, practically growling with desire, and it was like wildfire for him, flaring in a matter of seconds until he whimpered and clutched at Kurt's hips.

But as soon as he did, his arms were lifted and shoved against the wood overhead. Kurt held both his wrists easily with one hand, his grip tight but not enough to hurt, while the fingers of the other hand tangled in Blaine's hair and tugged his head back to stretch his neck. Blaine felt his hips buck uncontrollably when Kurt's hot tongue swirled down the slope of his throat. And then Kurt's teeth scraped none too gently on the side of his neck and the last of thoughts in Blaine's head sizzled to nothing.

He wasn't sure how exactly it happened but some time later he was naked against the door, wanting nothing more than to come as Kurt, still fully clothed, was kneeling in front of him, kissing and sucking at the crease of Blaine's thigh, his balls, never reaching his aching, leaking cock.

There was something not quite right though, some thought trying to push through with annoying insistence, and finally it hit him: he was still sweaty and possibly smelly from over two hours of his workout.

The thought was enough for him to stir uncomfortably and try to stop Kurt's enthusiastic exploration.

"Kurt." Another shot of overwhelming pleasure distracted him, but he tried again. "Kurt, wait, no, I need a shower. Come on."

With a disgruntled grumble Kurt stood back up and kissed his lips, deep enough for Blaine to get a hint of musky, sweaty taste on his tongue. Oh no. Ew. He should have showered before coming here after all. He always took care to be fresh and nice before every date, especially since he sweated quite a lot. And now that Kurt had seen him – tasted him! – like that, he would probably be disgusted and never want to be with him ever again and –

"Okay, if you insist. But suck me first."

Ngh. It was the firm, commanding voice again and Blaine was already switching their positions and dropping to his knees, all self-consciousness forgotten the moment Kurt opened his fly and lowered his pants just enough for his cock to spring free. The head was rosy and shining with precome in a way that made Blaine's mouth water. He reached to touch, but Kurt shook his head, making him whimper with anticipation.

"No, no hands. Just open your sweet pretty mouth and take it, I'll do all the work." As if to confirm his words, Kurt took his own cock and circled the tip over Blaine's eagerly open mouth, smearing the moisture all over his lips. "Don't come, no matter what." He dove into Blaine's mouth, careful not to choke him, but deeper than ever before, and spontaneous combustion suddenly became a real possibility because holy shit.

Kurt's cock stretching Blaine's mouth enough to make his jaw ache, sliding in and out at a slow, controlled pace and filling him perfectly; Kurt's fingers tightening in Blaine's already loosened curls; the discomfort of hardwood under his knees grounding him enough to keep him from exploding – everything was a blur of pictures and sensations. Kurt's eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in pleasure. The salty flood of come on Blaine's tongue. The trickle of it down his chin as Kurt withdrew while still pulsing, to avoid pushing too deep on reflex.

Blaine dug his nails deep in his own thigh to keep from flying over the edge, and took it all. Graciously. Eagerly. Never wanting to stop.

He whined when Kurt's hands pulled him up. His knees protested the position he'd put them in, but he didn't care. He'd do it again. He'd do a lot more.

Kurt kissed his swollen lips. "Thank you, beautiful. That was perfect – you are perfect. Now go shower quickly and I'll take care of you when you're done. Don't bother with clothes."

It was possibly the fastest shower of Blaine's life.

When he got out, Kurt was in the bedroom, pacing. It felt a little weird to be stark naked and painfully, obviously aroused with Kurt being fully dressed again, but only for a moment, until he took Blaine in his arms and kissed him. The soft cotton of Kurt's shirt caressed Blaine's skin, the jeans of his pants was slightly scratchy and exotically new, and waiting for whatever was about to follow filled Blaine with sweet anticipation.

What would that be? After their talk two days ago, he knew it could be anything.

He learned soon enough. Kurt turned him so that he faced the bed, and pressed a few kisses to the back of Blaine's neck and shoulders. Then he withdrew half a step. When he spoke, his voice was soft, but with the same commanding note that made Blaine's blood sing.

"Bend down, legs wide." Kurt pushed him gently so that Blaine bent in half, his forearms resting on the bed. Heart pounding, he moved so that his legs were spread and the realization what he must look like made him shiver with arousal. He felt so exposed, on display, and Kurt must have liked that, judging by the throaty groan Blaine heard behind him, followed by a whisper of discarded clothes.

Kurt was getting naked.

Would they–? Would he lose his virginity today, in the most definite of ways?

He couldn't wait.

***

Naked and bent over Blaine, Kurt kissed down the perfectly toned, muscled back, down to the the twin dimples at the small of it. He took his time, licking and grazing with his teeth while Blaine whined impatiently and pressed back against Kurt's cock, already half-hard again.

God, he was so gorgeous, so perfect, all exposed and trembling with anticipation. Kurt ghosted his fingertips down over the dusty pink dot of Blaine's asshole – so lovely, untouched and wanting – and his heart fluttered, moved by the display of trust and desire. Blaine keened at the contact.

"So pretty. You're so beautiful like that, Blaine." Kurt kneeled down and kissed the swell of Blaine's delicious round ass, played with the firm curves for a moment, but the pink asterisk was too tempting to resist. He sucked at his finger and slid it down the crack; no pressure, just a soft stroke, and Blaine gasped.

"Kurt, are you going to –" The rest was lost in a hoarse moan as Kurt's tongue followed the path his finger had taken, tasting the clean, soap-smelling skin and reveling in the exploration.

"You're so tight, so perfect," he murmured, licking languidly over and around Blaine's entrance. "So fucking hot, Blaine, so ready for me. I could slide in just like that." He pushed his tongue past the barely resisting muscles, Blaine's shocked cry of pleasure shaking his small frame. Kurt speared his tongue in and out a few more times, Blaine's constant keening spurring him on, before retreating and kneeling lower to mouth over his balls. "I could finger you open right now..."

"Oh god, yes, please yes, do it, I want you, want you so much..." Blaine was babbling, trying to push against Kurt's fingers, but Kurt had other plans for now. Still murmuring praises and filthy little offers, he moved to push his tongue into Blaine's asshole in earnest now, pumping in and out at a fast pace, backing out every few strokes to dance his tongue around the rim.

Blaine's voice was loud, louder, his ass pressing back against Kurt's mouth, his hands fisting in the duvet. And then, when all of Blaine's muscles were drawn taut, trembling on the cusp of falling, Kurt paused.

Everything stopped for a heartbeat.

Until his finger slid in, slow but deep, and Blaine cried out and clenched around it, causing Kurt to moan at the shocking tightness as Blaine was coming and coming and coming, his cock untouched.