CHAPTER 7

The club didn't look like Blaine had imagined it would after reading the superlatives about hot strippers and excellent atmosphere, and how it was the classiest of the "easily accessible" ones. For one, the area looked shady, to put it mildly; the street was narrow, dark and littered, and the buildings on both sides in rather desperate need of repair. The bar itself, called Rainbow Unicorn of all things, had a recent coat of paint on the front, but it didn't improve the first impression much. There was loud, pounding music pouring out the open door, and a meaty, middle-aged man with a hung-over look, who didn't even pretend to check the people coming in. He was leaning against the wall with a bored expression, like he was there just for show. Which he probably was.

It was just after ten thirty when Blaine arrived, since he didn't want to come too early. The volatile mixture of excitement and nerves that had been making him giddy and jumpy all day was currently turning into a heavy weight of anxiety. Suddenly, he had doubts – nothing so bad it would change his mind, but enough to exhale with relief when he saw a small coffee shop on the other side of the street from the bar. He'd just drink some coffee, maybe eat a sandwich or something since he'd been unable to swallow a bite of his dinner tonight, and then man up and go into the Unicorn.

The little old lady who brought his latte (though it looked – and tasted – suspiciously like bad drip coffee with plenty of milk) to the table by the window asked in a conspiratorially lowered voice, “Do you want condoms, too?"

"Excuse me?" Blaine felt himself getting beet red; the waitress could have been his grandma.

"Condoms. We sell them. It's quite a business since they always seem to have their vending machine broken or empty." She jerked her head towards the building opposite. "Plenty of young people come to buy them here. Do you want some?"

"Um, no, thanks. I'm good." He didn't need condoms, he wasn't going to–

Ugh, maybe it was a bad idea.

The waitress shook her head sadly and left him alone, and Blaine settled for watching the bar on the other side of the street and sipping his coffee.

Within the next hour, as his brain was gradually taking over, he'd seen enough to dismiss the idea of going in entirely. There were kids clearly no more than fourteen going in without the bouncer batting an eyelash. There was a small alley next to the bar where every now and then giggling, half-undressed couples disappeared, only to return moments later. There were at least half a dozen people dropping by the coffee shop to buy condoms, some of them clearly regulars. It was every possible cliché about sad, seedy gay bars possible – and the night was still young; Blaine didn't even want to think what it would be like later.

At midnight, he got out of the coffee shop and called for a cab. He owed someone an apology.

Blaine let himself into Kurt's building, but once he reached the apartment door, he found himself stalling. He wanted to apologize, to tell Kurt that he'd been right, but he kept running out of words – everything sounded stupid and not enough after his yesterday's tantrum. Maybe he should just go home instead and try tomorrow? It was late, anyway, and –

Recognizing his hesitation for what it was, Blaine took a deep breath and just knocked. Ready or not, he wouldn't chicken out like a scared kid.

The door swung open seconds later, revealing Kurt – pink-cheeked, messy-haired, with slightly dazed eyes and two top buttons of his shirt open, flashing an expanse of fair skin. For a short, terror-filled moment Blaine wondered if he interrupted something; Kurt looked so sexy, loose and relaxed in ways which Blaine wasn't used to. But the surprise on Kurt's face was a happy one, at least until fear clouded the blue of his irises and furrowed his forehead.

"Blaine! Are you alright?"

Oh. Right. Blaine nodded quickly, all the rehearsed words of his apology forgotten. Kurt was worried about him.

"I'm fine, everything's fine. I know it's late, I just wanted to apologize for behaving like a brat yesterday. I'm sorry, Kurt, I –"

He didn't finish as a strong hand took his and pulled him into the apartment, right into Kurt's embrace. He heard the door shut behind him, but didn't pay it much attention because all of his senses were suddenly filled with Kurt: his scent, the heady mixture of products and something so very him; the softness of his skin against Blaine's cheek and the strength of Kurt's arms around him; the steady, strong heartbeat he could hear so clearly as he pressed his face into the crook of Kurt's neck.

For a long while they just stood like this, until Blaine felt his tense muscles relax, the anxiety flow out of his body easily, all at once. The realization that it had been years since he'd been truly hugged by anyone shocked him – it'd been so long that he'd forgotten how much of a comfort it was, how perfect it felt. It wasn't even because it was Kurt – it was the simple, basic act of being hugged, held close by someone who cared about you, without any erotic context. He let out a shaky breath and Kurt's arms tightened around him for a brief second before releasing him.

Kurt looked at him curiously, still so close that Blaine could kiss him just by leaning slightly forward. He resisted the temptation.

"You don't smell like a bar. Cooper said you planned to be out until late tonight, I thought –"

Blaine tried to look away but couldn't, lost in the stormy-blue trap of Kurt's eyes.

"I didn't go. I mean, I did, but I didn't even go in." He shifted awkwardly. "You were right, Kurt. That’s not what I want. Not like that."

However he'd expected Kurt to react ("I told you so"? "Good to know, now go, I have more interesting things to do"?), the soft heat of his lips had never been part of it. Yet here it was, a kiss like the one that made Blaine a helpless addict after the first taste last week, and he took it without question, diving into the sweetness and the passion that was Kurt unrestrained, until his mind finally caught up to his senses and he broke the kiss, a little breathless already.

"Kurt. Kurt, wait. Are you drunk?" He hated to deliberately give up this closeness, but Kurt tasted like orange juice and liquor, and Blaine wouldn't use his moment of weakness if it was something he would regret later.

Kurt sighed and moved away to the kitchen, where he took a half-empty glass of orange liquid from the counter and emptied it at the sink.

"A bit. I was worried." He turned back to Blaine, his face soft. "And when I'm worried, my imagination takes over and – I just needed to distract myself. I don't want you to get hurt, Blaine."

Blaine couldn't tear his eyes away from that bit of skin peeking from Kurt's open collar, from his lips, kiss-red and lush. Arousal was spreading through him in a buzzing wave and he tried to reign it in, but it wasn't easy, with a view like that right before his eyes.

"I'm fine, don't worry – and I'm not going there again, I promise." He answered distractedly.

"I don't just mean that, though." Kurt took the few steps, closing the distance between them again. He lay his hand over Blaine's heart, making him draw a shuddering breath. "I don't want to hurt you. But... I like you way more than I should, and I want you so much that it's indecent, and I shouldn't tell you this, but clearly my filter is off tonight. And it would be much safer if you went home now."

He was whispering just millimeters from Blaine's lips, his every breath raising tiny hairs on Blaine's neck with delicious shivers, and oh, was he saying what Blaine thought he was saying?

"You should go home and come back tomorrow when I'm sober and in control again, responsible enough to resist you because that's what I'm supposed to do here."

Blaine felt light-headed, his blood thrumming with desire. "What if I don't want to go?"

Kurt was breathing fast and shallow. His hand tightened into the fabric of the henley on Blaine's chest, the other slid up the side of Blaine's neck to tangle into the loose hair on the nape of his head, making him moan quietly in the back of his throat.

"What if I hurt you?" Kurt's eyes were wide and dark, searching.

Blaine took a deep breath. "I'll take that risk."

His arms closed around Kurt's waist, pulling him into another kiss.

***

Kurt was drunk, that was true. But it wasn't the level of drunk where his brain was incapable of making decisions and his body took over, feverish and carefree. It wasn't the kind where he woke up in the morning hung-over in a stranger's bed, wincing and angry at himself, because he didn't do mornings, and certainly not with random guys whose main appeal the previous night had been that they'd been there and interested.

No, it wasn't that kind of drunk. It was just the kind where the world seemed simple and fuzzy around the edges; where everything felt light and bright, every feeling and thought clear, distilled. It was the state where Kurt's overly analytical brain took a break from his worries and his body reacted with pure enthusiasm, forgetting about boundaries and social expectations.

The point was, Kurt knew exactly what he was doing – he just consciously chose not to care. By the time he allowed himself to melt into Blaine's embrace, he'd already absolved himself for following his instincts and accepted any and all potential consequences. And now, he only focused on experiencing.

Kissing Blaine was like erasing years of sex just for the sake of getting off – all those guys, dozens of them, that meant nothing in the long run – and returning to the pure, unadulterated joy of intimate contact. This was how it felt; this was what Blaine felt like. Blaine, who put all of himself into kissing, passionate yet innocent, making Kurt feel it everywhere, from the hairs rising on the nape of his neck to the tingling in his toes. It felt like nothing else mattered, like kissing wasn't just a means to an end – and with a start, Kurt realized that for Blaine, it wasn't. No matter what it was that Blaine actually felt for him, he seemed eager to take however much or little Kurt was ready to give him, and enjoy every second of it.

Kurt had no idea why this was proving to be such a turn-on for him – not Blaine's innocence and inexperience, but his lack of expectations. It reminded him of years ago with his first few boyfriends; all the fun of exploring and learning, before sex had become something mundane, almost routine. His pants were getting increasingly tighter already, his knees quickly getting to the point of feeling weak, and it was just kissing, jeez...

"Bedroom, come on." His voice sounded rough and gravelly even to his own ears and Kurt didn't wait for a reply as he took Blaine's hand and pulled him in the right direction. Kissing while horizontal was better, after all.

It was better; it was incredible – with Blaine stretched under him, whispering his name like a prayer while Kurt took his time kissing and licking down his neck and across his collarbones, as far down as the neckline of his henley allowed. Blaine's hands were flexing against Kurt's back, little moans escaping him as his hips jerked up against Kurt's thigh every time he discovered another particularly delicious spot of Blaine's skin, and after a while it just wasn't enough – Kurt needed more like he needed air. He pulled back to look into the golden eyes beneath him.

"Tell me what you want."

"To see you. Please." The answer was immediate and Kurt was pretty sure he understood, but he wanted to be certain.

Okay, he just wanted to hear Blaine say it.

"See me how?" His voice was even lower now and Blaine's breathing stuttered for a moment before he specified.

"See you... naked?" It came out as a question with Blaine's voice breaking at the end, as if he was afraid to even ask for so little.

Of course, what wasn't much for Kurt was a whole new world of experience for Blaine, and Kurt was more than eager to accommodate him.

He used to be self-conscious about his body, but that was years behind him now; he felt good in his skin. So there was no hesitation in his moves as he slid off the bed and quickly unbuttoned his shirt before shrugging it off completely and reaching to open his pants. Blaine's wide-eyed expression was full of awed adoration, and god, Kurt loved seeing what effect he had on him.

Without any silly striptease moves (he'd tried those, once, and felt absolutely ridiculous; it just wasn't him), Kurt slid down his pants, his hands quick and well-practiced. He heard a sharp intake of breath when he bent to take them off completely, and when he straightened back up, Blaine was squirming on the bed, clearly uncomfortable in his deliciously tight jeans. Kurt swallowed a moan; his cock was twitching in the confines of his navy briefs at the thought of Blaine hard and aroused. He wanted the boy so much – to see, touch, taste... To unravel him over and over again; to make him feel wanted and happy, and loved.

Whoa, slow down, tiger.

He pushed his briefs off and climbed back on the bed. "Do I get to see you naked too?"

***

Kurt hooked his thumbs under the elastic of his briefs and Blaine let out a choked sound, his hand flying to press against the fly of his jeans by its own volition. He was about to see him at last, and fuck, it felt like this was enough to make him come. In one fluid motion, Kurt slid the briefs down and off, and then there it was. Kurt’s cock – large and thick, gloriously hard, with pubic hair neatly trimmed – it was so much better than Blaine had imagined (and he'd imagined plenty), so much more amazing than what he’d ever seen in porn. He could hear his own needy whimper, could feel his own cock ache with desire, but he didn’t care, too busy committing this moment to memory. Kurt, naked and more beautiful than any man Blaine had ever known, standing there just for him. It felt like he’d died and gone to heaven – and if this was heaven, he didn’t mind dying at all.

He heard Kurt’s low, slightly breathless voice say as if through a thick fog, “Do I get to see you naked too?”

The bed shifted and the next moment Kurt was kneeling in front of him, the head of his cock swaying not two feet from Blaine’s face, and if he could just lean in and taste… The thought alone was like pouring oil on the flames of his need.

"Yes." Whatever you ask me to do. However you want me.

He jumped off the bed, awkward in his rush, Kurt's eyes on him making his face heat up. His henley was on the floor in seconds, his jeans joined it after a moment of graceless, hurried fight with the tight legs, and then he hesitated just for a second before losing the boxers, too, and for the first time stood completely bare in front of another man.

If he felt uncertain at first, a shadow of self-consciousness, one look at Kurt's flushed face was enough to smother it completely. He was kneeling on the bed and stroking himself slowly, watching Blaine with dark, hungry eyes.

“Gorgeous.”

Just one word, but it meant more than all compliments Blaine had ever received put together. Biting his lip, he got back up on the bed, his cock brushing against the covers, causing a sharp hiss to escape his mouth. God, he was so aroused it hurt. And the fact that Kurt’s hand had sped up and soft little moans were escaping his lips now didn’t help in the slightest.

Blaine was about to settle back against the headboard when Kurt reached and pulled him closer instead, and before he realized what was going on, they were kneeling face to face. And then his hand was put in place of Kurt’s and he was so shocked that he froze. Blood was pounding in his ears, his breath was coming in shallow little pants and only Kurt’s hoarse whisper in his ear brought him back into action.

“Come on, beautiful, you can do whatever you want.”

The words were followed by a sharp little bite to his earlobe, centering him again. Summoning the last shreds of his composure, Blaine focused on Kurt – on his cock heavy and impossibly smooth in Blaine’s hand, just a little too thick to encircle it fully in his fist; on the way Kurt closed his eyes and moaned when he moved his hand experimentally. Their position wasn’t exactly comfortable, so Blaine improvised, inspired by his dreams and fantasies.

“Can you lie down?”

Kurt did so immediately, leaning back until he lay on the pillows, and reached to the bedside drawer for a bottle of lubricant that he pushed into Blaine's palm. A bit of fumbling with the cap and then Blaine was kneeling by Kurt's side, one hand stroking him with growing confidence, the other daring to ghost over Kurt’s neck and chest, circling a nipple, tracing a collarbone. He acted on instinct, experimenting with touch, grip, speed, and listening for feedback, stubbornly focusing on Kurt only, ignoring his own desperate need. He wanted so much more, wanted to lie down beside Kurt and kiss him everywhere, taste his skin and his sweat, and – god, yes – his come. But it felt so intimate, too intimate when Blaine had no idea what it was between them. For all he knew, for Kurt it might be just another hook-up, a one-time thing, and while he was happy to have even this, he restricted himself to hands only. Getting too far, too deep, would just hurt too much when Kurt told him tomorrow it had been a mistake.

Judging by the way Kurt was moaning, almost keening constantly now, Blaine must have been doing something right. He watched, fascinated, as Kurt’s pink nipples tightened into hard little buds, as the muscles in his belly started to tremble and his back arched. But then Kurt opened his eyes and whispered Blaine, and his warm, firm hand was on Blaine’s cock, and it felt like it was created just to be there, the perfect touch. Barely a few strokes and Blaine felt the hot press of his orgasm gathering, rushing through him. He tried to move away, to avoid splashing come all over Kurt’s perfect skin while still stroking him with a hand that was shaking now, but Kurt stopped him immediately.

“Stay, I want you to – Stay here, yes, god yes ­– “

Blaine wasn’t sure which one of them came first. Everything was muted and yet so intense – blood pulsing hard through him, red darkness as he squeezed his eyes shut, sticky warmth and the bliss that felt more perfect than anything, ever.

***

Kurt felt honestly stunned. In all his years in New York, he’d had plenty of sex: a few boyfriends, multiple one-night stands, even one fiancé. Want, desire – they were nothing new to him, and he hardly denied himself, even though the last weeks had been uncharacteristically chaste. But it’d been years since he last felt like this, his blood boiling just from kissing, touching, seeing his lover's reactions. It took every ounce of his willpower not to try and slide his cock between Blaine's puffy lips, so invitingly parted in awe as he watched Kurt strip the last bit of his clothing.

And Blaine probably wouldn’t have said no, he knew. But Kurt was very aware that he couldn’t do this. Even if he put aside all the other doubts he had – the age difference, Cooper, all that – Kurt, even when tipsy, was way too responsible to do anything more than what they just did. Blaine was a virgin. Kurt, though always careful, had an extensive sexual past. He wouldn’t put the boy in danger, no matter how improbable. Before they went anywhere further – if they would – he needed to make sure he was clean. This was the first thing he thought as soon as he came down from his earthshaking orgasm (and god, what was it with this boy? It was just a handjob, how could it have felt more intense than any sexual experience he’d had in a long time?)

Blaine was still trembling and dazed, kneeling by his side, and Kurt sat up to embrace him and gently pull him down to the bed beside him. They lay there for a long while, breathing heavily, barely touching, but connected in the way good sex can accomplish. Kurt was starting to doze off, lazily contemplating just pulling the duvet over them and cleaning the mess in the morning, but then he felt Blaine shifting away from him and sitting up. He opened his sleepy eyes.

The boy looked contented and a little shell-shocked, but he was already reaching for his clothes on the floor. Kurt felt a little pang of regret – yes, he hated the morning awkwardness, and usually preferred to part ways with his lovers right after sex, but tonight he felt like snuggling, and Blaine was warm and beautiful, and smelled so nice… Shaking off the unusual bout of feelings, Kurt stretched and asked.

“Are you going already?” A beat of hesitation, then, “You can stay if you want.”

Blaine wouldn’t look at him, and this was never a good sign. Sleepiness suddenly forgotten, Kurt sat up on the bed, concerned. Did he miscalculate? Misunderstand Blaine’s eagerness? Did he take advantage of him, god forbid?

“Blaine?”

He looked at Kurt then, and his eyes were warm and full of emotion, a smile on his face small and shy. He seemed alright.

“I'm gonna go. I don't want Cooper to worry if he wakes up, and… I think it’s better if I go now, okay? Thank you, Kurt.”

Kurt nodded. A soft, silly part of him wished it wasn’t so, wanted to convince Blaine to stay, but he shushed it. This was better.

“Thank you. And be careful on the way back, okay? Send me a text so that I know you got home safely.”

“I will. I’ll be fine.”

Dressed already, Blaine hesitated a second before opening the bedroom door. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before settling on a soft “Bye.” Before Kurt could answer, he was gone. Only the sound of a key in the lock let him know that Blaine let himself out and locked the door behind him.