8. HANDS-ON

When Blaine opened his eyes, there was so much in them that Kurt’s breath hitched – an awed smile, surprised thankfulness, relief and raw love. Blaine turned so that they were lying face to face and stroked his thumb over Kurt’s cheek. His voice was rough and silently reverent when he spoke.

“Kurt. This…” he tried to say more, his lips moving over half-formed words, but no sound came. Finally he shook his head incredulously. “Just. Kurt.”

Kurt smiled, happiness bubbling in his chest and making his heart stutter.

“It’s the good type of speechless, I hope?” He teased to cover how moved he was by what had just happened; besides the obvious amazing, erotic, first-time layer – there were so many feelings there, so much unspoken significance to this moment.

“The best.” Blaine blinked and a single tear slid down his tilted face. “How did you know what to do? I mean, how to deal with my stupid block or whatever it was? I didn’t know. I was sure that’s it, that I can’t… I won’t…”

Kurt reached out to intertwine his fingers – wiped with a moist toilette in the meantime; he’d come prepared, thank you very much – with Blaine’s. He’d decided days ago that he wouldn’t tell his boyfriend about the visit to see his therapist, not yet. One day, yes. But now, when their intimacy was so fresh and fragile and complicated, he was afraid to add another aspect, to increase Blaine’s vulnerability even further by admitting he’d disturbed his safe place, so to speak. He still wasn’t sure if it was the right decision – the not telling, not the visit, because that was absolutely brilliant – even after he’d spent quite a while debating it in his head, but he’d decided to stand by it.

“Lucky guess, I think. I realized something was stopping you even though you felt ready, so I thought about your police statement and what you described. I was looking for something similar maybe that might have given you some sort of um… bad connotation with touching like this? And well, there it was. So I decided to try an approach that would be a bit different.”

“Oh…” Blaine’s face was so stunned that Kurt understood immediately he hadn’t made the connection himself. His next words confirmed it. “Oh god, so that’s why, that makes so much sense… Thank you Kurt, for thinking clearly instead of figuring it was hopeless, like I did. Just… thank you. For everything.”

Blaine’s grip on his hand was tight now and his eyes filled with tears, but Kurt pushed on. They needed to set some ground rules – it couldn’t be like this every time they hit a bump in the road. He spoke carefully, choosing his words so that he didn’t sound the least bit judgmental or nagging, but concerned and loving instead.

“You know, I might have realized all of this a lot sooner and saved us both weeks of anxiety if you’d actually told me what was going on and not made me guess. Why didn’t you, anyway?”

Blaine looked away, ashamed.

“I was afraid. At first I hoped I’d be able to fix it by myself somehow, and then I was just scared to lose you. I reasoned that as long as I could hide it and you didn’t realize that I’m basically incapable-”

Kurt shook his head, incredulous.

“Blaine, what are you talking about? You’re not incapable!”

“Well what would you call losing your hard-on when your boyfriend touches you? I was afraid that one day you’d realize you couldn’t have a happy, fulfilling sex life with me. I thought that maybe you’d reconsider… being with me.”

Kurt answered without the slightest hesitation, and he could see Blaine’s eyes widen at his fierce tone even before the words registered.

“Blaine? Let’s make one thing crystal clear right now. I love you. I will love you no matter what. I knew what you’ve been through and what that could mean from the very beginning, don’t you realize? I would love you even if our whole sex life consisted of kissing you and touching your hand, and cuddling in bed. Well, and jerking off sometimes. I wouldn’t mind, do you understand? I have no expectations, never had, and every step further is a gift that I appreciate so much but have never taken for granted. So please, if anything, anything at all ever triggers you, worries you, doesn’t feel right or whatever, just tell me. Please, promise you’ll tell me, Blaine. We can deal with anything, together, but we need to talk. Always talk. About everything. Please.”

Blaine’s lips were on his the next instant, insistent and salty wet with tears that seemed to come out of nowhere. He whispered into Kurt’s mouth, against the skin of his temple, his neck, repeated again and again.

“I promise. I promise. I swear we will talk, always. I love you. So much.”

They were still half-naked and spread out on Blaine’s bed, so it only took a moment for Kurt to end up gasping and strung tight under Blaine, his hands, his lips; submissive and open to the feverish kisses, fleeting touches, words murmured urgently into his skin as if to tattoo it with all the love his voice could convey. Kurt’s cock, which had calmed down and behaved during their conversation, reacted instantly to Blaine’s touch and was now straining uncomfortably within the confines of Kurt’s tight jeans.

It was pure torture in fact, and Kurt was secretly cursing himself for his affinity to such perfectly fitted pants. Sure, they looked amazing, but proved to be extremely impractical in situations like this. He wanted them off now. Or at least opened.

As if reading his mind – and it wouldn’t be the first time – Blaine chose this moment to slide his hand over the clearly outlined bulge in his pants, and Kurt couldn’t suppress a shameless moan that ripped from his throat. Blaine’s fingers were trembling as he mapped out the never before crossed boundary of Kurt’s waistband, his voice gravelly when he finally asked.

“Kurt, can I… just… under-“

“I thought you’d never ask,” Kurt breathed; but it proved to be more difficult than that.

His pants didn’t provide enough space to fit a hand under without cutting off circulation, so the only solution was opening the buttons of Kurt’s fly, which they finally got to among giggles that blew away any awkwardness and nerves. But the moment Blaine’s fingers slid over the only remaining layer of cotton while opening the last two buttons, Kurt’s laughter turned into a gasp and his back arched. Oh god, if he was so crazily turned on already, what would happen when it was skin on skin? Surely this would be the shortest handjob in history.

He was proven wrong seconds later, when – despite his fears – he didn’t fall apart at the first touch of Blaine’s warm, slightly rough hand on his cock. Or at least, not physically. His mind though – it was completely blown. The warmth encompassing him, the gentle, hesitant grip, so different from his own, the fingers thicker, callused; the drag of skin against skin when Blaine started to move his hand, and the look of complete, unrestrained awe on Blaine’s face…

It was all so much, almost too much, but… The damn waistband of his briefs kept getting in the way. Kurt wasn’t particularly small and the tight briefs just weren’t designed for these circumstances. He hissed when the elastic dug into the sensitive head of his cock again. Blaine froze.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

The sheepish look on his face might have been funny if Kurt wasn’t so aroused it was almost painful. He took Blaine’s hand and moved it away, the debate in his head over almost as soon as it began. Self-conscious vs. achingly turned on? Uncomfortable vs. exposed? There was really no hesitation to speak of. Not when he was with Blaine. Kurt looked up at his boyfriend, whose face looked shattered now. He shook his head quickly.

“No! No, Blaine, it’s okay, it’s amazing, just… Would you mind if I-“ he gestured at his underwear, strained over his raging hard-on, a wet spot right under the elastic that compressed him so frustratingly.

There was a second of confusion before Blaine caught his meaning, but when he did, his eyes got huge and he licked his lips unconsciously. Finally, he found his voice again.

“No, go on, I don’t mind, of course I don’t.”

It took all of Kurt’s self-control to ask.

“Are you sure? Honestly, Blaine, please. Talking, remember?”

Blaine tore his eyes away from Kurt’s briefs with visible effort and looked up, his eyes still dazed, but more present now.

“Yes. I’m sure. I want to see you. Please let me see you?”

The pleading in Blaine’s voice made Kurt shiver with need. Not wasting another second, he reached for the waistband of his underwear and pulled it down. A bit of wiggling and it was lowered halfway to his hips, along with his pants, so that nothing pinched or dug into the sensitive flesh anymore. The relief when his cock sprang free was unbelievable, so much so that for an instant he forgot he wasn’t alone. A sharp gasp brought him back.

Blaine was staring; there was no other word for it, but the look on his face made any budding insecurity in Kurt’s mind disappear. Blaine’s eyes were blown almost black, the amber irises barely visible. He was flushed and his mouth hung half-open. He reached and ran his fingertips along the shaft of Kurt’s cock, from his exposed balls to the leaking tip, making him whimper in needy anticipation. The touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets, flew through Kurt’s head out of nowhere. It was immediately lost in the pounding of his heart and his own keening when Blaine closed his hand around him again, unrestrained by fabric now and free to move, swiping his thumb over the tip.

It took only a minute or two – of fluid, increasingly bold strokes, of tingling heat spreading up and over, from Kurt’s belly to his fingertips; of his back arching, his head thrashing, his hands fisted tightly in the duvet. His hips were stuttering, pushing into Blaine’s perfect, perfect grip, heat coiling tighter and tighter in his abdomen until he exploded, moaning loudly, unable to stop the sounds, unable to even try. Wave after wave, pulsing, shuddering, seemingly never ending, longer and stronger than any orgasm in his life.

Coming down from the high in Blaine’s arms was one of the best feelings he’d known. He’d missed this in the last weeks – not even the sexual part so much, just being close, Blaine so open and unguarded, no longer holding back. Kurt sighed happily and nudged his nose against the soft skin of his boyfriend’s neck. Blaine hummed and pulled him closer still, and it felt so good, this safe little bubble of love. So perfect. They lay like this for long minutes, just soaking each other’s warmth, smell, touch.

“I missed you.” Kurt shifted finally to look Blaine in the eyes, and found them bright, happy. “Please, don’t do this ever again, Blaine. Don’t push me away, don’t shut me out.”

Blaine shook his head, his face earnest. “I won’t, I promise. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“I want us to be able to share everything, talk about anything. I need you to talk to me, Blaine. Do you have any idea how scared I am sometimes? I’m afraid that I’ll hurt you, do something that will traumatize you and set you back, that I’ll unwittingly trigger you. I can’t always guess, I need you to communicate what you want and what you feel, baby. Is that all right? I want you to take control and set a pace that’s comfortable for you because now that we’ve started on this path, there’s going to be so much more risk – of miscommunication, making the wrong assumptions, hurt.”

“If I take control when I need it, will you tell me if something isn’t right for you?”

“I will. I promise.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay.”

***

Blaine felt like he was walking on air ever since that November day. After weeks of fear and misery weighing him down, this was like a curse lifted, like dark clouds parting to reveal blue skies and bright sunshine. He wanted to sing and dance and shout from the rooftops that he had the best. Boyfriend. Ever. And that he loved him so much.

Everything was enjoyable. Every Glee practice meant endless opportunities to laugh and talk with friends and hold Kurt’s hand sometimes despite the other people around them. The school musical they both played secondary roles in turned out to be a great success. Their parents took them to Breadstix to celebrate after the last performance, and there was a moment when Blaine felt like it had to be a dream because he was living his perfect dream life now. He had everything he’s dreamed of: love, family, friends, singing and performing, bright future to look forward to… It was only after he came home that night when he remembered that in perfect dream lives teenage boys don’t usually get raped, but surprisingly, the thought didn’t spoil his mood.

Even filling out college applications was amazing, because they did it together, Kurt and him, sitting side by side in the school library and then in Kurt’s room, trading fleeting smiles and knowing glances with sparkling eyes. They knew, knew they were going to New York, together. Wherever they ended up, no matter which school it was, New York was their shared future.

And it was magical to imagine and plan together, once the finished applications waited on Kurt’s vanity to be posted, and they lay on the bed, face to face, hands entwined and smiles dazzling. To know that if nothing unpredictable happened, soon – almost too soon and yet so painfully long still – they will lie together in another bed in a far away city, a bed that they’ll get to call theirs, in a tiny apartment that they will share like so many other things. Their space, their time and food and utilities, their lives. Together. Under one roof.

They hadn’t talked to their parents about living together, not yet; not wanting to jinx it somehow before the letters of acceptance came. But they discussed it and they were both ready to convince their families, to fight for it, if necessary. In this new, exciting, yet a bit scary world of college and New York, they would need each other more than ever.

Sectionals came and went, and Tina’s breathtaking solo, followed by an explosive group number, ensured that they qualified for Regionals. Blaine felt such a connection with these people now that he could hardly remember not knowing and loving them before. Sure, Warblers would always be like brothers to him, a small, supportive army of strong voices and caring hearts, somewhat formal, bound by their rules and upbringing, but wonderful nonetheless.

With New Directions, it was something else. Each person in this group was different, each was special in their own way. They argued and fought, then they talked and laughed and loved each other. Their dynamics seemed to change daily; alliances, friendships and relationships came and went. It was crazy and dysfunctional, but it felt weirdly like a family, being a part of it. It felt like being accepted for who he was. And Blaine was grateful for this, for them, every single day.

Time flew, filled with school and Glee, family and friends. Suddenly it was Christmas, which they spent separately with their families, each reveling in their last holidays at home while they actually lived there.

New Year’s was celebrated at Mercedes’ with a wonderful New Directions party. They danced, sang and had a lot of fun despite being the only ones who chose to drink only a symbolic sip of champagne each. Kurt had never really felt the need to drink and Blaine had sworn alcohol off after the assault. Anything that lessened his control over his body and mind was a bad idea and induced panic attacks.

Then Valentines came. They spent it in the most cliché way possible, dinner at a small Italian place – at least it wasn’t Breadstix this time – and a movie afterwards. Blaine was going to plan something more extravagant, but this was what Kurt wanted, just a normal Valentine’s Day date, like the one he’d hoped for and never got last year.

Both Kurt and Blaine expected they’d be all over each other every time they managed to be alone, now that they knew what they could do together, how far they could safely go and how amazing it was. But surprisingly, not much changed. They didn’t suddenly try to get into each other’s pants every chance they got. Well, sometimes they did, when they had the comfort of time alone in one of their houses, and circumstances that allowed them to be slow and careful, open, unrestrained in their – very vocal – reactions. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, they explored and learned their bodies with awe and delight; they studied reactions and preferences, gently examined the boundaries where comfortable territory ended in order to make each other feel safe and cared for.

They talked, a lot. About things that felt right and not quite so, yet. About what they wanted to try, soon or one day in the future, or maybe never, because Blaine couldn’t tell how far he’d be able to go until he hit an invisible wall that wouldn’t budge anymore. His body and mind still reacted intensely sometimes. When Kurt was giving him a backrub once, and in a moment of relaxed carelessness straddled his hips to get better access, he found himself on his butt on the floor mere seconds later, Blaine panicked and breathing hard against the opposite wall. It was a reflex he couldn’t control.

Another time, in a more intense moment, Kurt – frustrated with the half- lowered pants that kept restricting his movements – whined that maybe they should get rid of clothes altogether. Blaine answered no immediately, without thinking or hesitation – he hadn’t realized earlier that this boundary was there, loud and clear. And they talked about it – about feeling vulnerable and defenseless, about him having been undressed against his will. About not being ready and maybe some time in the future, and on his own terms. And it was fine.

And then there was a day when it was Kurt who said no.