6. PASSION

Blaine wakes up, stretching leisurely and smiling to himself. It’s Monday and he doesn’t have to go to the office. He’d hated that job. Well, okay, maybe hated is too strong a word, but he had been dying of boredom there. It was dull and uninspiring, at least for him – the creative, artsy type. He knows that he needs something completely different. He wants music and creativity, change and challenges, and a certain degree of freedom. It’s time to start looking for a new job.

He stays in bed a while longer, just because he can, his fingers wandering over sleep-warm skin until they accidentally drag over a nipple, making him gasp. Ooooh, right. He remembers now; maybe he could... His mind set on experimenting, he teases both nipples and immediately they harden, even more sensitive. With a squeeze the wave of pleasure goes right to his quickly hardening cock. One hand is smoothing down his stomach to his balls, the other stroking and scratching lightly over his chest, his neck, exploring and searching for erogenous zones. He never bothered doing this before, had always jerked off quickly when he really felt the need, but after those nights with Kurt he’s realized there’s so much more to this.

Still not giving in to the urge to touch his cock, which is steel-hard now, Blaine does what he denied himself for years: starts thinking about men – imagining a toned male body, a perfectly shaped ass, a mouth stretched over his cock. Full, red lips with familiar blue-grey eyes over them, looking up through lowered eyelashes. Kurt’s eyes.

It feels wrong, so wrong after the last two innocent, perfect days. Kurt is his friend after all and Blaine really shouldn’t jerk off to a mental image of him. But whoever he tries to think of, Kurt’s image keeps returning, raising the temperature of Blaine’s blood every time, more than anything else. He’s the only man I’ve seen naked, he reasons. The only man I’ve been with, it’s natural to see him when I imagine sex, I have no other point of reference.

As if taking this as a permission, his brain recalls the feeling of Kurt’s mouth on his neck, his come smeared over Blaine’s chest and, oh god, Kurt’s cock in his ass. The reaction is so intense he groans and his hand moves to his now aching cock almost involuntarily. He slides his fingers over the head, gathering the pre-cum, and strokes himself slowly, moaning at the overwhelming sensations, memories playing in front of his closed eyes. It could be Kurt’s hand pumping him, faster and faster, it could be his finger sneaking toward Blaine’s ass, teasing and causing him to whimper, applying light pressure to the tight entrance. Except Kurt’s finger wouldn’t be so dry and uncooperative.

He needs lube, but he has none, so this will have to wait. Settling on teasing, stroking and massaging his perineum and entrance, Blaine jerks himself off at a steady pace with the other hand, shivering, moaning, heat coiling tightly in his belly, closer and closer. And then he recalls Kurt’s bedroom voice, lower and rough, and the sounds he had made under Blaine’s hands, his mouth, and suddenly Blaine is coming with a cry, waves of pleasure washing over him, much more intense than any other time he’s gone solo before. The thought that what he cried as he climaxed sounded very much like his friend’s name is quickly pushed deep, deep where he won’t have to think about it.

So, he thinks standing in the shower under streams of hot water moments later, there’s much more to masturbation than I thought. And he hadn’t even start deeper exploration. Now that could be fun. Lube. Definitely buy lube today.

With his shower and breakfast out of the way, Blaine sits down at the table with a notebook to plan out his job search. He knows he wants to work with music and he needs a place where he would have certain amount of freedom, a job that would challenge him and make use of his innate creativity. He considers his options, making notes.

An hour later he’s looking through job offers on the internet and in newspapers, and in the afternoon he goes into the city with his guitar and a file full of copies of his resume under his arm. He’s relatively optimistic about the whole thing; it will probably take more than a day or two, but he is confident he will find the perfect job. He has to. Everything has changed so fast, so much of it for the better, this is another thing he has to brave and do. He just needs some courage and persistence.

Two weeks later Blaine’s persistence is on its last legs and he begins to doubt himself. He’s been scouting the offers and touring the city every weekday and nothing. Nothing. Nobody’s even called. Everywhere he goes he hears the same thing. They can’t take him, because he has no formal education in music, or no experience, or there’s nothing there that fits his skills. But if he maybe wanted to do something more along the lines of business or management… well, he’s got excellent education and experience there. Except he doesn’t want to have anything more to do with those. He’s sick of it and he just wants to do what he loves, and be paid for it, even if it’s a fraction of what he could earn otherwise.

It’s Monday again, two weeks later – another failed day, and Blaine feels himself sliding into depression. Kurt’s constant absences due to his temporarily heavy workload aren’t helping either, he can’t even whine to him over wine or drinks. They’ve only met during weekends the past two weeks – Blaine has been keeping his promise and joining Kurt every time he’s gone to the group house; he loves it more every week. At least there’s a chance they’ll get to spend more time together now – Kurt is finishing the last photo session today and will be free for the rest of the week.

Walking home through a part of town he hasn’t visited since college, Blaine chances upon a place he used to love, but then completely forgot about: Red Robbie’s Record Shop. It used to be the best record shop he’d ever been in, and he’d been to many, traveling with his parents. The owner, middle-aged, smiling man with long red hair and a beard, seemed to have – or be able to get – any record you could dream of, and he knew everything about music. Blaine found many hidden diamonds in this vast, dusty shop. There was always music on, usually fairly unknown bands and singers, many of whom Blaine has since seen succeeding and becoming stars. Red Robbie had known his trade. On impulse, Blaine decides to enter the shop; he’s in a terrible mood, some good music could definitely make it at least a bit better. Besides, he’s curious to see if anything has changed in the three years since he was here last.

The inside looks just as he remembers it, the same man sitting by the counter, smiling – if possible – even more than he used to. He doesn’t look a day older than when Blaine saw him last. Blaine leaves his guitar in a corner and starts looking through high shelves for records that may interest him. The shop is unusually empty today – he remembers days when it was hard to squeeze between the shelves without pressing against someone, with long lines to the register. But that was usually in the evening, when students milled around, and not in the middle of a sunny spring afternoon like today. Red Robbie joins Blaine after a moment.

“Looking for anything in particular?”

“No, just something to brighten the mood.”

Robbie is apparently in a talkative mood this afternoon.

“Bad day?”

“You can say that. Just, job searching sucks, you know?”

“Ah.”

They talk for a while, about music of course, diving deeper and deeper into discussion about styles, artists, debuts, song writing. Robbie recommends a group or two, plays samples on the shop’s excellent sound system. They’re brilliant and exactly Blaine’s style. Finally the man glances at the guitar in the corner.

“You play?”

“Yeah. Guitar, piano. I sing too, and write songs. But it’s not enough to get a music related job apparently.” Blaine laughs bitterly. He’s exhausted every possibility he could think of by now. He may not have much choice but to accept a business position after all. So much for his creativity and freedom.

“You want to work in music?” Red Robbie raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s what I was hoping for. I guess it’s not gonna happen though. I may have to go back to what I’m actually educated for and experienced in.”

“Which is?”

“Business and management.”

“Hm.”

Blaine looks up, hearing the tone of the other man’s voice. It’s… thoughtful, that’s it.

“Hm?”

“Sing me something. Something I’ll know and then something of yours. You’ve got the guitar and there’s a keyboard behind the counter.”

Blaine blinks. He feels like he’s auditioning for something, but what? No matter, he’ll show what he can do. He chooses two songs and performs, passion alighting his blood as it always does with music. Robbie watches him with an unreadable expression. He nods his head when Blaine switches off the keyboard.

“You’re good, kid, really good. You’ll go places if you only persist and keep working hard. Believe me, I can see these things. And you know stuff – not as much as I do, of course, but you’re at least twenty years younger, so you have time to learn. So, would you like to work for me?”

 Blaine is still bouncing around his apartment when Kurt calls him back.

“Blaine, what happened? You sounded frantic in your message.”

“Nothing bad. Are you home already?”

“Not yet, just wrapping up the last shots. I should be back in an hour. Why?”

“We need to celebrate.”

“Wait, wait… you got a job?” Excitement sneaks into Kurt’s voice.

“Yes! And an amazing one!”

“Oh my god, that’s wonderful!” Blaine can almost see the wide grin on Kurt’s face. “I’ll grab champagne and come straight to your place. Unless you want to celebrate out?”

“No, here will be perfect. I can’t get too wasted, I’m starting work tomorrow.”

“Already?” Blaine starts to answer, but Kurt interrupts. “No, wait, don’t tell me, they’re calling me for the final shot and I want to hear everything. I’ll be there in an hour tops!”

Kurt’s there in 45 minutes instead, hugging Blaine hard as soon as he opens the door, and pushing two bottles into his hands.

“Here, already cold. Feed me first though or I may die. I’m starving. You’d think they expect models to actually live on a carrot and some yogurt. Okay. Tell me everything. Now.”

Blaine laughs and fixes pasta for them both – he hasn’t eaten dinner yet in all the excitement and cooking is another thing he’s discovered that he enjoys – while describing his day.

“Robbie’s wife is expecting, and since they’ve been trying to have a child for over ten years, he wants to spend much more time at home. The business is great, but he hasn’t found anyone he considers worthy of taking over the shop yet, and he thinks I’ll be just what he needs. It’s awesome, Kurt! I can choose music to promote, playing it in the shop, or I can sing there myself whenever I want, even for customers. Apparently it’s good for business. Every week there’s a small concert there, and I get to choose what band or singer gets invited – to be approved by Robbie, of course. And in the quiet time I’ll be able to work on my own songs. And it actually pays better than I expected. I accepted immediately, of course. I’m starting tomorrow, Robbie wants to train me as soon as he can, since his wife is due in a month.”

They eat, Blaine still talking about the record shop, almost bouncing with excitement, and he loves that Kurt just gets it, asking questions and laughing and congratulating, honestly happy for him. That’s one of the things that make them such good friends – they share the passion, the enthusiasm for things they love, they don’t settle for just enough, but fight for more, for what they dream of – Blaine might have suppressed it for years, but it’s there, it’s in his nature and Kurt knows him well enough to recognize and encourage it.

The champagne is cold and bubbly and flows fast, they laugh and talk and dream aloud, and Kurt is so beautiful it hurts, with his eyes all sparkly and his cheeks flushed pink. So it’s no wonder really, is it, that close to midnight, when Blaine is alone again and comfortable in his bed with the newly opened bottle of lube in hand, ready to experiment some more at last, Kurt’s face is what comes to mind. When his slick hand closes around his cock, Blaine imagines Kurt’s pink lips there instead, and his hips buck uncontrollably. And when a finger finally breaches his entrance, sliding easily inside, quickly followed by a second, in his mind it’s his friend’s hand, preparing him to be taken, claimed as his, and a shameless moan rips out of Blaine’s throat.

The experiment turns out to be a huge success.