17.

Blaine wants to cry, everything stuffed inside for months choking him, but he can’t. He wants to let go, to stop trying, there’s simply too much of everything; things and feelings and hate, pain and guilt. He’s tried so hard to keep it all in that now he just can’t stop, even though he wants to. Even his voice has trouble getting through, coming out strangled and raw. He needs something simple. Something real.

“Fuck me.”

“What?” Kurt’s eyes are huge, almost scared.

“I need you to fuck me. Please, Kurt. I need –“

“But… but we haven’t done this in so long. Maybe we should… take it slow?”

“Kurt.” His voice is broken, a half-sob really. “Please. I need to feel you. I need to feel.”

Kurt’s eyes are sharp, inquisitive on his; Blaine feels as if he’s looking into his very soul, measuring, searching… For what?

Whatever it is, he must have found it, understood it, because his face softens into this loving look that always warms Blaine to the core. Kurt smiles.

“Okay. All right, I… I’ll take care of you. Just let me. Let go, just take. Let me in.”

So Blaine does. For the first time in months he allows himself to let go of everything, not holding onto any of his masks and facades, not trying to fit into any mold or image. Just be. Maybe not even this. Just… feel.

Kurt kisses him, all heat and passion; just lips first, his tongue gaining access and conquering, taking back what’s always been his. His kisses are fierce, but never rough; the teeth on Blaine’s neck, lips sucking hard on the clavicle, marking. It’s not the usual gentle slide of Kurt’s soft skin; this is just a notch harder; more pressure, touches with more nails and nipping with teeth, as if showing Kurt’s there, as if reestablishing his rule and ownership, in the best way.

Their clothes come off under Kurt’s attentive fingers, Blaine’s skin being rediscovered again, every single inch of it, with hungry kisses and fervent touches. Kurt’s breath over him is fast and shallow, interspersed with little moans when Blaine arches and shudders soundlessly, the bulge in Kurt’s briefs hard and hot against Blaine’s thigh. It’s everything he needs now, just this, nothing but this. Kurt’s hands are pulling down Blaine’s pants and boxers in one go.

There’s a gasp and a pause then, a wet hitching of Kurt’s breath and even without opening his eyes Blaine knows why. The clusters of cuts on his thighs, some so very fresh, the skin around red and raised. That’s it, he thinks. This is where Kurt realizes just how­ fucked up Blaine is; where he says he can’t do this. He dares to look, because he suddenly needs to see his fate in Kurt’s eyes, in their color ever-changing like the sea. Will they be stormy grey now, or aqua green? Or maybe the gentle blue of forget-me-nots?

They’re none of these, it turns out; it’s all liquid silver as tears fill them, reflecting the cold winter light from the window. And when Kurt leans down, two tears drop, as if in slow-motion, on the marred flesh where they sting briefly, and Blaine gasps because he can feel it, down to the core. But the next instant Kurt’s lips are right there instead, soothing, tracing the cuts so gently, each and every one of them and something in Blaine’s chest lets go, some impossible knot unravels because he’s forgiven.

Kurt’s lips don’t stop now, going up again, quick licks over Blaine’s balls, tongue swiping up the shaft and he wants to moan and whimper and beg, but he can’t, feeling mute and choked up, so he just lies there and takes in all the sensations. Kurt’s mouth sinking down on him, deep and practiced, sucking hard, his tongue swirling around the head. Kurt’s hand caressing and fondling his balls, sliding down without preamble and Blaine whimpers internally because they’re never that fast about it, they take their time, but now, today, that’s exactly what he needs and Kurt somehow knows.

A click of the lube bottle, hidden where it’s always been and nearly unused since Kurt’s departure, and then there are fingers against Blaine’s entrance, slick and warm, sliding inside two at once. And it stings and burns so perfectly, the waves of sensations warming up Blaine’s blood. Kurt makes a quick work of it, much quicker than ever before, sliding and stretching and crooking right there, and then there’s the third finger, just a moment too soon and perfectly right, and then they’re all gone, right as he feels almost prepared, and Kurt is reaching to the drawer for a condom.

Something grows hot and daring in Blaine’s chest then and the words are out before he can even realize what he’s saying.

“No, Kurt… without? Please?”

There’s just a bit of hesitation before Kurt asks, “You trust me that much?”

And it’s never been an issue because of course he trusts Kurt, so he just nods. Kurt breathes a deep, shaky breath. They’ve never done this before.

“Okay.”

There’s a squelchy sound from the lube bottle and the next instant Kurt’s cock is against Blaine’s entrance, pushing in slowly enough not to hurt too much, but not enough for it to be completely smooth; and the stretch, the pleasure-pain of being filled and taken is just what Blaine needed. It’s hot and tightly fitting, and amazing with the feeling of skin instead of latex, everything just more like this, and if Blaine could find his voice, he would keen and gasp, but he can’t, not yet, so he arches and clenches his hands on Kurt’s shoulders instead.

Kurt doesn’t pause to let him get used to the feeling again after so many months, and Blaine’s so grateful for this. Because with everything rolling and whirling and boiling inside, he needs more – more sensations, more to feel, more friction and pressure. So when Kurt sets a fast pace from the beginning, it’s just what he wants – everything hard and deep and perfectly angled, and Kurt’s hand working him in quick, fluid motions, and Blaine lets himself be swallowed by in, drowned in feeling, as if making up for all the time he’d lost, for everything else that he could have lost, but miraculously didn’t. It coils tight and low in his belly, his balls, tighter and harder and hotter, yet still there’s no sound in him, no way to release the pressure that’s been building up for so long.

Kurt’s voice is a growl in Blaine’s ear as he pounds into him, his movements jerky and dominating.

“Let go, Blaine. I’ve got you, let go.”

Everything clenches then, stronger than ever, painful, and then releases, tearing out from Blaine’s throat in a long, raw cry as he’s coming all over his stomach. Everything that was filling him with darkness and pain until there was no more room for hope, flows out now, leaving him empty and shaking and lost. But then Kurt moves in him again, slower now, gentle, and oh yes, there he is. He’s not alone. Kurt’s got him, he’ll catch him if Blaine falls again. And when Kurt’s hips stutter seconds later, once, twice, Blaine can feel him spilling into him warm and there, all life and colors, and love.

They lie down together afterwards, Blaine’s face hidden on Kurt’s chest as he cries, long and hard. Kurt’s silent, just holding him, because he doesn’t even have to tell him, Blaine knows now. He’s there. He will be there. Blaine just needs to ask, to reach for his hand whenever he needs it.

He’s already sore after the sex, more than ever before, more than after their first time even, and it’s exactly what he wants, what he needs now. To be reminded that Kurt’s got him, every time he moves. It’s like an anchor that holds him down in a place of hope. And when he falls asleep, his last thought isn’t Maybe I won’t wake up. It’s Maybe when I wake up, I’ll get a step closer to being better.

It’s four hours later when Blaine wakes up, feeling better and more like himself than he has in weeks. Before he can start to wonder, an arm slung over his waist tightens, pulling him closer against warm chest, and even without the melodious voice saying Hi, sleeping beauty, he would recognize Kurt by the way his own body immediately relaxes into the familiar one behind. So it wasn’t a desperate dream then. His mind, so clear now, and his aching body only confirm that. Still, Blaine has to see, to make sure. Turning in the embrace, he lets out a relieved breath and smiles, a small, shaky smile that surprises even himself.

“Kurt.”

“Hi. How do you feel?”

“Better. You’re here.” Awed, still disbelieving, Blaine realizes something. “Wait, how can you be here? You have classes and a job and…”

Kurt kisses his forehead softly and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. There are other things I’m more worried about now.”

Kurt’s eyes are full of concern, slightly red and puffy, and Blaine feels a bitter wave of shame rise in his throat.

“I know. I’m sorry, I –“

“Blaine, don’t.” Kurt’s voice is firm but gentle, and Blaine dares to look up. “Please, don’t. Let me take care of the man I love, that’s what I came here for. I’m not judging you. I just want to understand so that I can think ways to help you. Can you tell me how long you’ve been cutting?”

The slightest waver on the last word, that’s the only sign that Kurt feels upset or distressed, but Blaine can’t look him in the eye as he answers, so he hides again, whispering against the soft skin of Kurt’s chest, his boyfriend’s arms tight and safe around him.

“The first time… it was after you left on Sunday. But I… hurt myself in other ways before.”

He can hear Kurt’s breathing hitch for a moment of silence before the next question comes.

“Does anyone know?”

Blaine shakes his head, wordless. Kurt’s embrace tightens even more, reassuringly so.

“Has anyone realized that you’re getting worse?”

Blaine shakes his head again, not even trying to deny – he has been getting steadily worse; he knows that. He feels Kurt’s chest expand as he sighs deeply, then a gentle hand strokes his cheek and makes him raise his head to be face to face with Kurt. Suddenly, he’s afraid of what he’s going to hear.

“Blaine, I love you so very much, you know that, right?” He nods. “I have to ask you for something that may be really hard for you. I promise I will be right here by your side all along, but I can’t help you by myself, I don’t know how. You need more; you have to tell your mom and your therapist. Today. About the cutting, about how you really feel, everything.”

He can’t, no, no way. His whole body starts to shake violently just from thinking about it. To admit to the whole world how much more of a screw-up he really is? No!

But Kurt is holding him firmly, his hand soothing on his back, his voice whispering I love you and We’ll get through this together as Blaine shakes and sobs until there are no more tears and no energy to keep fighting it. Because honestly, he knows. He can’t do this without help; he’s in too deep, too lost. But he’s so afraid, terrified really; not sure if he’ll be able to get through this.

But then Kurt, his Kurt, kisses him softly on the lips and Blaine nods because yes, he’ll do it, he has to. Kurt smiles, visibly relieved.

“I’m so proud of you, Blaine. You have no idea how proud. Come on now, we need to get dressed, get something to eat and go. I’ll drive you to therapy, okay? You’re too shaken to drive.”

“Will you come in with me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes. Please.” He can’t do it alone.

“Then I will.”