"I'm no saint, but I swear to you that I'm no bum either." - Frank Cotroni

They get home in the early hours of the morning, both drunk and uncoordinated.  Blaine hadn’t so much as touched his hand for the rest of the party.  Now, all Kurt can think is sleep and drops his expensive suit jacket on the floor as he rummages in a drawer for his pajamas.  He stands up triumphant, but is quickly spun around, the pajamas discarded at his side.

Blaine presses him against the dresser, hands untucking his shirt, and mouth biting along his neck.  Somehow in his distraction, Kurt missed Blaine undressing down to his boxers.  Kurt tells himself to relax, but his body stays stiff, unmoving.  Blaine steps back and licks his lips as he appraises Kurt.

“I want you.”

Kurt bites his lip and suddenly feels completely sober.  He’s immobilized with fear.

“Tell me you want me too.”

There’s a tense beat between them before Kurt gives in.

“I want you too.”  His voice only wavers slightly, but Blaine doesn’t seem to notice.  Blaine doesn’t care that he has to tell Kurt to say the words.  As long as he says them, surely Kurt means them.

“Take off your clothes.”

This moment had been coming for some time and Kurt thought he was prepared.  After all, this was the deal he made, right?  This was why he was here in this luxury apartment with a man he barely knew (or liked for that matter).  He’s as focused as he can get for someone that had more drinks than he could count.

Kurt’s hand trembles when he starts to unbutton his shirt.  He panics internally for a moment when he can’t get it undone, but then feels the button ease beneath his fingers.  When the shirt is discarded on the floor near his jacket, Kurt thinks he hears Blaine mumble so pretty, but it’s hard to hear over the rush of blood in his ears.

Everything about this is wrong.  He shouldn’t be here and he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t say no.  He’s not entirely sure what Blaine would do when denied something.  He wouldn’t just accept it or let Kurt walk out of the apartment.  There would be no ‘nice knowing you’ handshakes and goodbyes.  Kurt is sure Blaine is the type of man that gets what he wants no matter the cost.

Kurt quickly removes his belt and pants, leaving him in just his underwear.  He takes a deep breath and then pushes them down to add to the pile of clothes.  Blaine is lounging on the bed, leaning back on his elbows, obviously hard in his tented boxers.

Blaine just stares – eyes roaming everywhere and then lingering.  Kurt is undoubtedly blushing, never feeling so on display.  He makes his way towards the bed, moving towards the inevitable.  He kneels on the edge and Blaine reaches out to touch his bare chest, fingers twisting on a nipple.  Kurt pulls back, but quickly reaches for Blaine’s boxers.  Once they’re discarded amongst the mess, he kneels to the side of Blaine, wanting their bodies to touch as little as possible.  Kurt leans down to lick over the head of Blaine’s cock.  This is something he knows he can do.  He gets an appreciative moan out of Blaine and slowly takes him in his mouth.  Kurt feels a hand trace along his side and then over his ass.  He bobs his head, moves his tongue quicker, hoping he can just get Blaine off like this.

But then there’s a hand under his chin pulling him up into a messy kiss.  The kiss get’s more forceful, all teeth and tongue, and the lingering taste of whiskey.   Kurt is pushed back against the bed and he tries to take deep, even breaths.

“Just look at you.  Fuck.”  Blaine’s biting and sucking his way down Kurt’s chest.  A particularly hard graze of teeth causes Kurt to cry out which seems to spur Blaine on.  “Gonna fuck you.”

Blaine reaches into the side drawer and pulls out a small bottle of lube.  “Turn over.”

Kurt moves quickly to comply, grateful that he doesn’t have to look at Blaine.  He can feel Blaine move behind him, grabbing handfuls of his ass, and then pulling his cheeks apart.  Kurt didn’t think it was possible to blush any more, but Blaine is just staring at him down there.  A dry finger brushes over his hole with gentle pressure.  A small whimper escapes Kurt and that seems to draw Blaine’s attention back.

“Yah…”

It sounds like Blaine is answering some unspoken question.  Kurt feels a cold, wet finger slide down his crack and he starts to pull away.  A firm hand on his hip keeps him in place.  Fingers circle his pucker and then one slowly pushes in, not hurting as Kurt had anticipated.

The first finger is removed and then joined by a second lubed finger.  The stretch stings a little and Blaine’s pumping them in and out too fast, not giving Kurt time to adjust.

“Greedy little hole…”

Kurt buries his head in the pillow wishing himself anywhere but here.

The fingers are removed and Kurt bites his lip waiting for the third.  He feels a blunt pressure against his ass then and turns to look back at Blaine.  “Wait!”

“Can’t wait, baby.”  And then he’s pushing in.  Kurt let’s out a strangled cry as he bites into the pillow.  He’s not stretched enough and it hurts.  Blaine’s pushing and pushing and Kurt is sure that he’s tearing apart.  It feels like forever before Blaine finally bottoms out and Kurt wills his body to relax.  “So fucking tight for me.  All for me.”  Blaine sounds wrecked, but Kurt can barely hear, too focused on everything hurting.

Blaine leans forward and kisses the back of his neck, somehow pushing himself even deeper.  Kurt mewls and clutches the pillow like a lifeline.

As Blaine starts to pull back, the drag feels just as bad and Kurt realizes he’s crying.  He reaches back to put a hand on Blaine’s hip to get him to pause for just a minute.  But Blaine pays it no mind and slams back in causing Kurt to cry out unrestrained.  Blaine sets an unrelenting rhythm, molding his body to Kurt’s back to whisper in his ear.

“You were made for this.  Made to be fucked.  So fucking tight.  My tight little slut.”

Kurt’s chanting no, no, no in his head, but he can’t say it out loud.  He cries into the pillow, little sounds forced out of him with each thrust, waiting for it to end.  He focuses on the cool sheets below him instead of Blaine’s skin burning him.

When Blaine finally comes deep inside him, all Kurt can think is ‘he didn’t wear a condom’ which only makes more tears fall. 

Blaine pulls out and collapses to the bed.  Kurt falls easily without the hands on his waist keeping him up.  He stays as still as possible, hoping Blaine won’t do anything else.

“S’it good, baby?”  With the alcohol and the orgasm, Blaine sounds half asleep already.  “Good for you?”

“Yah,” Kurt barely chokes out.  He won’t say that it wasn’t good for him or that he never got hard and all he wants to do is curl into a ball and cry.  Instead, he lets Blaine throw an arm over him and takes steady breaths until he hears the other man start to snore.

He lies there until he counts to three hundred and then slowly starts to slide to the side of the bed.  When he stands, his knees buckle from the shock of pain that shoots through him and he falls to the floor, but doesn’t cry out.  Blaine continues snoring, so Kurt crawls the short distance to the bathroom and closes the door.  He turns on the small light attached to his facial mirror to illuminate the bathroom enough to see.  With a warm washcloth, he gently wipes Blaine’s come from his thighs and where it’s continuing to leak out of him.  He winces at even the lightest touch, but knows he has to get himself clean.  When he pulls the washcloth away, he sees streaks of red and pink – his blood mixed with Blaine’s come.  Bile immediately rises in his throat and he hurries to the toilet to throw up.  When he has nothing left to purge, he sits back and nearly cries out from the pressure.  He lies down on his side, wiping his mouth with a wad of toilet paper.

The sun is just starting to rise, bringing a warmth of colors through the bathroom window.  The cool tile against his cheek grounds him and he quickly drifts off to sleep.

***

The door opening wakes him up and he tries to remember wear he is.  He’s cold and everything aches.

“Kurt?  What are you doing in here?”

Blaine.  Kurt has trouble forming the words; his head is pounding.  “Got sick.”

He brings his hand up to cover his eyes.  It’s so bright.

Somehow the flushing of the toilet gets him to shake off the haze.  Blaine’s voice is much closer now.  “You got sick so you slept on the bathroom floor?  You’re officially cut off from alcohol.”

It sounds teasing and Kurt just hums in response.

“Come on, sit up.  You can’t stay here, you’re shivering.”

Blaine grabs his shoulder and tries to get him somewhat vertical.  Kurt winces and lets out a whine, reaching out to the wall to try and reposition himself.

“Are you okay?”

Kurt nods his head quickly, but he’s biting his lip and shifting uncomfortably.

Blaine looks over to see the discarded washcloth.  His face is a mask of worry.  “Did I hurt you last night?”

Kurt wants to shake his head, but he doesn’t want to lie.  “Sore.”

Blaine lets out a frustrated sigh and stands up to turn the knobs on the bath.  He doesn’t ask any more questions, but when he turns back to Kurt he almost looks guilty.

Kurt’s managed to get his knees under him so he’s somewhat upright without sitting.  Blaine turns off the water and leans down to help Kurt up.  His body is still extremely stiff from sleeping on the tile floor, on top of all of the other aches and pains.

Kurt moves slowly, but the hot bath feels amazing once he lowers himself into it.  He sits awkwardly, trying to find the least painful position.  Blaine kneels next to the bath and hands Kurt a clean washcloth.  Somehow Kurt feels more self-conscious now.  Blaine seems to be acting nice out of remorse and Kurt would prefer that he not.

“I’m fine now.  You can go.”  Kurt says it softly and Blaine just nods and leaves.

Kurt’s exhausted and all cried-out, which he is thankful for.  He doesn’t want Blaine to see him cry.

Blaine returns a short while later, a huge towel in hand.  “Come on and get out.  The water has to be cooled by now.”

Kurt nods and locks eyes with Blaine who gives him a half smile before spreading the towel in his arms as if to give Kurt some semblance of privacy.  He wants to let out a bitter laugh because Blaine has basically paid for full access to his body – he can look if he wants.  It takes him a few moments to get up and step out into the waiting towel.  Blaine helps wrap it tightly around him and then grabs a second smaller towel to help dry Kurt’s hair.

“You should go back to bed.  I’m sure you didn’t sleep well.”

Again, all Kurt can do is nod.  He let’s Blaine lead him back to the bed and notices the sheets have been changed.  He sits on the edge of the bed and Blaine holds two pills out for him.

“Extra-strength Tylenol.  I figured we’d go a step up from the aspirin.”  Blaine gives another half smile and Kurt just works one of his hands out from the towel cocoon.  He takes the pills and drinks nearly half the glass of water.  “I have to run out for a while.  Get some sleep.”

Kurt watches him leave and wonders how that’s the same person that called him a slut and tore him open last night.  He lies down in bed, still wrapped in his towel, and pulls the comforter over him.  Sleep comes easily.

***

When Kurt wakes up, it’s late afternoon.  He’s determined not to get out of bed any time soon, maybe never, but then his bladder wins out.  Everything still aches, but it’s dull, diluted.  Kurt’s fairly certain those weren’t Tylenol Blaine gave him earlier.

His head is still a little swimmy and he shuffles more than actually walks, but he stays upright.  It’s not until he’s discarded the towel and looking in the mirror that he actually feels fully awake.

Hickeys litter his body from neck to navel.  Bruises in the shape of fingers mar his hips and he fits his own hand over them.  He doesn’t remember the hands on him hurting, too focused on other pains.  The colors blooming on his body look much more stark against the pale canvas of his skin.  He’s been marked.  He’s been claimed.

Even through the t-shirt and sweatpants he puts on, Kurt swears he can see the marks.  He pulls the throw off the side chair and wraps it around his shoulders as another layer.

His feet falter as he enters the living room and finds Blaine sitting there with his laptop.  For a moment, Kurt is confused at the sight in front of him.  Blaine’s wearing an almost identical outfit to Kurt’s.  His hair is a little messy – curlier than Kurt’s seen it before, probably due to the lack of gel currently weighing it down.  He’s wearing glasses and typing furiously.  When he finally looks up and sees Kurt, he smiles so big that his eyes crinkle.

“Hey sleepy head.”

“Hi.”

“I was hoping you’d be up soon.  I sent someone out to get food.  It should be here soon.”

Kurt opens his mouth to say he’s not hungry, but his stomach speaks up for him.

Blaine smiles again and pats the couch beside him in invitation as he closes his laptop.  Kurt makes his way over, pulling the blanket tighter around himself as he sits gingerly next to Blaine. 

Blaine rests his hand on the back of Kurt’s neck, rubbing lightly with his thumb.  “Are you still sore?”

“It’s getting better.”  It’s not entirely a lie.  It still hurts, but he’s not on the verge of tears with each movement.

The rubbing on his neck feels calming, sweet.  Kurt finds himself leaning into it slightly, so desperate for any comfort.

The slamming of the door causes him to stiffen and pull away.

“It’s just dinner.”

Blaine walks into the kitchen and Kurt takes a few deep breaths before following.

“Is someone else joining us?”  There are bags and bags of food and whoever brought them has already left.

Blaine looks up, a container in each hand, and shrugs.

“Just us, but I didn’t know what you wanted.  I know for sure you like Italian so we’ve got cannelloni and chicken marsala.  You mentioned once that you loved Chinese food, so here is broccoli beef and sesame chicken.  Then we have a cheeseburger and fries – really can’t go wrong there.  And then a couple quesadillas because everyone loves cheese.”

There’s a hint of vulnerability in Blaine’s eyes when Kurt looks at him, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

“Broccoli beef sounds great.”

“Chinese it is then.  You grab the waters.”

They eat in silence, watching some mindless reality TV show.

Blaine takes the remaining food back to the kitchen and then offers to put in a movie.  Kurt agrees, no preference other than something funny.  Blaine pops in The Hangover and mumbles something about too much alcohol that Kurt doesn’t quite hear.  When he resituates back on the couch, he sits right next to Kurt, even throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

Kurt looks into Blaine’s eyes, a little unsure what will happen next.  Blaine kisses him softly, tasting slightly sweet, but all Kurt can think of are forceful whiskey kisses.  He wants this to be over with so he can just go back to bed, so he moves his hand down to Blaine’s waistband.  Blaine gives him one more light peck and clasps their hands together before turning back to the movie.

Kurt stares at their hands resting across Blaine’s stomach. 

The next thing he knows, Blaine is whispering his name and running a hand through his hair to wake him up.  He sits up, realizing his head had been resting on Blaine’s shoulder, and wipes at his eyes.

“Come on, you can go back to sleep.  Let’s just get to bed.”

Kurt doesn’t protest, lets himself be led, and then crawls under the covers.  The bed feels plush beneath him, but he feels a little like he’s in that dream again.  Warmth wrapped around him and a breath tickling his neck.  He wants to turn his head to look, but he’s just so sleepy.  He likes this dream.

***

It’s too hot.

He’s sweating and the air is too thick.

He kicks the comforter off, pushes his sweaty pillow to the floor, and tries to untangle himself from the mess of sheets around him.

The whine from behind him makes him aware that it’s less sheets, more man that he’s tangled with.  Kurt lifts himself up a little from where he’s laying on his stomach and sees Blaine curled up along his side.  He’s still too hot so he starts to move away.

“No, five more minutes.”

Kurt stops moving, trying to determine if Blaine is really awake.

When one eye peaks open, he gets his answer.

“Where did all the covers go?  It’s cold.”

“I got hot.”

“Come back.”  Blaine’s eyes are closed, but his arms are reaching out.

Kurt shuffles back across the bed and Blaine’s arms wrap around and pull him close.

“Mmm, better.”

Blaine’s hand idly traces across Kurt’s back, but he starts to lightly snore again.

Kurt’s fist balls the material of Blaine’s shirt and he wants to cry so badly.  He can’t reconcile in his mind how this man can hold him so sweetly as the dull ache in his body resonates.

He doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t sleep.

He just waits.

***