Blaine locks his eyes on the punching bag, refusing to see anything other than the smack of his fist against it despite the bile rising in his throat at the sound of Finn's voice.

            "I said I think we should talk," Finn says.

            "For the past few weeks, you've barely said two words to me," Blaine bites out through clenched teeth. "I'm not at your fucking whim, Finn."

            "I think you'll want to listen to what I have to say."

            "I think I don't really care right now," Blaine returns, landing a sharp punch to the bag.

            "I'll stand here as long as it takes," Finn says calmly, "but I can't let you leave here without talking to me first."

            "Are you gonna explain why you've been acting like such an ass to me lately? Because that's something I'll talk about."

            "If you were standing in my shoes, dude, you'd say you deserved it."

            "Jesus, I haven't done anything to you! But you - you look at me like I make you sick!" Blaine shouts, dropping his arms because he thinks he'll break them if he continues swinging so carelessly. He turns, feeling the fire sizzling in his eyes and hoping he burns Finn with his gaze. "And it's like - shit. I don't even - what is your problem with me, anyway?

            "I've got a few right now," Finn states. "And I think you do, too."

            "I don't have any problems, not beyond whatever this is with you."

            "Well why don't you just come out of the closet?"

Blaine stops breathing. He feels as if someone smacked him in the stomach with a baseball bat. Finn simply stares at him, pity and sorrow twisting his expression into one Blaine doesn't recognize. He looks pretty tired, actually. Blaine can sympathize. He's exhausted.

But still, he has to fight. He sucks in a breath of air in an attempt to dissolve the dizziness he feels swimming behind his eyes. There's too much at stake now. He's too deep into this lie that he's created for himself and even though every day feels like he's digging another foot for his own grave, he steels himself and offers up a shrug and a blank stare.

            "What are you talking about?" he asks.

            "That must hurt," Finn says with a similar shrug to Blaine's, "to not be able to admit to everyone how you really feel. I bet it was really hard for Kurt, too, back in the day."

            "Look," Blaine says, tugging off one of his gloves in order to flex his fingers. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

            "I think you do," Finn says. "Most guys would get really angry about this. If I called another guy gay and he wasn't, he'd be pretty pissed. And then he'd probably try to fight me or something."

            "Maybe I'm not most guys," Blaine snaps. "Being gay isn't an offensive thing to me. I have nothing to be mad about. But I don't know why you think I'm gay because I'm dating Rachel, in case you haven't noticed. And she's very much a girl."

            "I know that. I also know that I saw you kissing my brother in the auditorium after the opening of West Side Story."

At first, all Blaine can do is gawk because Finn is very serious and Blaine knows he's serious because yeah, that's definitely something that happened. Blaine remembers it perfectly; he remembers the way Kurt had smelled like his face wash and hairspray and the tiniest dab of his cologne because Kurt doesn't like to overuse it. He remembers how soft Kurt's lips had been against his. He remembers the solid thumping of Kurt's heart beneath his chest where Blaine had placed their hands.

Lately, though, it feels like all of that is slowly slipping away, ready to drift and turn to dust and no matter what he does, he can't stop it. It's like he's standing at the base of solid, brick wall that's a thousand feet high and there's no way to climb over it.

He is well and truly caught now.

How is he supposed to explain this away? Finn saw. He saw them. It's not like he can say they were drunk, like at Rachel's party. No, they were alone and in the serene silence of an empty stage and they had kissed, heedless of potential onlookers.

This is why it's so hard for Blaine to be around Kurt at school among all of their friends. His judgment and sense of rational thought just falls by the wayside when Kurt is involved. They were at school and sure, it was long after school hours and they thought they were alone but they can't ever be sure. It's too hard to pretend like he doesn't want to be with Kurt when they're side by side and breathing the same air and maybe touching a little bit because he likes it when they touch, even just a brief encounter of skin, because Blaine feels closer to Kurt than anyone else he's ever met and Kurt is wonderful and Blaine is -

Blaine is lost in the world. And slightly broken.

And Finn is staring at him like he knows all of that.

But Blaine still has to lie - he just has to make it a believable lie. And he has to lie because he's too afraid of what might happen if he were to tell the truth instead.

            "I thought I was," Blaine says, eyes cutting away from Finn's face because he honestly can't bear to look at him right now.

            "...What d'you mean?"

            "I thought I was gay," Blaine reiterates. "After we kissed at Rachel's party that one night, I started to think I was. I got really confused for a while because I didn't know if it was because I liked it or if it was because I was drunk."

            "What happened?" Finn asks softly, and he sounds so genuine in his concern and it isn't fair.

Blaine wants to stomp and scream like a toddler having a temper tantrum. He wants to shout at the sky and ask the great unknown why this is happening to him and he wants to ask why he can't just tell the truth.

            "Do you remember that night around Thanksgiving? When Kurt was helping me pick out a present for Rachel?"

            "Yeah. I saw you guys on the porch."

            "Well, that night I talked to him about it. He was the only one I knew that might understand."

            "I don't know," Finn says, slightly uncertain. "I'm not sure Kurt ever thought he was straight."

            "It's not like I had anyone else to talk to," Blaine says. "He was the only one who wouldn't think I was crazy or gross."

            "I guess. I wouldn't have thought you were gross."

            "We're also not all that close," Blaine reminds. Because they're not. Sure, Blaine has joined in with all the other guys when they had game nights at Finn's or Puck's but beyond that, they only ever really hang out when Rachel and Quinn want to do double date things. "You would've understood even less than he did."

Finn shrugs, looking to the floor.

            "So I talked about it," Blaine says. "And that night, he walked in on me rehearsing one of the numbers and I...wanted to kiss him. Because I wanted to know."

            "And he let you."

            "He let me," Blaine echoes. "That's all it took, though."

            "And you decided...what?"

            "That it was the alcohol," Blaine lies. "Kissing can just be kissing when you're drunk, really. But I'd never kissed a guy before that, so I was confused."

            "Wait," Finn says, holding up one of his hands. "So you - he let you kiss him and that's - that's it? You just stop talking to him? You just drop him off your radar? Not cool, dude."

            "We're still friends," Blaine says, and it feels good to not have to tell a complete lie. "We hang out sometimes, go for coffee, go for lunch, stuff like that. But you know how people are at school. If they saw me being like, actually friendly with him, they'd take it the wrong way and god only knows what would come of that. So we keep it quiet. Kind of the same way you do. You talk to Kurt when you're at home, but you barely even look at him when we're at school."

            "It's just...easier that way," Finn says, appearing uneasy. "Kurt's - I mean, he's my brother now but it's still - I don't know. People just aren't very nice."

            "So you get it, then," Blaine says. "You understand why things are the way they are."

            "Yeah, I get it. It still - it's weird."

            "What's weird?"

            "I was...kind of happy," Finn says. "For Kurt, I mean. I would've been happy that Kurt had someone to make him happy, even just for a while."

            "Really?"

            "Well, yeah. Like I said, he is my brother," Finn says. "But I was mad because I thought you were like, using him or whatever. I thought you were sneaking around behind Rachel's back and cheating on her with him and that's bad enough, you know? I think cheating's pretty stupid. But I think Kurt could to better than being like, somebody's back up plan."

            "Y-Yeah," Blaine stammers. "He does deserve better. Kurt is - he's a good guy."

            "And Rachel's kind of really super hot right now," Finn adds. "Only an idiot would cheat on her."

            "Right," Blaine says, not willing to prolong the conversation because he doesn't want to have to explain anything else. "Glad we, uh, cleared that up then."

            "Sorry for being such a douche bag," Finn says, blushing slightly in his apology. "I just - well, you get it."

            "It's fine. Talk to me next time, though. Okay? Before you decide to hate me."

            "Sure thing, man," Finn says with a goofy grin. He claps Blaine hard on the shoulder and even though he's smiling, Blaine feels so small.

Finn leaves, whistling to himself like Blaine's world hasn't just cracked in half.  Blaine must be a damn good actor because on the inside, he's sobbing at Finn's candid conversation. He drags a hand over his face, not feeling any lines of anxiety on his forehead, and noting the slightly upturned corners of his lips. He probably looks like a normal guy, one who's thinking about all of the awesome things he might do tonight.

Blaine doesn't feel normal at all.

He feels numb.

-

            "You told him what?"

            "I basically said that I thought I was gay after we first kissed at Rachel's party, so I kissed you again just to be sure, and realized that I wasn't."

            "Isn't that...the exact opposite of what happened?" Kurt asks through the phone later than evening. The rest of the house is asleep, Finn included, thank god, and Kurt is curled up on his bed in the dark.

            "It's not like I could tell him the truth," Blaine says with a sigh. "I thought about telling him that I was helping you practice for an audition or something, but that wouldn't have made any sense. And I figured if I told him something that seemed personal enough, he'd leave it alone."

            "Yeah. I guess that makes sense."

            "But then he started - started talking about how he thought I was cheating on Rachel with you and keeping you as a backup plan, and about how you deserved better than that. And it - it hurt," Blaine admits. "Because he's right. You deserve more than what I can give you right now."

Kurt stops breathing.

            "...If you're breaking up with me, I swear to god, Blaine Anderson," he says firmly. "I will burn all of those comic books you keep hidden in your closet."

            "Well that's a low blow."

They both stop speaking for a moment after that because Kurt's too caught up in his own panic and he's sure Blaine is caught up in his decision. Kurt wants to say something. He wants to make this all better with a few magic words and he wants Blaine to not feel so bad about himself anymore. He wants Blaine to be happy.

But he knows that he doesn't have the power to right the situation on his own. He can tell Blaine a million and one times that he doesn't mind keeping this a secret and he can tell him that he's still here, ready and willing to wait for the day Blaine is ready to give up the ruse and come out of the closet. None of that, however, can make Blaine do what he isn't yet prepared to do.

            "I'm not breaking up with you," Blaine finally says. "How can I when we're not even real boyfriends?"

            "You know what I mean," Kurt says.

            "I know. But I'm not. I think that I'd go crazy without you, Kurt. It's just that - that everything feels so hard right now. And it's like I have to fight every single day just to be okay when I know what it would take to make things great."

            "I wish I could do more to help you," Kurt replies in a whisper. "But all I can really do is be here for you. And maybe kiss you occasionally."

            "More than occasionally, I would hope."

            "Let's go to Scandals this weekend," Kurt suggests after a beat. "We always have a good time at Scandal's. I'll even be the designated driver so you can get properly drunk."

            "I'm not sure if drinking is going to solve this."

            "Definitely not. But what's the harm in having one good night out together where we don't have to worry about anything else?"

            "I don't know," Blaine says. "I might not be in the best of moods."

            "I'll just have to make sure that you are, then."

-

            "Best idea ever."

Kurt laughs brightly as Blaine continues to hop around to the music. He's so adorable and carefree right now. Kurt wishes he could give this to him every day.

Minus the alcohol, of course.

Scandal's is busy this weekend, more so than usual. They actually had to wait in line at the door until the door man noticed that they were regulars and let them cut to the front with a sly wink as they passed. Now, an hour and a half in, Blaine has already had one too many drinks and is currently drunk-dancing, jumping all around him and yelling the words to YMCA along with the jukebox. As cute as he is, though, his energy isn't so infectious while Kurt is completely sober and sweating buckets.

            "I'm going to the bar," he says into Blaine's ear.

            "Okay!" Blaine shouts back with a lopsided grin. "Come back soon!"

Kurt kisses his cheek and turns away, winding through the crowd in order to get to the bar. Gina the bartender already has a virgin cocktail for him despite how busy she must be tonight, and he's sure to drop a ten dollar bill in her tip jar. Kurt settles on a barstool, spinning around in order to keep an eye on Blaine. He's too attractive for his own good, really, if the swarm of men that crowd around him after Kurt's departure is any indication. Blaine is clearly too drunk to care. He simply laughs at their attention, his little nose crinkling in amusement as one of the men attempts to give him a twirl.

            "Better keep an eye on that one," someone says from a barstool next to him. "You youngsters are like prime real estate in this place."

            "I'll be sure to keep that - Luke?" Kurt gasps when he finally catches sight of the stranger's face. He looks the same as he did when Kurt met him his first night here, save for the fact that he has apparently allowed his beard to grow out to that degree of sexy-scruffy. It looks good on him. He looks good. He still isn't Kurt's type, but he does look good. "Oh my god, where have you been? We haven't seen you in here in forever!"

            "Been a bit preoccupied," Luke says with a broad smile. "Found a forever fellow of my own."

            "You - really? Where is he?"

            "He's currently attempting to teach your boyfriend how to drop it like it's hot," Luke says, gesturing to the dance floor where a guy who looks suspiciously like a guy he might have seen in a gay porno once is trying to teach Blaine the finer points of...dancing.

Not that Kurt watches porn. Not at all.

He clears his throat.

            "He's cute," Kurt states. "But Blaine isn't my boyfriend. Well, not technically, anyway."

            "Uh oh," Luke trills. "We've got technicalities to deal with. Spill, sweetheart. What's going on?"

            "It's...complicated," Kurt sighs.

            "From what Gina tells me, you two have been in here a lot, and always with each other."

            "It's the only place we can really act like a couple without causing World War Gay."

            "...Yeah, I don't follow."

            "He's not out yet," Kurt clarifies. "And he's dating a girl at school who is hell bent on affirming her social standing by keeping Blaine as her boyfriend."

            "She sounds dangerous."

            "She's not a bad person," Kurt explains. "But they've been together for like, two years and Blaine has only known that he's actually gay for a few months now. He's just not ready to give all of that up yet. And I get that, I do, but putting on the act is draining him and I don't know how much longer he's going to last before he gives up. But when he does give up, I don't know if he's going to give her up or if - if it's going to be me."

            "Well, considering he keeps looking over at you every ten seconds just to make sure you're still here, I get the feeling he won't be giving you up anytime soon."

An eyebrow lifts in curiosity, and Kurt turns his attention back to Blaine. His smile is so big and cheesy, but then he - oh. Luke is right. Every few seconds, he turns his gaze back to the bar, no matter who he's dancing with at the moment. When their eyes lock from across the room, Blaine brightens instantly and offers an excited wave. Kurt raises his hand in acknowledgement, sure to toss him a grin for good measure.

            "Boyfriends or not," Luke continues, "the kid's got it bad for you."

            "Maybe," Kurt says. "That doesn't change the fact that he's about ten shades of confused right now."

            "No," Luke says in understanding, "but I don't think you have to worry about him leaving you. He'll be ready when he's ready. I'm sure you know that, though."

            "I do."

            "You just gotta be there for him. When he does come out, you might be one of the few people he has to lean on. That's the important part."

            "I know. I just hate seeing him suffer."

            "That's because you've got a heart the size of your body and a compassion streak a mile and a half wide, blue eyes. Don't get so down with all of this. Life will sort itself out, one way or another."

            "Thanks," Kurt says sincerely. "You're the first person I've really had the chance to talk to about all of this."

            "Anytime," Luke says, lifting his beer as if to toast Kurt. "Now what're you drinking? I'll buy you and your boy your next round."

            "Oh, no," Kurt says. "I'm not drinking. Tonight is for him. I'm designated driver."

            "Why do you need a designated driver? There's a motel right up the road."

Kurt blushes, a fierce shade of red coloring the apples of his cheeks, and he scrunches his nose. Sure, he's seen the motel. They pass it every single time they arrive and leave the bar. But he's never actually considered taking their activities to a cheap motel, not when they have cars and Blaine's occasionally empty house.

            "You can even pay by the hour," Luke says with a wink.

            "Oh my god," Kurt groans because of course you can.

            "Come on," Luke says, elbowing Kurt gently in the side. "Live a little, blue eyes. Get drunk, dance with your boy, and walk to the motel. Gina won't mind if you leave your car in the lot overnight. Actually, I'm sure she condones it."

            "Will they even give us a room?" Kurt wonders, unable to believe that he's asking at all. "We look like we're fifteen."

            "You got in here, didn't you?"

            "Only because this place has horrendous security and Gina likes to play matchmaker to underage gays."

            "Who cares?" Luke returns, shrugging and waving Gina over to their end of the bar. "Just have a couple of drinks and go get naked together. You know you want to. Your half-boyfriend isn't the only one that needs to unwind tonight. Hell, I'll pay for the room if it means you'll get laid."

            "You are terrible."

            "Gina!" Luke calls. "Something strong for Kurt and his boy! They've gotta get drunk and go have sex!"

Kurt buries his face in his hands in embarrassment, but everyone nearby seems to cheer and holler. Gina claps loudly and gives a sharp, celebratory whistle.

And then -

            "What's goin' on?"

Blaine is there.

            "Apparently I'm being plied with liquor so I can take you to a cheap motel and screw you all night."

Blaine blinks back quickly, Kurt's words taking a few seconds to process in his mind.

            "Really?" he asks.

            "Yes."

With a nod, Blaine looks to Gina who has appeared right behind them and says just one thing:

"Make his a double."

-

The night air cools Kurt's drunk-warm cheeks as they stumble out of the bar and down the road. He has his arm wrapped securely around Blaine's shoulders, while Blaine's is looped around his waist. They giggle against each other's necks, and every once in a while they press sweet, messy kisses to each other's lips.

            "I'm so glad we came out tonight," Blaine says happily as he tosses his free hand up and out, as if to demonstrate the beauty of everything around them. "It's perfect! Everything is perfect. Especially you. But you're always perfect. Did you know?"

            "You're crazy," Kurt responds as he laughs.

            "I'm not crazy. I'm drunk. There's a difference."

They kiss their way to the motel, and Kurt is only faintly worried about the cars passing so close to them on the road. When they reach what is considered the lobby of the place, the attendant barely looks up when they enter. Kurt hands him the fifty dollar bill that Luke had slipped into his pocket earlier and the guy behind the desk hands over a key without even asking for their names or identification.

            "Check out's at noon," he mumbles, eyes never leaving his magazine.

Kurt and Blaine laugh behind their hands as they rush to the room that matches the number on their key. This is absolutely ridiculous, Kurt thinks as he tries for the second time to unlock the door of their room. They're going to spend the night in a motel. He finally pushes the door open and they stagger inside, cackling loudly when they catch sight of the décor. It's just about as bad as they'd expected and equally cliché.

But they're alone and the bed is pretty freaking huge and he has lube in his pocket.

Because Luke-Nice-Guy is an enabler.

            "I can't believe we're doing this," Blaine says with a grin as he clutches Kurt by his shirt and tugs him closer. "I never thought I'd get drunk and have sex in a cheap motel."

            "Neither did I," Kurt says, his smile just as big. "But it's just one night. And we deserve to have fun for a night."

            "Agreed," Blaine says. "Now shut up and kiss me."

Kurt pushes Blaine back onto the bed and crawls over him, dragging his thigh between Blaine's legs and pressing where he's already half hard in his jeans.

            "I can do so much better than that," Kurt says, pitching his voice low.

Below him, Blaine sucks in a sharp breath. The alcohol in his bloodstream suppresses his inhibitions and he feels so free, like they can just take what they want and not worry about the morning or the people beyond the door. He wants to make Blaine writhe and moan, he wants him to pull him apart with his tongue and his hands and he wants Blaine to do the same to him. The rest of the world and their real lives seem like some hazy dream that's lost in the back of Kurt's mind, and he's content to leave it there for a few hours because he wants this.

He dips his head down to lick a long line over Blaine's throat, tongue on salty, sweaty skin until he reaches Blaine's mouth. Instead of kissing him, he laps at Blaine's pretty, parted lips as Blaine sighs, lifting his head in an attempt to get a proper kiss.

            "Fuck, you're such a tease," Blaine groans, thrusting his hips up against Kurt's thigh.

Kurt hums his agreement before trailing his lips over to Blaine's ear. He licks at the shell and Blaine squeezes his back, fingers clawing at his shirt in an effort to feel skin.

            "N-Naked," Blaine stutters as he shivers. "We need to be naked."

Not even willing to argue the point, Kurt scrambles off of Blaine's lap in order to rid himself of his clothing. Blaine does the same. There is no show of finesse, no slow reveal; only tugging and stripping as quickly as possible because there is no time for clothing. He needs to feel Blaine's skin against his, needs to feel his dick pressed against the dip of his hip. He very nearly trips when he tries to peel off his jeans and underwear at the same time, but that's okay because Blaine gets his shirt tangled around his head in his haste to be naked.

When their clothes are finally strewn about the room, Kurt reaches for Blaine once more. Blaine grabs Kurt by his face, hands grasping the side of his head as he pulls him down for a hard, hot kiss, tongue immediately darting out to lick inside of Kurt's mouth.

Kurt moans in response, aligning their hips just so before pressing Blaine down into the bed with his body and rocking slightly, barely enough to elicit any real friction.

            "Kurt," Blaine says, but it comes out as a growl.

            "What d'you need?" Kurt asks as he presses a few wet kisses to Blaine's jaw.

            "Just - god, just touch me. Touch me everywhere."

Kurt buries his face in Blaine's neck and shifts just enough to be able to drag his fingernails down Blaine's naked chest. Blaine hisses at the sensation, arching up into Kurt's touch. His hiss turns into a whine, however, when Kurt wraps his hand around his dick.

            "Yes," Blaine sighs in relief, tossing his head back. "God, yes."

            "Tell me," Kurt whispers into Blaine's ear, "do you think about me? Do you think about me when you do this to yourself?"

Blaine's mouth drops open, he squeeze his eyes shut, and Kurt pulls a long moan from his throat with a single twist of his wrist.

            "Do you?" he prompts again.

            "Y-Yes," Blaine admits in a strangled voice. "Christ, all the time."

            "Do you think about me sucking you?" Kurt asks softly. "Do you think about fucking me?"

            "Oh, god," Blaine replies, which isn't really an answer to Kurt's question.

            "Tell me," he says again.

            "Yeah," Blaine says before licking his dry lips. "Yeah, I think about fucking you."

Kurt releases his dick, his hand drifting down to cup Blaine's balls instead. He rolls them gently in his palm and fingers as he sucks on Blaine's neck, biting ever so slightly before soothing his skin with his teeth.

            "What about when you're with her?" Kurt asks darkly, liquor loosening his lips. "Do you think about me when you kiss her? Do you think about fucking me when you're pretending to be in love with her?"

Blaine doesn't answer right away, instead jerking his hips up against the empty space between their bodies in desperate need of friction against his dick. Kurt claws at Blaine's thigh, scratching at the skin and feeling Blaine's strong muscles clench beneath his hand in response. He spreads his legs eagerly, and Kurt grabs at his inner thigh.

            "Do you?" he asks, pressing his own dick against Blaine's hip. "Because I think you do."

            "F-Fuck," Blaine stammers, chest heaving as he pants. He turns his head to nuzzle his nose against Kurt's cheek and press a kiss to his temple.

            "Do you?" Kurt asks one last time.

            "Yes," Blaine breathes. "She - she kisses me and I think about you. Wish it was you, always want you. G-God, always."

His strong arms drag Kurt back down until their bodies are pressed together from their ankles all the way up to their shoulders. He kisses Kurt possessively, like Kurt's the one with a girlfriend, hands clutching Kurt's back, limbs trembling as if he's going to come unglued at any second.

            "Please," Blaine begs in between lips and tongues and teeth, "please."

            "Tell me what you want," Kurt says.

            "You - I want - I-"

            "I'll give you anything," Kurt tells him, his hips jerking at the truth of his own words. "Anything you want."

            "Your - your fingers," Blaine whimpers as he squeezes Kurt's ass. "Want - I want your fingers in me."

As soon as Blaine's words drift through the thick cloud of lust impairing most of Kurt's rational thoughts, he pauses. Blaine is staring directly up at him with wide, dark eyes and he looks like he's about to unravel if Kurt so much as kisses him again. It seems like everything about tonight is unexpected.

            "You do?" Kurt asks blithely. "You want me to finger you?"

            "Yes," Blaine says, breathy and desperate, reaching for Kurt's wrist as if he needs to demonstrate his point. "Will you?"

            "I - yeah, of course I will. If that's really what you want."

            "What makes you think I don't really want it?"

            "I just figured that you were, you know, the one who actually thought he was straight at some point so you'd always want to top, uh, exclusively. I didn't think you'd ever be into anything like...that."

            "I wasn't," Blaine says, thumb tracing the inside of Kurt's wrist as a smirk settles on Blaine's lips. "Until I did it to myself. I've since reconsidered."

It's hard to put all of this new information together at once, given Kurt's drunken state. When he finally does and the image swirls into being in Kurt's mind, of Blaine spread out, completely alone in his bed, with his fingers deep in his own ass, he almost falls over. Blaine seems to realize what he's done and pulls Kurt in for a deep kiss, tongue lapping at Kurt's teeth.

            "So," he whispers against Kurt's mouth, "will you finger me?"

            "Yes. Yeah. Yes," Kurt says at once. "Just - hold on."

He leaps off the bed and fumbles around, seeking out his jeans among their clothing scattered all around the foot of the bed. He reaches into the pocket when he finds them and withdraws the small bottle of lubricant that Luke had slid into his hands beneath the bar before they left. Who just - just carries around bottles of this stuff?

Considering what he's about to have the opportunity to do, he really shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth at this point.

            "How-"

            "Luke," Kurt says before Blaine can finish asking the question.

Blaine stares at Kurt's face, then looks to the bottle in his hands, and then looks back up into Kurt's eyes.

            "Well, get over here, then," he says.

Kurt presses Blaine into the bed once more, kissing him fiercely and grinding their hips together for good measure.

            "Never thought I'd get to do this to you," he admits, clutching Blaine's bare hips with a strong, relentless grip.

            "Want it so bad," Blaine says, head lolling back against the bed. "Please, Kurt."

Leaning onto one of his elbows for balance, Kurt flicks open the tiny bottle of lube and squeezes a good amount onto a few fingers. Blaine simple stares as he does it, his sweaty chest heaving against Kurt's as he waits. Kurt resettles himself off to the side just slightly and he knocks Blaine's thighs apart with his knee. Obliging, Blaine lifts one of his legs up and pulls it to his chest, baring himself for Kurt's hand and fingers.

            "How-" Kurt pauses to swallow, needing to moisten his dry mouth and throat, "how many did you use when you did it to yourself."

            "Two."

God, the image of Blaine fucking himself down against his own fingers is entirely too much to handle right now.

            "Tell me if it hurts," Kurt says.

Blaine nods and Kurt slides his hand between their bodies, flexing his wrist so that the base of his palm drags down Blaine's chest and brushes over his dick, against his balls, and then he slides one, slick finger over Blaine's hole. Blaine gasps above him, already lifting his hips in the direction of Kurt's fingers, seeking more, and Kurt hasn't even done anything yet.

It feels like Blaine wants this more than Kurt has ever fantasized about actually doing it to him.

            "Please," Blaine whines, fingers curling forcefully around Kurt's bicep. "In me, now, please, please, now."

Swallowing hard and willing himself not to come against Blaine's hip, he swirls his finger around Blaine's hole before finally pressing the tip of it inside, only barely breaching the little ring of muscle. Blaine's lips part as he sucks in a breath. As Kurt pushes his finger in further, he barely has time to think about how hot and tight Blaine is here because he's too busy studying each and every expression that passes over Blaine's face; there's a hint of pain, but it's overshadowed by the way his lower lip is caught between his teeth and the way he throws his head back when Kurt's finger is finally sheathed, down to the knuckle.

            "Holy shit," Kurt breathes, in complete awe of the boy below him. "You're beautiful like this."

            "P-Please," Blaine begs for about the hundredth time that night. "I - you have to-"

Kurt takes the cue and withdraws his finger without fully removing it, and when he presses back in, Blaine's moan is so deep and long and low and Kurt has fallen in love.

How is he ever supposed to give this up?

Forcing his emotions back into the lock box where they belong in his mind, he focuses on the slick glide of his finger in Blaine's ass. Blaine clenches around him like a vice every time he pulls out, like he's afraid Kurt won't push it in again, but then he begins to rock, ever so slightly, and fucks himself on Kurt's finger.

            "C-Can - will you - can I have two?" Blaine stammers, clearly too far gone to worry about complete sentences.

You can have whatever you want, Kurt thinks to himself.

Outwardly, he nods and presses a second finger inside, slowly adding to the stretch and burn he knows that Blaine must feel.

            "Oh, god," Blaine groans below him, clinging to Kurt's arm with trembling hands. "It's - fuck, you're - it's perfect."

Kurt dips his head down for a kiss, claiming Blaine's lips with his own and swallowing the whines and whimpers that barely make it out of Blaine's throat as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of Blaine's wonderfully tight ass. The room is filled with fractions of sound, from the wet slap of Kurt's fingers, to the intermittent squeak of the mattress springs as Blaine rocks himself against those fingers, to the muffled moans caught between their lips and the occasional huff of breath that escapes through their noses.

And then he has an idea.

He stills his fingers in Blaine's ass, though he's sure to press them in deep when he pauses, and breaks their frantic kiss.

            "What're you - no, come back," Blaine says, attempting to grab at Kurt's shoulders in order to pull him back up.

But Kurt continues his journey south, heedless of Blaine's pleading. He kisses his way down, teeth grazing one of Blaine's nipples, and tongue swirling around Blaine's bellybutton as he goes.

            "What - what-"

            "Shh," Kurt breathes when he's finally crouched over Blaine's dick.

And that's when he licks at the head of it, swallowing the drop or pre-come he finds there, before he begins moving his fingers again. Blaine's hands fly down to tangle him Kurt's hair. As he pushes his fingers into Blaine's ass, he slides his wet mouth over Blaine's dick and sucks until his cheek hollow out.

            "Jesus fuck Christ, yes," Blaine swears above him, his other leg joining the first where it's curled up against his chest to allow Kurt more access.

He's completely spread open now, and Kurt is able to suck him and finger-fuck him freely. It's obvious that Blaine doesn't know if he wants to thrust into Kurt's mouth or rock down against his fingers, so Kurt presses his arm down against Blaine's hips, flat and firm and spanning from bone to bone. He holds him against the bed while he continues to suck him in time with the pace of his fingers. He can really only fit the head and an inch or two of Blaine's dick in his mouth, but it seems to be enough because Blaine is moaning so loudly that Kurt knows everyone else in this motel will be able to hear him.

Kurt's own dick is heavy and hard against his lap, aching with the need to be touched, but he ignores his own plight in favor of making Blaine scream.

            "K-Kurt," Blaine pants, fingers twisting almost painfully in Kurt's hair, "I'm - baby, I'm gonna - oh my god."

Blaine comes right then, hard enough to curl in on himself as he does, and spills into Kurt's warm mouth. His ass clenches around Kurt's fingers and fuck, Kurt can feel it when he comes; he can feel the sweet, erotic pulsing of Blaine's orgasm as his body automatically squeezes and releases, squeezes and releases, and it's so unbelievably intimate that it feels like a dream.

Eventually, Blaine relaxes back into the bed and Kurt releases his dick and slips his fingers out of Blaine's ass. When Kurt sits up on his knees, Blaine is gazing at him with such open adoration that Kurt's heart stutters in his ribcage. But now, Kurt doesn't have anything to focus on, and the heavy ache of his own erection causes him to whimper. He reaches between his legs and begins to stroke himself because he needs to be touched and he needs to come. It feels like he's been hard for hours.

            "Come here," Blaine says, scooting up on the bed until his neck and shoulders are propped up against the pillows.

Kurt crawls and follows, but then Blaine grabs him by the waist and forces him to straddle his chest. When Blaine licks his lips and Kurt finally catches up with his intentions, he moans and spreads his legs wide. Blaine splays his palms and fingers against the muscled flesh of Kurt's ass and guides his hips forward. Kurt uses his hand to align his dick with Blaine's open mouth. Just as Blaine sucks the tip inside, Kurt braces himself with both hands on the headboard and gives a few shallow, experimental thrusts.

He's fucking Blaine's mouth, he realizes.

At first, he's too afraid of hurting Blaine or making him gag, but then Blaine forces him in deeper with the help of his hands on Kurt's ass.

            "Blaine," he breathes, "this is - I'm not gonna be able to-"

And Blaine just groans around his dick like he's hungry for it. His fingers squeeze Kurt's ass, sure to leave behind tiny claw marks. Kurt fucks into his mouth at quick, steady pace and Blaine's tongue is pressed just so and he's been hard for at least an hour, ever since they left the bar, and Blaine is letting Kurt do this to him and he let Kurt finger him and begged for it to happen and maybe one day Blaine will let him fuck him with his dick instead of his fingers and - and fuck.

He comes in less than five minutes, comes in Blaine's mouth, on his tongue, on his chin, and it even drips down Blaine's neck.

For a few seconds, he doesn't exactly remember where he is or what he's doing, but then he comes back to himself and looks down to see Blaine's lips and chin covered in his come.

            "Shit, I'm sorry," he says, climbing off of Blaine's body.

"I really don't mind," Blaine says.

With his eyes locked on Kurt's, he swipes his hand through the come on his chin before bring it to his mouth, licking his own skin clean.

If Kurt hadn't just come a minute ago, he'd turn Blaine over and fuck him into the mattress until morning. Instead, he watches Blaine clean himself until most of Kurt's come is in his mouth instead of all over his face, and then he hurries into the tiny bathroom. He returns with a wet cloth and cleans Blaine properly before tossing it aside, flicking off the light, and kicking the shabby comforter to the foot of the bed. They curl up under the sheets. Kurt purposefully ignores the chiding voice in the back of his head that tells him this mattress probably isn't the cleanest, but he's still too drunk and now too sated to give a damn.

He snuggles close and rests his head against Blaine's chest, draping an arm over his middle.

            "Tonight was perfect," Blaine says softly, carding his fingers through Kurt's mussed hair.

            "It really was," Kurt agrees.

            "Goodnight, Kurt."

            "Mmm," Kurt hums in response. "Night, Blaine."

The alcohol saps them of their energy in a way that even sex can't, and their heavy eyelids fall shut. With lazy limbs, full hearts, and soft smiles of their faces, they succumb to sleep.

-

When the sun peeks through the slight crack in the curtains covering the window, it's bright enough to drag Kurt back into the land of the conscious, groaning in frustration as he squints against the light. It takes him a moment to remember where he is, and when he realizes why he isn't in his own bed, the memories of last night come rushing back into his mind all at once.

Right, they went to Scandal's. And he ran into Luke. And then he got drunk. And they got a motel room. And Blaine let Kurt put his fingers in his ass.

Wow.

Even though his mouth is disgustingly dry and feels like something died on his tongue, he has to grin into the morning sun because wow.

He rolls over to see Blaine's head on the pillow next to his, hair a mess and snoring slightly. It kind of scares Kurt that he could get used to this; Blaine naked and asleep at his side, a boy to warm his bed, a boy to kiss before he sleeps.

It would be a perfect view if the bed didn't smell like dust and the room wasn't so...gross.

With a quick glance to the clock on the bedside table, Kurt sees that it's nearly ten in the morning. He vaguely remembers the lobby attendant telling him that check out is at noon, but they probably shouldn't overstay their welcome. He'd texted his dad last night to tell him that he'd be staying the night at Mercedes' and he doesn't want to push his luck with the lie.

            "Blaine," he says softly, giving his shoulder a gentle shake. "Blaine."

Blaine mumbles something unintelligible, but then he cracks an eye open and glares at Kurt.

            "Sleep," he says flatly.

            "It's almost ten," Kurt says. "We still have to walk back to the bar and get my car."

            "Sleep."

            "No sleep," Kurt says, suppressing a snort. "Time to get up."

            "But sleep," Blaine groans, burying his face in the pillow.

He pauses. He lifts his head. He looks to Kurt.

            "Why does my pillow smell stale?"

            "Because we got drunk and had sex in a sleazy motel room. Remember?"

            "Oh," Blaine says, scrunching up his face. After a beat, he gives a toothy grin. "Oh."

            "You remember now, don't you?"

            "I do," Blaine says happily before propping himself up on his elbows. "It was awesome."

            "Yeah?" Kurt asks warily, sitting and pulling his knees up beneath the sheet.

            "Definitely."

            "So, you're not - um, all those things I said. You're not upset?"

            "What? Upset about what?"

            "I'm sure there's a cheating handbook somewhere," Kurt explains. "And I'll bet there's an entire chapter dedicated to not bringing up your lover's girlfriend during sex."

            "What're you - oh," Blaine says slowly. "When you were asking me if I thought about fucking you when I kissed her?"

Kurt flushes bright red. He hangs his head in embarrassment.

            "Yes. That."

            "Why would I be upset?" Blaine wonders. "It was the truth."

            "It - what? It is?"

            "Well, yeah. The only way I can even pretend to be into her when she kisses me anymore is to think of you. Though it's not like we've been having super intense make out sessions as of late."

            "You haven't?" Kurt asks in confusion. "But I thought you were around her all the time."

            "I am," Blaine says. "I try to steer clear of the lip locking, though."

            "You don't think she'll realize something's, you know, off?"

            "We've been together for two years and we've never gone past making out," Blaine reminds. "Our relationship isn't exactly one based on that kind of intimacy."

            "Oh. Right."

            "To answer your question, though - no. It didn't upset me. In the heat of the moment, it was actually really hot."

If it's even physically possible, Kurt blushes harder.

            "Don't you go all shy on me now," Blaine says, shuffling over to lean up and press a kiss to Kurt's naked shoulder. "You had your fingers up my ass. The time for shy has passed, darling."

            "Are you sore?" Kurt asks, suddenly remembering the discomfort he always feels the next day after he does it to himself.

            "Yup," Blaine says happily. "And I don't even care."

            "You're sure?"

            "I'm more concerned about the fact that we actually slept in this bed. I'm going to take like, three showers when I get home."

-

Monday morning dawns far too early for Kurt's liking. His Sunday had passed without incident; all he did was shower and do homework. Even Finn failed to make an appearance and that, in itself, had been strange. He'd flirted with Blaine via text message for most of the day, so he can at least call that a win.

He's running late today, though, which means he didn't have time to stop for coffee on the way to school, so his brain isn't completely awake yet. As such, there's nothing in his system to prepare him for the two tests he has today and the act he always has to put on around Blaine at school. He sighs to himself and pulls open one of the main doors to enter McKinley.

As soon as the door closes behind him, he knows something is dreadfully wrong.

It feels as if the entire world stops, tilts, and zooms in on him and him alone. He feels the familiar burn of judgmental stares on his face, and he freezes in his tracks when he realizes that they are staring. Everyone is staring.

And they're all staring directly at him without shame, not even attempting to hide their scrutiny. His stomach twists dangerously and he swallows down his fear. It takes every last bit of strength and courage in his body just to move his feet again, but he does continue walking towards his locker. As he passes, whispers break out in abundance and everyone chatters behind their hands, their textbooks, and what appears to be the school newspaper.

Suddenly, Mercedes is there and holding a school paper of her own.

            "Why didn't you tell me?" she asks in angry, hushed tones, eyes darting to gossiping passersby. "I thought we were best friends."

            "What?" he asks. "You are my best friend."

            "Then why am I finding out about all of this at the same time as everyone else?"

            "...Okay. I woke up late, I have no caffeine in my system, I just got here about thirty seconds ago, and I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

At that, Mercedes' eyes widen in horror.

            "You haven't-" she lowers her voice, "you haven't seen the paper yet?"

            "Since when do you read the school newspaper?" Kurt asks. "You know it's all gossip and lies and blind items."

            "It's a bit more believable when there are multiple pictures of your best friend hanging outside a sleazy motel with Blaine Anderson."

Kurt can feel the color leave his face. He stares at her with large, fearful eyes, not even bothering to blink as she holds up the paper for his benefit.

There, littering the front page, are half a dozen pictures of them outside of the motel they'd been at this weekend. There's one of them walking into the lobby, one of them walking out, a couple of them kissing, and another of them at the door of their room with drunk, happy smiles on their faces. It's all there, quite literally, in black and white. Kurt can make out their forms and faces and expressions perfectly. No mistakes, no photo editing, only facts.

The article below the largest picture, one of them with their arms around each other and kissing, reads:

Scandal Near Scandal's?

McKinley's resident gay, Kurt Hummel, was seen snuggling up to Blaine Anderson outside of the American Family motel. Despite the misleading name, the American Family motel is a notorious location for gay hookups given its quarter mile displacement from Scandal's, the well known gay bar in west Lima. The couple stumbled into a room around one in the morning this past weekend, holding onto each other and kissing passionately (yes, on the lips!). While Kurt Hummel is known to be single, Blaine Anderson is openly dating the school's queen of show choir, Miss Rachel Berry. Watch out, Rachel! It looks like your boyfriend needs to get his facts straight!

When he finishes reading the short article, Kurt chokes down a terrified sob and wishes he could disappear.

This is disastrous.

And then is gets implausibly worse.

Because Blaine walks in.