One more night quickly becomes multiple times a week (only because Rachel locks herself in her room after rehearsals to practice her solos for West Side Story), and even though Kurt feels a little sad when he sees Blaine's arm slung around Rachel's shoulders in the hallway, he finds he doesn't really care when Blaine's hand is down his pants.

            "I've never - not to another guy," Blaine says into the sticky warm air of his car.

            "Just - twist your hand - oh, god, like that," Kurt moans against Blaine's shoulder.

            "Like this?" Blaine breathes, twisting his hand with every upstroke.

They only have a few minutes, and Blaine's grip is a bit too dry, a bit too rough, but the novelty of actually having another boy's hand wrapped around his dick is enough to allow Kurt to overlook such innocuous things. He thrusts up into Blaine's palm as much as he can with his jeans tight around his thighs. Blaine ruts up against his side, panting in his exertion, and Kurt curls his fingers around Blaine's bicep.

He can feel the muscles clenching beneath Blaine's skin. He can feel the hard press of Blaine's dick through his jeans. He can feel Blaine's heavy breath against the shell of his ear.

And he can feel the way Blaine's thumb drags over the head of his dick, causing him to gasp and writhe.

Kurt is just there on the edge of release, and he knows he's babbling nonsense at this point but he can't help it. He needs to come. He's supposed to be inside his house in a few minutes and he needs to or he thinks he'll go fucking crazy.

            "B-Blaine," he stammers, "I - please, I need to-"

            "Come," Blaine demands.

            "I can't - god, I can't walk inside with come all over my-"

            "Come on my hand," Blaine says, pressing a kiss to Kurt's temple. "Do it, come on my hand."

            "But you'll-"

            "Want you to," Blaine continues, still grinding against Kurt's naked hip. "Want to feel it. Want it all over my fingers."

Dear god. Kurt gasps as Blaine continues to jerk him with his eager hand, as if prepared to forcibly drag Kurt's orgasm from his body.

            "Blaine," Kurt groans, burying his face in the crook of Blaine's neck.

            "Want you to come on my fingers and I - I want to lick them clean and - and taste you," Blaine whispers, his voice raw and ragged. "Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad, Kurt."

And that image, one of Blaine swirling his tongue around come-covered fingers, is enough to tip Kurt over the edge. He comes with a shout, spilling himself all over Blaine's fist. Only a few drops splash against the edge of his abdomen, but he can't be bothered with those as he rides out the fleeting pleasure of orgasm in Blaine's warm, come-slick grip.

When that hand abandons him, Kurt finally lifts his head from Blaine's shoulder to see Blaine's tentative tongue sneak out between his lips to lick at his palm.

Blaine's eyes fall shut. He moans.

Kurt can only watch in fascination as Blaine laps at the rapidly drying come covering his hand. Even though he knows he's staring with too-wide eyes, he can't look away because holy shit.

Holy shit.

He never knew something so dirty could be so damn hot.

And he is never going to get that image out of his head. They don't get enough time together like this, at least not for Kurt. They rarely have time for orgasms, let alone dirty, vivid descriptions in the middle of it all.

            "Jesus," Blaine says after his fingers are mostly clean. "I...have no idea where that came from."

            "Neither do I," Kurt says with a breathless laugh. "But I think I'm into it."

            "You - really?"

            "Maybe not all the time. But it's definitely something I'm interested in hearing again."

            "Duly noted," Blaine says, his grin threatening to take over his face. "For the record, I can't believe that I ever thought I was straight."

            "Why do you say that?"

            "Because I will never get tired of the taste of your come."

-

Even when they're not rolling around on a bed or sneaking in some alone time in the back of a car, Kurt feels giddy inside. Sure, he feels slightly guilty about sneaking behind everyone's backs, especially Rachel Berry's, but he can't help the happiness that bubbles in his stomach every time he sees Blaine at school. There is jealousy there, too, but for the weeks following Thanksgiving, Kurt feels like he's on cloud nine.

He has a boyfriend.

Well, okay, maybe not a real boyfriend. Blaine might not be his exclusively, but he has someone to laugh with, someone to kiss, and someone to hold. He has a beautiful boy who likes drinking coffee and listening to Broadway soundtracks on vinyl. He has Blaine, gorgeous, silly Blaine who admits his secret love for comic books. Some nights, when they're too exhausted from Glee or West Side Story rehearsals to fool around, they'll sit at Starbucks together for an hour while Blaine reads his comics and Kurt flips through Vogue. They do it with warm cups of coffee, their ankles barely brushing, and shy smiles on their faces.

When time is on their side, though, they pass it by learning each other's bodies using their lips, tongues, and hands. Kurt discovers the birthmark along Blaine's spine, and he thinks he could spend hours placing kisses there. Blaine notices the barely-there freckles dotting Kurt's pale shoulders, and he traces them with his fingertips like he's creating some kind of constellation that matches the stars in his eyes. It's a bit crazy how they can go from quick, dirty hand jobs in the back seat of a car to lazing nakedly like they have all the time in the world.

            "I like this spot right here," Kurt says one night when they're curled around each other in Blaine's bed thanks to his empty house. He presses his thumb gently into the dip inside one of Blaine's hip bones. The skin there is soft and smooth, and it calls to Kurt's fingers like a siren in a storm.

            "Why's that?" Blaine asks softly, kissing the top of Kurt's head where it rests on his shoulder.

            "I think it's because I'm the only one who gets to touch you here. That's my guess, anyway."

            "There are plenty of other places you get to touch that no one else does, though."

            "I know," Kurt says. "But I like this one."

            "I think you like them all," Blaine teases, nuzzling his nose into Kurt's hair.

            "Hmm," Kurt hums in return, sliding his hand closer to Blaine's growing erection. "I guess I do."

He hears Blaine sigh in contentment as Kurt puts that wandering hand to better use by stroking Blaine until he's fully hard. Kurt presses a kiss to the bit of Blaine's chest that his lips can reach.

            "I love it when you touch me," Blaine whispers. "It doesn't even matter where; I just like it when your hands are on me."

            "Liar," Kurt says, a coy tone to his words and he lifts his head to peer into Blaine's eyes. "You know you like this best."

            "Well, it's definitely in my top three."

            "Oh, yeah? What're the other two?"

A pink flush rises to Blaine's cheeks that has nothing to do with Kurt's hand around his dick. Kurt lifts an eyebrow in question and Blaine wraps a hand around Kurt's wrist in order to drag it away from his erection. He guides Kurt's hand slowly, gently, until he lifts his hips and Kurt's palm is spread against the round swell of his ass.

            "Here," Blaine admits, looking far too shy for his own good.

            "I could've guessed that," Kurt drawls, though he's unable to resist giving Blaine's ass a firm squeeze.

            "Probably," Blaine says with a chuckle, tugging Kurt's hand back around as he resettles his hips on the bed.

But then his eyes soften and his grin falls away, leaving Kurt momentarily perplexed. Blaine begins dragging Kurt's hand upward, over the bones framing his persistent erection, over the soft, bare skin of his stomach until he reaches his chest. There, he places Kurt's hand, palm down and fingers splayed, just over the steady beat of his heart.

            "This, though," Blaine reveals, "this is my favorite."

That's when Kurt knows that their mantra of ‘one more night, one more time' will never hold true. They're merely words to assuage their guilt.

-

            "Okay, guys," Mr. Schue begins to say at the start of Glee rehearsal, "I know we're all really busy with opening West Side Story this Friday and we haven't had any time to celebrate the holidays beyond the usual decorations, but winter break is just a week and a half away and I want you guys to have a chance to get into the spirit of things. For some of you, this is your last Christmas here. It might be the last chance to share the holidays together. And I know we're cutting it close this year; it's taken a while to get West Side Story off the ground, but I think you're all going to be amazing. So, with that being said, I thought we could-"

            "Blaine and I have the perfect Christmas duet!" Rachel squeals excitedly, already dragging Blaine from his chair and up to the front of the classroom.

            "You know," Santana drawls, "for being Jewish, you sure do sing a lot of Christmas songs."

Kurt wishes he could give Santana a high five.

            "It happens to be advantageous to keep a wide range of selections in my musical repertoire," Rachel argues. "I know a few Kwanzaa songs, too."

            "Unbelievable," Santana mutter under her breath.

            "We'd be glad to hear what you've prepared," Mr. Schue says with a pointed look toward the class. "Take it away, guys."

Rachel gives a decisive nod and a wide smile before rushing over to whisper something in Piano Brad's ear. The man rolls his eyes, Kurt notices, but when his fingers are poised to play, Rachel takes her place at Blaine's side. Blaine looks to swallow hard, but then he plasters on his usual grin as they dive into the song.

            "I really can't stay..."

            "But baby, it's cold outside."

            "I've got to go away..."

            "But baby, it's cold outside."

They dance together, spinning and flirting and touching, Blaine's hands on Rachel's waist and Kurt feels like he's going to be sick. Usually Rachel is too busy stealing the spotlight for duets, but Kurt can deal with that. This, though, this cat-and-mouse with fluttering eyelashes and the way Blaine drags his finger over Rachel's lips when the song talks about them looking delicious, this just makes Kurt's heart hurt. It's worse than when he watches them in the hallway or at lunch, but he has no idea why. Now, he just feels the tears welling in his eyes. Maybe it's because he and Blaine had been talking about Christmas songs just a few days ago, and this very song came on the radio when they were in the car. Maybe it's because they talked about performing it together one day and shocking conservative audiences at some big Christmas festival with such a beautiful, flawless cover of it.

Maybe it's because, somewhere in the back of Kurt's mind, he started thinking of this as their Christmas song. Never mind the content; they could do it justice as two talented performers in a way people might not expect.

But seeing this now, with Blaine swirling Rachel and dragging her to him where they fit like puzzle pieces, this makes him want to forget the song even exists.

He applauds politely when the song ends even though he wants to curl up and cry until he simply can't anymore.

Later, he receives a text from Blaine.

I wish I could've done that song with you.

Yeah. Me, too.

-

It only takes that last week for cloud nine to dissipate and reform in the shape of a hurricane.

 He's grateful for the fact that the show comes to an end soon. He's so unbelievably tired of watching Blaine play Rachel's love interest on stage. There's enough of that in real life, thanks very much, especially after their cloyingly sweet rendition of Baby, It's Cold Outside a few days ago. What's worse is the fact that, despite the swell of pride he feels during the standing ovation they receive on opening night, Rachel is apparently stealing Blaine away for the evening. Kurt had been hoping to have an hour or so with Blaine after the show, but now he knows he won't get Blaine alone until god knows when. Rachel will want every spare minute of her leading man's time until their last matinee performance on Sunday afternoon, and probably more.

He sees the apologetic look Blaine tosses him as Rachel tugs him through the backstage door, but it doesn't lessen Kurt's disappointment.

After Kurt removes his makeup, his costume, and performs a thorough skin-cleansing routine in the bathroom, he finds he's the last one of the group to leave. He hangs his head sullenly, making his way through the hall without haste. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

Just as he passes the backstage door, though, he finds that it's still open. He peeks inside to investigate the sound of feet on the stage, only to see Blaine in his rehearsal clothing and practicing one of the dance numbers by himself.

            "Hey," Kurt greets just as Blaine ends a spin.

            "What - oh, hey," Blaine replies, slightly out of breath. "I thought I was the only one left."

            "The stage makeup is horrible for my complexion," Kurt explains. "I didn't want to wait to get home for a proper cleansing."

            "Gotcha."

            "What're you still doing here? I thought you were going to Artie's after party with Rachel."

            "I'm going," Blaine says. "But I messed up some of the moves tonight and I wanted to rehearse them a few more times. I can do better."

            "Blaine, you were amazing tonight," Kurt says, taking a few steps toward Blaine. "Why do you-"

            "Considering the list of things I did wrong that Rachel pointed out, I figure a bit more rehearsal can't hurt."

            "She's not your director," Kurt argues. "If Artie didn't have any notes for you, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

            "Maybe not. But I don't feel like listening to her critiques for the rest of the night. Her dads are letting me stay over and I'd rather not have her going on about everything I did wrong when I'm trying to go to sleep."

Kurt's stomach twists into a knot at the implication of Blaine and Rachel sharing a bed. Even though he's fully aware of Blaine's lack of attraction to Rachel, the thought of Rachel curling up to him in the middle of the night, of Blaine's arm tight around her waist in sleep, it all leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

            "Oh," Kurt says lamely. "I didn't know you were staying over. I guess...that means I can't call you tonight."

            "Better not," Blaine agrees with a nod. "She might start asking questions."

            "You know, if you'd talk to me in public more often, it wouldn't be so weird."

            "...What do you mean?"

            "We just - I don't know. Even though we're...what we are, it's still doesn't seem like we're friends."

            "What - of course we're friends," Blaine states.

            "Yeah, behind closed doors."

Blaine groans in frustration, running a hand over his face.

            "Kurt, you know I can't-"

            "I'm not talking about coming out or anything like that," Kurt says quickly. "But there's nothing wrong with letting people know that we're friends. We've been at this for a while now, you know? What's the harm in letting people know that we talk or - or have coffee occasionally. We're both into music and theatre, so it's not like we don't have anything in common. Being friends isn't a crime."

            "I never said it was."

            "Then why don't you ever talk to me when we're in school?" Kurt asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Even though he understands why Blaine wants to keep their relationship a secret, he can't help the jealousy that hovers just beneath the surface of his skin. He's had to spend the last week avoiding Blaine during dress rehearsals because Rachel won't leave his side. He hasn't even been able to see Blaine outside of school or rehearsal and knowing that Blaine is spending all that extra time with Rachel is making him go slightly crazy. "Why don't you act like we're friends? Or am I too much of a loser to be seen associating with you in public?"

            "Just - just stop doing that," Blaine says. "You know that's not what I think."

            "I think you're content to have your cake and eat it, too," Kurt snaps, knowing he's at the end of his tether. They may be keeping their relationship a secret, but that doesn't mean they have to keep their friendship a secret. "You keep saying I'm you friend, but nothing changes. Even after we kissed on the couch after Rachel's party and before I saw you at Scandal's, all you ever did was text me. You didn't talk to me in front of anyone, you never asked me to eat lunch with you, and even though you sat next to me in Glee, you barely even looked at me. Now it feels like you're not even trying. It's like - like you're fine with Rachel being your girlfriend and keeping me on the side. And even though you're not ready to come out yet, I thought that you were working up to that."

            "It's not that easy and you know it."

            "No," Kurt says. "I don't know that. Because we don't talk about it anymore."

            "Yes, we-"

            "No. We don't. The only time you ever mention Rachel anymore is when you tell me that you have to spend time with her, meaning you can't spend time with me."

            "Because I know that talking about her makes you uncomfortable!"

            "I never said that."

            "You don't have to," Blaine says. "I see the way you look at us when she's next to me. You always look like you've tasted something sour and you know what? It kills me to see you look like that."

            "I can't help the way I feel," Kurt says under his breath.

            "And I can't help the fact that, when I'm around you, all I want to do is pull you in for a kiss. No matter who we're around or where we are," Blaine says.

            "You - what?" Kurt asks, feeling slightly thrown.

            "Christ," Blaine mumbles, shaking his head. "Do you seriously think I don't want to be your friend in public?"

            "Well...yeah."

Kurt lowers his head, suddenly feeling a bit foolish even though he doesn't totally understand what Blaine is trying to say.

            "Kurt," Blaine says in a soft tone, stepping forward in order to place his hands on Kurt's shoulders. "No. Just - just no."

            "I don't understand," Kurt admits, trying not to sound too pathetic.

            "It's hard for me," Blaine attempts to explain. "It's really hard for me to be around you and not touch you. I'm not talking about touching in that way. I'm talking about little things. Like, I'll be sitting next to you in Glee and all I want to do is hold your hand or pull your chair closer to mine. I can't walk up to you in the hallway because I know I'll want to kiss you or - or wrap my arms around your waist. Even looking at you too long is difficult. So I...don't. Because it's easier to stay away from you. Well, okay, it's not easier, but it keeps me from doing something that might start rumors."

Brushing away a stray tear that escapes from his eye, Kurt shrugs and folds his arms around his middle. He feels stupid and needy and clingy and all sorts of things right now.

            "Remember when you came to my house before Thanksgiving and Finn saw us on the porch?" Kurt asks.

            "I do."

            "And you said - you said you didn't want me to feel like you were ashamed of me. Well, I didn't. At least, not then. But it - it's been almost a month since then and now...I do."

Blaine's eyes widen in what appears to be horror, and Kurt immediately finds himself in Blaine's strong embrace, surrounded by his familiar scent and warm body. Kurt breathes deeply, willing himself not to cry anymore. He hates that he's been feeling so lonely this past week with Blaine just out of his reach.

            "I could never be ashamed of you," Blaine whispers into his ear. "Never."

            "But it feels like you're still okay with keeping me as - as a backup plan," Kurt confides. "Like you're resigned to staying with her. Or maybe you're...more into her than you say you are. And it scares me."

            "You have nothing," Blaine says, pulling away to peer into Kurt's eyes, "to be scared of."

            "But-"

            "No." Blaine grapples for Kurt's hands, squeezing them in his own before placing them against Kurt's chest over his racing heart. "This is where I am. It's my favorite place, remember?"

            "I thought your heart was your favorite place for me to touch."

            "It is," Blaine says. "But this is my favorite place to be. Right here in your heart. Because you're always in mine. No matter where I am or who I'm with, I'm in here with you. Every time your heart beats, it's - that's me, okay? It's me telling you that I'm here."

            "But you're always with her and-"

            "Kurt," Blaine interrupts, "Rachel doesn't mean anything to me."

The words hit Kurt hard. The last time they'd discussed Rachel, Blaine was still on the fence in regards to whether or not he loved her in whatever capacity. But this - for him to say that she means nothing - is definitely a step in the right direction for them.

Any other argument Kurt might have is silenced by Blaine's lips on his, warm and smooth and a little salty from the tears that seem to have slipped from his eyes. Blaine tightens his fingers around Kurt's waist and Kurt drapes his arms over Blaine's shoulders, content to forego air for the rest of his life if Blaine can just keep kissing him like this forever. The longer they kiss, the quicker his pulse becomes and with every sharp beat, he hears Blaine's voice in his head:

I'm here.

I'm here.

I'm here.

Kurt decides Blaine had been wrong in that text message he sent a long time ago; secrets are definitely fun when they aren't for everyone. And for now, Kurt's okay with being Blaine's best kept secret as long as he can remember this moment. He just doesn't know how much longer he'll be okay with that.

They're too caught up in each other to hear the soft click of a door closing somewhere at the back of the house, somewhere in the dark.