“Kurt.”

I open my eyes.

Meanwhile Kurt moves to my neck and gently starts to suck the skin. My heart speeds up, and the memories, the memories of us hit me so fiercely that I have to take a deep breath.

“Kurt, stop,” I manage to say.

He ignores me.

Instead, he rolls me on my back and his mouth begins to travel down my chest. When he reaches the hem of my boxers, he slips his fingers under the material and pulls them in one swift motion.

“Kurt!”

He plants gentle kisses up the length of my cock, licking slightly at the head, and without warning takes me into his mouth. My loud moan echoes around the walls and self-loathing for a moment takes away my ability to speak.

“Kurt…” I groan. “Y-you have a boyfriend...”

It works. He moves away from me.

He pulls his knees to his chest and begins to rock back and forth.

“Not anymore,” he whispers. “He left me… That’s why I’m here. He… He threw me out.”

For a moment I think I’ve misheard him.

“He did what?”

Kurt bursts into tears.

Without a word I take him in my arms and rock him slowly, until he falls asleep. The fever comes back, I realize. It also occurs to me that his kisses were a sort of payment for my hospitality.

I feel sick.

Kurt’s fever lasts over the next few days, but he never gives up on seducing me. It seems that he completely can’t accept the fact that he’s still sick, and that there’s so many other reasons why sleeping with him right now would be a horrible idea. Kurt isn’t the only one who doesn’t want to give up. Meanwhile, snowstorm doesn’t seem to have an end, and I become a prisoner of my own home.

Until it suddenly stops.

Luckily, I have to return to work soon, and Kurt doesn’t mind. He’s still sick and a little feverish, but he’s strong enough to take care of himself without me being around.

My shift passes too quickly, and soon I return to the apartment, my own prison I used to call home. I say a brief hello to Kurt, informing him that we have to talk as soon as I’m finished with shower, and I go to the bathroom. I strip of my clothes, and this is when I realize that I forgot to take my pajamas. Fuck, as usual. Except that before, I could have simply marched there naked. But now I’m not alone. I bite my lip, wrapping a towel around my waist, and I go back to the bedroom.

And this is when the unexpected happens. And that unexpected thing is clearly waiting for me.
What I see on the bed takes my breath away. My towel drops on the floor, but I find myself with no strength to pick it up.

“No,” I say simply before Kurt has a chance to speak.
It’s sort of funny.

Kurt didn’t say anything, but we still understand each other without words. Of course, few years ago such situation would have never happened. Kurt wouldn’t be lying in my bed in this position, completely naked and with such expression. I don’t know this Kurt. He’s a complete stranger. It can’t be someone I knew. My Kurt would whisper “Make love to me” with his cheeks becoming slightly more colorful than few seconds ago, and of course I would, because I loved him so much.

But the man in my bed demands to fuck him.

“I know you want to,” Kurt purrs, and with the effort my eyes wander back to his face. Kurt’s cheeks are red, but it’s definitely not a healthy, shy blush. It’s just a fever. If it wasn’t for that, I would think that this boy, this man in my bed is just a ghost of the past, just a memory, and I myself have gone crazy long time ago. But his weakness calms me down. In the end, ghosts don’t get sick.

Somehow I mange to find my own voice.

“No, I don’t,” I say firmly.

I’m still naked and I realize that my erection belies words. But I know I can do this. I sit down next to Kurt, and I touch his forehead, ignoring disappointment on his face. The temperature has dropped slightly, I notice, but he’s still hot.

“I’ll give you some aspirin,” I say. “Can you try to go back to sleep for a bit longer?”

Kurt doesn’t respond.

Instead, with a shocking strength for a sick person, he grabs me by the hips, and pulls me towards himself. And with that simple trick, he wins the whole battle.

At this point I don’t care that he’s sick. I don’t care that we shouldn’t. Right now, I don’t even care if Kurt’s using me. Because that silly part of me tells me that I can replace that asshole who left him. I can make Kurt feel better. In that very moment, I even feel like I can love him again.

We crush our lips together, and for a second it’s hard to tell who tops, and who bottoms. The whole world is spinning. Those aren’t kisses I’m used to, and it’s not Kurt I remember. But when one of us grinds our hips together, and Kurt throws his head back with my name on his lips, I stop caring. But I can’t shut off the brain, and I don’t quite understand everything. Kurt’s body is impossibly hot under mine. I have no idea why would he possibly want it, want me. If it wasn’t for the heat from his body, I’d think he’s been only simulating. How can you be so sick and still have strength to do these kind of stuff with someone? I’m not even talking about wanting. For a short moment, I want to ask him, I want to protest, but Kurt shuts my mouth with a kiss, and he rolls me on my back to hover above me. He straddles me and slowly lowers his hips on mine, pinning my wrists to the mattress to make sure he still has all of the control. I’m not even pretending that it’s not true.

“Where…?” Kurt asks.

“In the nightstand,” I murmur, resigned. "First drawer.”
Kurt smiles softly and bends to reach for the condoms and lube, without leaving my lap. He moves back and sits on my legs.

“Let me,” I whisper, but Kurt smiles again and presses a finger to his lips while shaking his head.

“Shh.”

Looks like I don’t have anything to say tonight.

He gently teases his own entrance with his fingertips, pushing the first finger inside with a low moan escaping his throat, and then after he adjusted, another one. He starts to slowly move them in and out, with his other hand slowly stroking his cock. I’ve never seen anything like it. Kurt throws his head back, and closes his eyes. He looks amazing with those pink cheeks, sweat dripping down his neck, and long eyelashes leaving shadows on his light skin. I can see from the way his moans increase that he knows his body very well, and when he presses the third finger inside moaning loudly, for a moment I have the urge to throw him off me, and tie him up to the headboard of my bed. But I don’t do any of those things. Mainly because I’m not really sure if I would have won.

Finally, Kurt pulls out his fingers, and rolls a condom onto my cock, slicking it with lube. He’s playing with me, pressing every delicate spot on my body with his teasing fingertips, but all the hate I feel to him at his moment is blinded when he raises his hips, letting me enter him.

For a second it feels like the world just stopped.

Kurt’s eyes are closed again, and by the way his eyes are squeezed tightly, I can see he still needs to adjust. I want to say something, and he seems to know it, because he raises a finger to his lips, silently telling me “No”. I don’t protest. After some time Kurt finally raises his eyelids and smiles softly, then he bends down, pressing another long, lingering kiss to my lips. When he moves away, his face is fully focused. He bites his lower lip in exact same way I remembered it, and it makes my heart ache. Memories close my eyes, but I wave them off. Those Kurt and Blaine are long gone, and there’s no reason to cry about it.

Kurt balances himself, putting his hands on the headboard and raising his hips a little, just to lower himself down again. I’m not sure whose scream is louder, mine or his, but after a while we’re both moaning, as our hips slowly begin to rock together, building steady rhythm. Bed squeaks loudly underneath us, and I find myself grabbing desperately to that sound, just to make sure it’s not a dream, and that this beautiful boy is really above me. Kurt doesn’t even try to keep me quiet anymore. I’m holding his hips, driving my nails into his sensitive skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice or maybe he just wants to be marked. Maybe he needs to believe that his is really happening, just like I do.

When I reach between his legs to stroke him, he bats my hand away, and again presses a finger to his lips, reminding me who’s really in control.

“You can only lie there,” he seems to say.

I obey, lowering my hands.

Kurt closes his eyes and throws his head back, his hand quickening his pace against his erection. This view is driving me crazy, so I try to focus on his face. The perfect, usually pale skin is still flushed and his lips repeat my name like a mantra. Right now, I’m not sure what’s redder – Kurt’s swollen lips or his cheeks. Once again he screams my name and his hand slows down.

Kurt’s eyes flutter open, and he bites his lips hard enough to draw a blood, and I’ve never seen someone who would orgasm this way. It makes you fall apart too. Kurt falls down on my chest and I come few seconds later, leaving nail scratches all over his back. For awhile we simply lie there, not able to move, not able to do anything. We just listen to each other’s heartbeats. I fall asleep first or maybe we both fall asleep at the same time. I don’t know. I can still feel Kurt’s breath against my neck when my mind is floating away. I think he’s whispering something to me, but I’m not strong enough to listen.

When I wake up the next day with a fever, I’m still not sure if that whole night wasn’t just a dream. I’ve had many crazy dreams in my life before. But then comes another fantasy. And another. And another. And the marks on Kurt’s hips never fade away. My fantasies don’t seem to come right away, they appear after few days, when I come down from my fever, feeling slightly better. When I come back to my senses, Kurt tells me that everything was real, that those crazy dreams were not fantasies, they were memories, and I’m not sure what to do about that fact.

Kurt feels much better, and he takes care of me when I’m not strong enough to get up from bed. Now he’s the one who’s offering the aspirin. For the next week, no matter how we feel, we fuck, and then we get sick all over again just when my strength comes back.

I think sex is all we have left.

We don’t talk much.

Sometimes Kurt cries in my arms, and I simply stroke his hair until he falls asleep. I never ask about anything. I don’t know what to say. In his dreams, he whispers random names, unknown names, and I don’t think I want to know what place did those people have in Kurt’s life. I’m scared of his past, just like he seems to be afraid of it. That’s why we usually end up talking about the future, occasionally about what we have here and now. We never look back. Sometimes we just lie next to each other, quietly. We think. I don’t know what Kurt thinks about these days, but I never stop wondering what happened to us. He might be too. We’re both trying to forget the past. That’s the only thing I’m sure of.

Kurt’s smell mixes in my mind with the scent of sex.