Chapter 17

"Ow!" Quinn exclaimed. "You're sticking me."

"Well, hold still," Kurt chastised.

For weeks he had been visiting Quinn at the Fabray home, collaborating with her on designs, taking and re-taking measurements to accommodate each tweak and change, and they were finally having the first fitting. Mrs. Fabray had initially thought it odd for Kurt to be undertaking his work inside someone's home, but Blaine had reasoned with her that because Kurt's shop was in an unsavory part of town, he would feel more comfortable if they conducted the fittings elsewhere. As predicted, Judith had extended a gracious invitation to Kurt, practically guaranteeing Kurt and Blaine close proximity until the wedding.

Since Blaine had shown up unannounced at Kurt's apartment, things were beginning to feel like St. Augustine all over again; Blaine finding the odd afternoon to shirk his obligations — stolen moments in coat closets, discreet trips to the baths, luncheons where they didn't actually eat — all under the guise of business meetings at Kurt's shop or visits to Sam's office, both appropriate excuses for Blaine's frequent absences.

Even though they couldn't be together every moment, and Blaine still intended to marry, Kurt actually liked working with Quinn; it turned out they shared a similar aesthetic and the few features she had asked for worked well with the design Kurt had dreamed up. The oversized sleeves were the height of fashion, but it was the details that Kurt added that really made the dress unique.

"Mr. Hummel, I still can't quite believe I'm getting married, let alone wearing this exquisite gown." Quinn paused as she studied her own reflection in the mirror. "You don't think the sleeves are too big, do you?"

Looking up at her from where he was kneeling to adjust the length of the hem, Kurt nearly spit out the pins he held between his lips and yet somehow still managed to speak around them. "I thought you said you trusted me."

"I do," she said. "I just don't trust my own taste." She smiled down at Kurt in her wonderfully self-deprecating way that he had grown to admire.

"Your taste is fine," Kurt said. "You hired me, didn't you?"

Quinn's bright laughter was almost musical, her soft blonde curls falling to frame her face as she ducked her head behind her hand. "I'm going to miss your wit when we're done with this dress business."

Kurt hid his frown behind the folds of Quinn's dress. "I'm going to miss you as well, Miss Fabray." But the truth was, he would miss Blaine even more.

Kurt watched as Quinn studied her face in the mirror for a moment, tilting her head to the side and squinting her green eyes.

"What's the trouble?" Kurt asked.

"Do you think it needs... something?"

Standing up, Kurt looked her over from head to toe. It was a simple design, but far from basic. The champagne-colored silk was decorated with a damask pattern, and the sleeves were nearly as big around as Quinn's waist, but were tailored tightly below the elbow and flared out at the wrist to reveal a layer of decadent lace peeking out from beneath the silk. It was stunning, but Quinn was right; the dress needed something — or maybe he needed it to have something. Kurt leaned in to examine the fabric, as if the secret he was hoping to unlock was hidden in the beading or perhaps the seams. As he leaned in, he caught a familiar scent.

"Your perfume," Kurt said, inhaling deeply again. "It's..." He furrowed his brow and sniffed again. "It's so familiar, but I can't quite place it."

Quinn beamed. "It's orange blossom. I bought it in St. Augustine. Isn't it divine?"

"It's my favorite," Kurt said. "The orange groves were positively drunk with it."

"Blaine said practically the same thing," Quinn said, looking amused.

"Did he?" Kurt said, his voice coming out high and breathy.

Quinn chuckled and patted Kurt on the shoulder. "I swear sometimes you two share a mind." She turned away and began running her hands down the front of her dress, not paying Kurt any mind for the moment.

Suddenly Kurt was back in the orange groves adjacent to the Ponce, the night air chilly and damp; Blaine's eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He wanted to stay in the memory forever, but he was pulled from it with a spark of an idea.

"Orange blossoms," Kurt murmured.

"Yes..." Quinn said, looking confused. "What about them?"

"You should wear orange blossoms," he said, grinning broadly.

"Do you think that would be fashionable?"

"Oh, it's exceedingly fashionable, and not to mention good luck. We can put some in your hair, or near the neck of the dress..." Kurt trailed off as he set about fussing over Quinn, imaging where he could decorate her gown with the tiny flowers. "It will be so perfect, considering where you met."

He barely realized he was talking to himself more than Quinn.

Kurt found himself uncharacteristically quiet for the remainder of their appointment, only speaking when he needed her to lift an arm or to ask her to stand up straighter.

They had just finished the fitting when the Fabrays' butler announced Blaine's arrival.

"Let him in," Kurt said. "Miss Fabray is decent."

But Blaine was already standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame and looking at Kurt through darkened eyes.

"Hello, Kurt," he said, his voice formal even as his eyes danced with desire and longing. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise," Kurt said, ducking his head when he heard Quinn reentering the room. Gathering his belongings, he focused on sticking pins back into the pincushion, while trying not to be too obvious that he was watching Blaine intently out of the corner of his eye.

"Mr. Anderson, I wasn't expecting you," Quinn said, her hand fluttering up to tuck a stray curl into her loose chignon.

He leaned in to kiss Quinn on the cheek. "Ah, orange blossom," he said. "My favorite."

Quinn glanced at Kurt and the two shared a conspiratorial chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Blaine asked, looking bemused.

"Just a conversation Mr. Hummel and I were having earlier," Quinn said. "Silly wedding nonsense. Nothing you need to concern yourself with, darling." She patted Blaine on the arm, but directed a smirk at Kurt.

Blaine looked back and forth between the two of them and shook his head. "Darling, do you mind if I talk to Mr. Hummel alone for a moment? It's regarding a financial matter."

"Of course not," Quinn said. "I'll wait for you in the parlor."

They both watched Quinn go, smiling after her; the moment the door swung closed, Blaine was gripping Kurt tightly in a fervent embrace.

"You look positively delectable in blue," Blaine said, nuzzling against Kurt's jaw. "Have I told you that?"

"Keep your voice down," Kurt urged, even as he smiled flirtatiously at Blaine. "But yes, you have mentioned something. One might think I wore it on purpose." He walked his fingers up Blaine's shirtfront, tapping each button as he reached it. Blaine's chest began to rise and fall more noticeably under Kurt's hands.

"Well, one might suppose you know just how tempting you are," Blaine murmured.

"I'm tempted as well," Kurt said, purposefully inhaling the scent of Blaine's pomade. "If that helps."

"If only we were alone," Blaine said. "I would show you just how much you have tempted me, Mr. Hummel."

"You will have to come by my shop then," Kurt replied, tilting his head down to press his lips to Blaine's. "I'm sure you'll need a new suit for the wedding."

"I can come by next Monday," Blaine said. "Just after lunch?"

"How late can you stay? Should I make plans for dinner?"

"I'm not sure," Blaine said with a seductive pout, "but I don't think we'll have time to eat." His following smirk sent sparks of arousal through Kurt's body, and he fought to keep himself from acting on his impulses in the Fabrays' dining room.

"Stop that," he said, swatting at a hand that had somehow found its way to his waist. "Someone could walk in."

"Let them," Blaine whispered. He leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to Kurt's.

Kurt allowed himself to savor the sensation for a few moments, the warmth of Blaine's mouth, the scratch of his stubble, the flutter of his eyelashes as they pulled apart. Surging forward, Kurt embraced Blaine and tucked his head into the crook of his shoulder. "I love you," he said, practically breathing the words into Blaine's ear and letting his lips brush its outer edge.

Blaine squeezed Kurt tightly and said, "I love you too." When he pulled back, his eyes were shining brightly, as if he might cry. "I'll see you soon," he said, and then he headed for the parlor, leaving Kurt amidst the bolts of fabric and dozens of sketches.

Gathering up the last of his pins and stowing everything he could in his satchel, he followed Blaine into the parlor. He and Quinn were seated on a small settee, a full tea set laid out before them.

"Mr. Hummel, why don't you join us for tea," Quinn offered. "I didn't have much time, but there's plenty."

Kurt looked down at the table, laid out with several types of finger sandwiches and two types of cookies dusted in a thick coating of powdered sugar. If this was what she could do without "much time," Kurt knew their wedding would be an elaborate affair.

"I'm sorry, Miss Fabray, but I have an appointment back at my shop."

"Another time, perhaps?" she said.

"Indeed," Kurt replied, bowing to her. "Mr. Anderson," he added with a nod.

"I'll contact you about that suit," Blaine said, chancing a wink at him when Quinn turned her gaze in Kurt's direction.

"Of course," was all Kurt could manage to say. He saw himself out and headed back to his shop.

When Blaine arrived at Kurt's shop on Monday, he was barely through the door before Kurt was wrapped around him, kissing him fervently and clinging to him as if his life depended on it. Maybe in a way, it did.

On Blaine's second visit, Kurt actually started working on a suit for him, insisting that he couldn't get married in an "old" suit when Quinn would have a brand new dress for the occasion.

"Hold still," Kurt warned.

"I'm trying," Blaine said, "but this devastatingly handsome man has his hands all over me."

When Kurt looked up, Blaine winked at him. He returned his attentions to his work, but took extra care to allow his hands to linger against Blaine's thigh longer than possible, or to brush against his backside more times than absolutely necessary while he was pulling the fabric taut. And when he started working on the inseam, his let his hand trail upward until he could feel the weight of Blaine's hardening cock through the thick wool of the unfinished trousers. A soft moan escaped Blaine's lips.

"Kurt," he rasped.

"Sorry," Kurt said, feigning embarrassment. He glanced up at Blaine, taking care to look apologetic and wide-eyed. "My hand slipped."

"Many more slips like that, and I may be forced to have my way with you." Blaine's eyes fell closed as Kurt's fingertips brushed him again, and he dropped his head back with a gentle sigh.

"You're right," Kurt said, pulling his hand away. "I should really focus on this suit."

Blaine huffed out a ragged breath and straightened his back. They were playing a good-humored game of cat-and-mouse, testing each other's resolve, and Kurt was determined to emerge victorious. He curled his lips into a smirk, and ran his left hand up Blaine's calf, massaging the muscle as he worked the fabric into place.

Kurt had discovered that Blaine's calves were particularly sensitive on their trip to Atlanta. It had happened by accident, really. Kurt had offered to rub Blaine's back for him, and when faced with all that exposed skin, he couldn't help but explore — both with his hands and his mouth. When Kurt laved his tongue over the roundest part of his calf, Blaine practically convulsed beneath him, his back arching almost unnaturally as a sound sweeter than honey burst forth from his throat. It was imprinted on Kurt's brain like words on a page, and he never missed an opportunity to use that bit of information to his advantage.

A gasp from above let Kurt know he'd not underestimated his knowledge of Blaine's body. He looked up to find Blaine's eyes closed again and his lips parted in a familiar way.

"Do you want me to stop?" Kurt asked.

"I thought you said you wanted to finish the suit," Blaine said without opening his eyes, an audible tremor to his voice.

"Oh, silly me," Kurt replied with a smirk. He pulled his hand away and went back to marking the hem for the pants.

"I never said you had to stop."

Kurt looked up to find Blaine was now the one smirking. His own breath caught in his throat as Blaine reached down to caress his cheek. It felt so right to be back in Blaine's life, even though it might be fleeting. There was never any telling what the future would hold for them, but it seemed they had both decided it did not matter anymore. It had gone unspoken, their agreement, but nonetheless, it was clear to Kurt that Blaine's intent was to be with him as long as he could.

Kurt never brought up the unanswered letter, deciding Blaine's response had come in the form of his reappearance in Kurt's life. He didn't need words on a page when he had the man in flesh and blood before him.

"I love you," Kurt said suddenly.

"And I, you," Blaine replied, a bemused look in his eyes that questioned Kurt's need to say the words they'd spoken so many times before.

"I just wanted you to know," Kurt said with a shrug. "I have always loved you, and I always will."

"You'll give me a big head."

Kurt shrugged again. "I'm simply stating the truth."

"You beautiful man," Blaine said, "come up here and kiss me before I begin to cry."

Kurt rolled forward on his knees to get his feet under him, but before he could rise to standing, Blaine bent forward and grabbed him by the waist, forcibly pulling him upright and into a firm embrace.

Letting out a huff of air when he collided with Blaine's torso, Kurt couldn't help but laugh... until he saw Blaine's heated gaze, eyes black with desire.

"Mr. Anderson," he gasped. "I think you might want more from me than just a kiss."

"However did you guess?" Blaine teased, trailing his hand across the dip in Kurt's lower back before venturing lower and pulling Kurt's lower half flush with his own.

"At this rate, we'll never get this suit finished," Kurt protested, but only half-heartedly.

"I suppose that just means I'll have to visit your shop more often."

"Such rotten luck," Kurt said with a smile as he leaned in to kiss Blaine once more.

It became a pattern of sorts: Blaine would come to have his new suit fitted, and inevitably, they would end up in some state of undress, finding pleasure in each other's bodies. Not that Kurt minded. In fact, he didn't even mind the trips he made to the Fabrays for Quinn's fittings. They'd become almost friendly in the weeks he'd been working on her wedding gown. Kurt hated for it to come to an end — and not just because that meant he'd be seeing less of Blaine.

It was happening already, though. Blaine's visits had grown more infrequent leading up to the wedding. The Fabrays were keeping him on a tight leash, and yet Blaine somehow found time to visit.

For Quinn's final fitting, she had to come to Kurt's shop. The dress was so heavy, and Kurt was concerned with dragging it through the mud or getting it caught in a carriage wheel. Still Mrs. Fabray insisted on escorting her, and Blaine had also come along so Kurt could put the final touches on his suit. Or at least that's what he'd told Mrs. Fabray. It was mostly true.

Kurt had never felt so flustered in all of his life — all three of them in his tiny little shop, blocks from what could be considered the respectable part of town. He wanted to hide, but instead he cleaned up as well as he could and hung some new drapes at the windows to make the shop look less stark and had some fresh tea waiting when they arrived.

"Oh, your shop is darling," Quinn remarked, earning her a stern sideways glance from her mother.

"It's tiny and a little dark, but it's mine," Kurt said proudly.

"Well, I love it," Quinn said, holding out her hand to Kurt. When he had shook it, she added, "Mr. Hummel, you remember my mother?"

"Of course," he said, bowing to her. "Mrs. Fabray, lovely to see you again."

Mrs. Fabray smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. Kurt resolved to keep a genuine smile on his face no matter what happened, but when his eyes fell on Blaine, he did not need to force his smile at all. "Mr. Anderson," he greeted. "Your suit is almost finished."

"Spectacular," Blaine said, beaming at him and using his bright gold eyes in a way that should have been illegal. "I can't wait to see it."

"Well, you can't see my dress before the wedding," Quinn said. "It's bad luck."

"That's my cue," Blaine said, bowing in an exaggerated fashion, causing both Kurt and Quinn to giggle. "I'm to find something respectable to do until the ladies are finished here."

"Good luck with that in this part of town," Mrs. Fabray scoffed.

"Mother," Quinn chastised, looking nervously at Kurt. "He'll be fine."

Eager to diffuse the tension, Kurt took matters into his own hands. "Mrs. Fabray, why don't you help Quinn get into her dress," he said, pointing toward the changing area, "and I'll get everything set up out here. Blaine, you can come back in an hour. We should be done by then."

Quinn led Mrs. Fabray toward the back of the shop, and the two disappeared behind the thick curtain.

"You should have been a shepherd the way you corralled them so easily," Blaine muttered. He had leaned in so closely, Kurt could feel his breath tickling hotly at the back of his neck.

Kurt closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. "You should go."

A fleeting brush of Blaine's hand against his own was all that remained as Kurt heard the bell over the door ring out. His skin felt overly warm, and his breath came in short, maddening bursts. He had only just gotten himself composed when Quinn emerged from behind the curtain, resplendent in her wedding gown.

"Doesn't my Lucy look positively stunning?" Mrs. Fabray remarked as she followed her back into the shop.

"It's the dress," Quinn said, blushing.

"Nonsense," Kurt said. "The dress is lovely, but the bride... she makes the dress come alive." He turned her to face his large mirror and watched as she stepped up onto the platform and gasped at the sight of herself.

Tears in her eyes, Quinn whispered, "Kurt, I look like royalty."

"You are royalty, dear," her mother said, as if it were the most obvious thing.

Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes and stepped closer to Quinn. "See how I took in the shoulders so the sleeves don't overwhelm you? And I switched out the lace like we discussed."

"Kurt," Quinn began, placing her hand over his where he was adjusting a sleeve. "I love it. Thank you."

He looked up at her, finding genuine affection in her green eyes. "The pleasure was all mine," he said. He was surprised to discover he actually meant it.

Working in silence as the Fabray women prattled on about flowers and buffets and guest lists, Kurt focused on making some final adjustments to the hem. Before long, he was standing up and brushing the dust from his knees.

"Voila!" he exclaimed in his best approximation of a French accent. "It is finished. You can get married tomorrow."

He stepped back to admire his work, and watched as both Quinn and her mother broke into wide smiles.

"You have a talent, Mr. Hummel. I'll give you that," Mrs. Fabray said.

"Come help me get changed, Mother. I'm sure Mr. Hummel has other clients to see."

"No hurry, ladies," Kurt said, waving her off with a dismissive hand. "It's just Blaine this afternoon."

Quinn glanced at the clock over the fireplace. "Oh, goodness, he'll be here any moment. Mother, I have to get changed. He can't see me like this."

Her mild distress was charming, and Kurt chuckled to himself. "I won't let him in until you've changed. Don't worry."

Giving him a grateful smile, Quinn disappeared behind the curtain once more. After a few moments, Mrs. Fabray reemerged, sans Quinn.

"My daughter would like to speak to you," Mrs. Fabray said, unable to conceal her sneer. "I'll wait outside in the carriage."

Kurt gave her an apologetic smile and ducked behind the curtain, hoping Quinn was decent. "Miss Fabray?" he called, using his hand to cover his eyes.

"I'm fully dressed," she laughed.

Lowering his hand, Kurt found that she was indeed clothed in the periwinkle gown she had worn when she entered the shop.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, holding back the curtain so she could step out into the shop.

"I was hoping you could give me some advice... on a gift for Blaine," she said, ducking her head in embarrassment.

Kurt's eyes widened in shock. "Are you sure you'd want me to help you pick something so... personal?"

"I feel like you know him so well, and you have such exquisite taste."

"Well, my taste was never in question," he said, lifting his nose in the air in false arrogance.

Quinn giggled. "I'm just at a loss for ideas, and I know it's not customary, but I just want to do something nice for him. He's been so thoughtful through this whole wedding nonsense."

"That sounds like Blaine," Kurt said fondly. He thought for a moment. "What about cufflinks? You could get them monogrammed."

"You don't think that's too... impersonal?" she asked.

"An umbrella would be impersonal. Cufflinks are like hatpins: they tell you something about the person."

"What does my hatpin say about me?" Quinn asked, twirling around with a giggle.

"That you're a woman who would buy her fiancé cufflinks," Kurt teased.

"You're incorrigible," she said. Rocking forward on her toes, she let out a relieved-sounding exhale. "Cufflinks it is, then." She held out a hand to Kurt. "Thanks again... for everything."

Leaning forward to take her hand, he pressed a light kiss over her gloved knuckles. "Oh, I almost forgot," he said, standing up and reaching behind the counter. "I added the orange blossoms to your headpiece, which of course, will be held in place by Mrs. Anderson's combs." He passed it over to her.

"Oh, it's lovely," Quinn said, turning the floral crown over in her hands.

As her fingers danced over the orange blossoms, Kurt thought of Blaine, and his mind wandered off into memories of time spent amid the boughs of the orange trees, the faint scent of the ocean mixing with the sweet scent of the blossoms in the crisp night air. What he wouldn't give to recapture those simple days, precious moments stolen from the cruel mistress of fate and repaid tenfold in their two months apart. He only hoped their debt had been forgiven.

And then suddenly, Blaine was there. Through the open window, he could see him standing outside, talking to Mrs. Fabray. Kurt watched him in profile, stunning and classically handsome. He would never get tired of watching him like this, when he was unaware anyone else could see him.

"I have this same book," Quinn said suddenly, holding it up and smiling before followed Kurt's gaze out the window. "Well, had... I let Blaine borrow it and he—"

Kurt looked back at her when she trailed off and found Quinn staring open-mouthed at the book of poetry he'd left lying on the counter. She looked back up at him wide-eyed. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Quinn quickly composed herself and smiled at him. "Oh, n-nothing," she said. "I was just remembering something I needed to do before the wedding tomorrow."

"A bride's work is never done," Kurt commented, reasoning that her abrupt change in demeanor must have been a sudden onset of nerves. "Nor is a tailor's, apparently. Would you send Blaine in?"

"Of course," Quinn replied, her mouth set in tight smile as she set the book on the counter.

Kurt wished he could help ease her tension, but it would be over soon enough. Once the wedding had passed, she'd be able to relax with her new husband. The thought made his heart ache anew, even as he hoped Quinn was happy.

He watched as Quinn exited the shop and greeted Blaine. Kurt set about putting away Quinn's dress and cleaning up the tea service that had gone untouched. He had just realized he'd left Quinn's headpiece on the counter when Blaine walked through the door, the shop's bell ringing out brightly behind him. Grabbing the nearest box, Kurt shoved the headpiece inside and closed the lid, hoping Blaine hadn't seen.

"Blaine!"

"Well, now that's a greeting," Blaine said, his eyes round and bright. Kurt's heart melted as he gazed into their warmth.

Clearing his throat loudly, Kurt said, "Let me go get your suit, and we can see how it fits." His words came out high-pitched and breathy; it was as businesslike as he could manage under the circumstances.

He didn't realize Blaine had followed him until he felt two arms snake around his middle and pull him close. Kurt nearly lost his footing, but Blaine caught him, nuzzling into his neck and humming contentedly.

"You smell wonderful," Blaine said. "Good enough to eat."

Kurt let himself get pulled down into the cascading tide of Blaine, almost drowning in desire and forgetting for a few precious seconds that they could be found out at any moment.

"We can't do this," Kurt panted, forcing himself to pull away from Blaine. "Quinn's dress is finished, and you're getting married tomorrow. Not to mention both your fiancée and her mother are right outside."

"No, they're not," Blaine said. "I sent them on without me. Told them I'd walk home... So you see, we're all alone." His grin was lascivious and totally intoxicating. "Let's go upstairs."

"We really need to finish your suit," Kurt said, his words muffled by a kiss.

"After," Blaine insisted, the tip of his nose still brushing Kurt's. "I really need to touch you right now."

Unable to defend himself against such words, Kurt conceded, allowing Blaine to pull him along, up the narrow staircase and into his apartment.

By the time the backs of Kurt's knees hit the bed, they were both bare from the waist up, shirts and jackets marking their trail from the front door.

"How did I ever manage more than two months without this?" Kurt said, gasping as Blaine's mouth found his neck.

"Chandler wasn't an adequate lover?"

Kurt froze at his words, shoving at Blaine's shoulders and sitting up on the bed. Blaine looked at him with wide eyes. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Chandler?!" Kurt shrieked. "You really think that he and I... were lovers?"

"Weren't you?"

"No," Kurt spat. "We weren't."

"I just thought..."

"Is that why you never responded to my letter?"

"What letter?"

"Nevermind," Kurt said, attempting to distract Blaine by pulling him down on top of him again. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Blaine's shoulder.

"Kurt, stop," Blaine said as he pulled back from Kurt and hovered over him on his hands and knees. "What letter?"

"It's nothing," Kurt insisted. "Just forget it." He ducked his head and began picking at his cuticles.

Blaine placed a finger under his chin and gently nudged it up. His eyes were wide and earnest. "I never got a letter from you, Kurt. I swear it. If I had, I would have found a way to get word to you."

Kurt's eyes were stinging; he had been carrying that small worry in the back of his mind for so long that he had begun to believe that maybe Blaine did not love him in the same way that Kurt loved him. He hadn't even realized how much he had doubted it until the insecurity was taken away.

"Don't cry," Blaine said, wiping a tear from Kurt's cheek. "I'm here now, and I love you. Please, let's just enjoy it while we can."

Nodding as he dried his eyes, Kurt smiled up at Blaine, hoping to reassure him and recapture the heated passion that had led them upstairs. "Where were we?" Kurt asked, reaching for the closure of Blaine's trousers.

"I think that's right about where we left off," Blaine replied, kissing the tip of Kurt's nose almost reverently. The sweetness of the gesture aroused Kurt in an unexpected way. He suddenly found himself practically ripping at Blaine's pants in attempt to undress him as rapidly as possible.

"Careful," Blaine admonished. "You'll tear the fabric."

Kurt chose not to heed Blaine's warning. Instead, he kissed a line across Blaine's neck, stopping just under his chin, all the while continuing to tug at his trousers. "I can fix it," Kurt insisted. "You forget that I'm not only your lover; I'm also your tailor."

"Damn the tailoring," Blaine said. "Just get undressed."

Elbows and knees knocking together uncomfortably on Kurt's narrow bed, they somehow managed to disrobe entirely. Kurt sat back against his pillows and began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Blaine asked, looking as if he'd taken offense.

"Not two minutes ago we were arguing, and now look at us."

"We are quite the pair," Blaine admitted as he lowered himself over Kurt's body.

"I like that word," Kurt said, threading his fingers through Blaine's where his hand rested on his chest. "Pair. Like we're a matched set."

"We are."

"Until tomorrow," Kurt reasoned.

"No," Blaine said, lifting his head and shaking it so firmly that he nearly struck Kurt's chin with his forehead. "My marrying Quinn has no bearing on us."

"Maybe not for you, but to the rest of the world... Mr. and Mrs. Anderson: a matched set."

"Damn the rest of the world," Blaine said. His voice was low and rough as he held Kurt's gaze, making him forget the melancholy knot in the pit of his stomach for the moment. And a few slow, languid kisses returned the fervent heat to his body, with the need to feel and be felt coursing through him like wildfire.

The lines of Blaine's back grew taut, the muscles rippling beneath Kurt's palms as the warmth of Blaine's bare skin spurred him onward.

"Roll over onto your stomach," he commanded.

Blaine's eyes were dark, a deep pool of ink surrounded by the faintest touch of amber. "What are you going to do?" he asked, his voice a breathy tremor.

"You'll see," Kurt said, imparting a teasing quality to his tone. "Now, roll over."

Blaine turned over so quickly he nearly fell of the bed. Biting back a laugh, Kurt lowered his hands to Blaine's back, just beneath his shoulder blades and kneaded the tense muscles there. Blaine moaned softly into the pillow beneath his head.

"That feels heavenly," he muttered.

"I have hardly begun," Kurt said.

"That matters little," Blaine said. "I love the way your hands feel on me. It's like we were made to fit together like this."

Unable to respond to such words, Kurt pressed his lips to Blaine's spine. In his mind it was a promise: to support him and cherish him for as long as he could. But he could not make the words form on his tongue. Instead he found other ways to communicate that did not need words: kisses, caresses... love.

Crawling backward on his hands and knees, Kurt hovered over Blaine's legs, watching the swell of his backside rise and fall with his breath and the intermittent fits and starts when Kurt began to lave his tongue over Blaine's calves. Blaine began writhing beneath him, but allowed Kurt to continue, moaning and sighing at each new sensation. When Kurt bit down lightly on the now-damp skin, Blaine's torso lifted off the bed as he twisted to meet Kurt's eyes.

Unable to resist Blaine, with his parted lips and flushed cheeks, Kurt pushed himself up to kiss his lover, only to be summarily pulled down on top of him with a muffled "oof."

Blaine rolled them over, keeping his arms firmly about Kurt's back. "That's quite enough of that," he said, nudging Kurt's nose up so he could press their lips together.

"I thought you were enjoying it," Kurt said.

"I was... a little too much." Blaine emphasized his meaning by pressing his lower half into Kurt's, his hardened cock, digging into Kurt's hip.

"Or maybe just enough," Kurt said, thrusting his own hips forward and gasping when he made contact with Blaine.

Words ceased to exist as they moved together. Everything Kurt knew became focused on the pair of them, writhing and moaning amid his tangled sheets.

When Kurt had begun frequenting Columbia Hall, he had wondered if lying with another man would be the same as loving Blaine. He had quickly found it was altogether different, and nowhere near as satisfying. And yet he endured under the presumption that he might never have anything so precious again, and resolved to be content with what he could have.

But nothing could compare to this: falling into the depths of Blaine's amber eyes followed by whispers of I love you against flushed skin, and the precious seconds before it was all over when every ounce of pleasure on earth seemed to be wrapped up in Blaine's tightly closed eyes as he spilled hotly across Kurt's chest. It sent Kurt over the edge after him, tumbling down and down until he was lying in a heap, gasping for breath.

"I really should finish your suit," Kurt said.

"At least let me catch my breath first," Blaine replied, kissing the cleft in Kurt's chin.

The weight of him felt heavy across Kurt's body, but he was grateful for the tangle of limbs and the heat of Blaine's breath grazing his chest. It kept him grounded, prevented him from flying off into the stratosphere on the wings of his own elation.

When they'd finally forced themselves back downstairs to finish the suit, and Kurt presented Blaine with his own wedding gift: a silk vest in the same fabric as Quinn's dress but with different embroidery. It looked a bit like a vest of Kurt's that Blaine had admired when they were in St. Augustine, but made of much finer fabric. Kurt felt Blaine deserved that.

"This isn't necessary," Blaine said when he opened the box. He looked at Kurt with warmth in his eyes, his voice low and intimate. "The suit is enough."

Kurt scoffed. "It's tradition, Blaine. A new silk vest for the groom."

Blaine ran his hands over the embroidery in the pale silk. "I love it," he said. "And I love you."

"Blaine," Kurt chided, swatting at Blaine's chest with his hand before growing more serious and holding Blaine's gaze. "It was the only way I could be with you on your wedding day."

"Darling, you know I'd rather be marrying you," Blaine said, reaching forward to pull Kurt into his arms.

Kurt tried to come up with something to say in response, but instead he allowed himself to settle into the solid comfort of Blaine's embrace.

"The orange blossoms... your idea?" Blaine asked, tilting Kurt's head up to meet him in a kiss.

"Yes," Kurt gasped, unsure if he was answering Blaine's question or trying to encourage his movements. Catching himself, he added, "You weren't supposed to see that."

"I won't tell if you won't."

Blaine's lips trailed down Kurt's jaw, grazing his earlobe and finding a spot on his neck that made him positively weak in the knees.

"How can you not be sated after what we just did?" Kurt asked, even as he felt himself growing aroused again.

"You make me insatiable," Blaine replied. "Let me take off this suit, and we can try to exhaust each other this time."

"I really need to finish your suit. The wedding's tomorrow."

"So you keep reminding me," Blaine huffed.

"I only speak the truth."

"Right now the only truth I know is how you feel beneath my fingertips," Blaine said, running his hands over Kurt's chest and shoulders. "And how the moonlight through your bedroom window makes your fair skin glow like a freshly shined pearl." He trailed a hand down Kurt's back as his gaze fell to Kurt's mouth. "The way your lips taste when you call out my name in ecstasy."

Kurt moaned as Blaine's lips closed over his, the soft brush of Blaine's tongue shooting arousal through him like lightning. His hands moved of their own accord, grabbing and pulling at Blaine's suit, heedless of the pins as they fell to the floor, ruining the work he had just done.

"Upstairs?" Blaine inquired, breathless in his own arousal.

Kurt nodded sharply and was opening his mouth to speak when suddenly the bell rang out in the shop. Kurt froze, and Blaine's eyes went wide with terror.

A female voice called out, "Hello? Mr. Hummel?"

"Quinn's mother," Blaine whispered, the color drained from his face.

"Just a minute," Kurt called, working quickly to adjust his trousers and straighten his tie. He only hoped his hair hadn't become too mussed. "You wait here," he hissed at Blaine, "and for God's sake, don't make a sound."

Kurt emerged from behind the curtain still running his hand through his hair. "Mrs. Fabray, did you forget something?"

"Quinn's parasol," she said, holding it up. "Found it propped against the counter. I swear that girl would forget her head if it wasn't attached. Thank goodness she becomes someone else's problem tomorrow."

"I'm sure Mr. Anderson wouldn't see it that way," Kurt said, offended on Quinn's behalf. He raised his chin and looked down his nose at her. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"That's all," Mrs. Fabray said. "Make sure the dress is delivered on time tomorrow." She turned heel and exited the shop. Kurt waited until he saw the carriage drive off to return to Blaine's side.

"My heart is positively racing," Blaine said breathlessly.

"What if she'd caught us?"

"She didn't," Blaine said simply.

"But what if she did?" Kurt insisted. "We can't risk it."

Blaine's smile fell from his face. "Please don't do this again."

"I'm not," Kurt said, cupping Blaine's jaw in his palm. "We'll talk when you get back from Europe."

"I don't want to leave you," Blaine said, leaning into Kurt's touch. "You sure you can't come with us?"

"I think your new bride might take issue with that." Kurt tried to laugh at his own joke, but the sound came out more like a choked-off sob.

"We're going to make this work," Blaine said. "We will."

Kurt nodded even though he had his doubts. He didn't want them to part on bad terms. He leaned in to kiss Blaine one last time. "I'll see you when you get back from your honeymoon."