CHAPTER 18

“I have to talk to you. Alone,” Kurt whispered urgently the second Blaine and Nick moved to the kitchen to get the cheesecake out of the fridge.

They’d been at Jeff’s house for two hours now, but the two slave boys had been within earshot the whole time, and Kurt thought he would burst if he didn’t find a way to tell Jeff about the recent developments. The last few days had been awful, with Blaine so subdued and distant at all times, and Kurt couldn’t stand another day like this. He had no idea what to do.

Jeff arched his eyebrow at him and got up without a word. Kurt watched him walk over to the open plan kitchen and wind his arms around Nick’s middle. Here, in private, they didn’t act like an owner and a slave in the slightest.

“Hey, let’s hold the dessert for the moment,” Jeff said, brushing a quick kiss to Nick’s cheek. Kurt ached at the display of intimacy. He dared to glance at Blaine, who stood to the side with his eyes set down. 

Nick nuzzled his face against Jeff’s with a smile. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you take Blaine to your room? You wanted to show him that video on your computer, remember?”

If Nick saw through the pretext, he didn’t show it. “Oh, right. Thanks for reminding me,” he said. He stepped out of Jeff’s embrace and tugged at Blaine’s sleeve. “Come on, you’re gonna love it! And I can lend you the album I told you about.”

He started towards the stairs, but Blaine lagged behind, turning to Kurt with a perfectly schooled expression.

“May I—” Blaine started, and Kurt nodded before he even finished.

“Of course, go on. You’re here to spend time with Nick after all.”

“Thank you, Kurt.”

There it was again, his name used as the synonym of Master. Kurt ground his teeth.

He turned to Jeff as soon as he heard the door close upstairs. “I messed up.”

Jeff pulled his knees up on the cream-colored leather couch and turned to face him. “Yeah, I wondered what’s wrong. What happened?”

The story spilled out of Kurt, from the shock of finding Blaine almost naked in his bedroom to the way Blaine acted around him now, not so much afraid like he was at the beginning, but wary and unsure.

Jeff patted him on the shoulder. “What exactly did you tell him?”

“That I don’t want him to do this? Or that he doesn’t need to do this? I’m not even sure, I was in shock.” He heard Jeff hiss and looked up to see him wincing. “What?”

“Oh you messed up, indeed.”

“I know that much! I just don’t know how to fix it. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Just… use him, like his previous owners had? Because that’s not even an option.”

“Of course it isn’t. But I bet he believes that you don’t want him at all, now.”

“What? Of course I do. I told him I do, time and again, I thought he believed me by now. But I don’t want him for sex.”

“Yeah, but remember who he was before. I don’t know much about Blaine’s history, but Nick had spent over three years being told that sex was the only thing he was good for. He knows better now, but it took a lot of time and it still comes up sometimes. I bet it’s just like that for Blaine, too: If you don’t want him sexually, that means he’s useless to you. He’s probably just waiting for you to tell him you’re selling him or giving him away.”

“Oh god.”

“And can you imagine how much courage it took for him to offer something like that? He’s a slave. They’re not supposed to ask for anything, or initiate anything they haven’t been ordered to do. Most owners would punish a slave for stepping out of line. He put a lot of trust in you.”

Kurt whined. “Thanks, now I feel a thousand times worse than I did before.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeff said. “But you had to know. How else could you fix it?”

“How do I fix it?”

“You have to talk to him, of course. Honestly. Not as an owner to his slave — just you talking to the boy you like. Tell him what you feel.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Sure you can, you’re doing great — see, you’re not even denying liking him anymore.”

“It’s hard to deny the obvious, but confessing… that’s another thing entirely. I don’t want to spook him, or make him think he owes me anything if he doesn’t like me back.”

“Of course he likes you back. He looks at you as if you hung the moon. It will be alright. You just have to start communicating properly.”

Kurt let out a heavy sigh and hugged a decorative pillow to his chest.

“Argh. Is it always this hard? Was it like that with you and Nick? Was he so hurt too? How did you two even start, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind, but…” Jeff looked at him for a moment, as if considering something. Then he seemed to come to a decision. “Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

“I… think so?” Kurt hesitated. “Unless it’s something dangerous? Or illegal?”

“What if it’s illegal but not wrong?”

“Hmm. Can I tell my parents?” Kurt was not promising anything that needed to be hidden from them. He hated lying to his dad.

Jeff tilted his head. “Would they ever hurt a slave?”

“Definitely not,” Kurt answered immediately.

“Okay, I trust you. See, I didn’t buy Nick. I found him.”

“What do you mean, you found him?” Kurt had never heard about anyone just finding a slave. All slaves had owners, be it individuals, businesses, or merchants; that was the foundation of the whole system. Unless…

“He’s a runaway.” Jeff confirmed his suspicions. “Well, not anymore, his papers say he’s mine now, at least if you don’t look into it too closely. But he ran away from his last owner.”

“Was it the one where the boys met?” Kurt asked.

“No, from what I heard, that Sebastian guy was actually half-decent to them. It was Nick’s next owner that was a monster. He kept him in a basement for most of the year Nick was there. Alone in the dark for days, often without food or water.” Jeff said gravely and Kurt winced. “Nick was sure he would die there, so when he had a chance, he ran. He was half-mad with hunger and fear when I found him near my house. He begged me to just kill him, anything but return him to his owner. I couldn’t send him back to that place.”

Jeff had a pleading look on his face, as if begging Kurt to understand. Which, of course he did. He’d seen the way Nick was with Jeff, not a care in the world, a picture of a happy teenager. If not for the brand on his neck, Kurt would never have guessed he was a slave. There was no doubt that the change of owner did him nothing but good. Still, a slave running away was no small matter. If caught, they were returned to the owner who decided if they were to be put down on the spot or if he wanted to deal with them himself. Harboring a runaway could mean trouble, too. Kurt looked at Jeff, concerned.

“And your parents let you keep him?”

Jeff nodded. “My mom. My dad had died a few months before that.”

“Oh no. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

A shadow ran through Jeff’s features. “Thanks. It was a rough time. But when my mom heard Nick’s story and saw how badly I wanted to help him, she agreed to let him stay. I think she believed it would help me, too, having something other than grief to focus on. And it did. We helped each other. And love just came with time.”

“Weren’t you afraid, at first?”

“Of course I was. Just like you are now. But I knew that we cared for each other, and that I would never do anything to hurt him. With communication and baby steps, we figured it out. You will, too.”

Kurt wished he had as much confidence in himself as Jeff seemed to have in him. “Do you and Nick…” he started, but then backtracked. “No, I’m sorry, that’s your private business.”

Jeff arched an eyebrow at him. “What, do we have sex?” Kurt nodded, his ears hot. “We’re a couple of teenage boys in a relationship for over a year now, what do you think?” Jeff winked. “And believe me, we’re both enjoying it. Like I said, time and communication works wonders.”

*

Over the next few days, Kurt wondered whether Blaine had been having a similar kind of conversation with Nick in the half hour that the two of them had spent upstairs that day, because all of a sudden, everything was back to normal. Blaine was smiling at him again, sweet and trusting, and no longer alternately hiding in his room or trying to anticipate Kurt’s every wish, flitting around him with nervous energy. It would be easy to settle back into this comfortable dynamic and avoid the risk of messing the careful balance between them, but Jeff was right: it wasn’t fair to Blaine to leave things unsaid. Kurt owed it to him to explain, if only so that Blaine understood what happened last week. Communication, right?

It had to be done, and soon, before Kurt lost the little bit of courage his conversation with Jeff gave him, but wow, was it hard to start. Even the thought of confessing his feelings made Kurt’s hands sweaty and his breathing pick up.

It was Thursday again, exactly a week after the little scene in Kurt’s room, when he decided it was now or never. They would have the house to themselves for at least two hours after he came home, and while he had nothing planned that would require the privacy of an empty house, he really didn’t want anyone to overhear or interrupt him during this particular conversation.

Driving home after Glee, Kurt had a sudden urge to stop by the florist and buy a bouquet of flowers for Blaine, like he would for a date. But this wasn’t a date, and buying flowers for a slave was one of those things that even the most open-minded people like his parents would find unusual. So Kurt filed the idea away with other things he wanted to be able to do one day, and drove straight home.

Blaine greeted him by the door with a smile on his clean-shaven face. He had taken to styling his hair the way Kurt liked lately, and his new clothes, neat and pressed, fit him perfectly, showing how much he’d improved since November. He looked so beautiful in the warm light of the hallway lamp that Kurt’s breath hitched.

Yes. He was as ready as he would ever be.

“Hello, Kurt,” Blaine said, reaching to take his coat. “Would you like some tea? It must be cold outside.”

“No, thank you. Not today. But I’d like to talk to you if you don’t mind.” It came out breathless and Kurt took a few steadying breaths while taking off his boots. When he looked up again, Blaine’s eyes were wide and scared, his smile gone, and Kurt hurried to add, “It’s nothing bad, I promise!”

It didn’t seem to soothe Blaine’s nerves, but he schooled his face into a pleasant expression. “Of course. Where should we talk?”

“Um, my room?” That was how Kurt had planned it, aiming for the familiar, private setting, but now he was having doubts already. Would it send the wrong message? Was it too suggestive? He swallowed and shook off the nerves before he could talk himself out of this altogether.

Kurt walked towards the stairs with Blaine following silently two steps behind. When they entered his room, he sat down in his desk chair. Blaine stopped awkwardly by the foot of the bed.

Kurt took a shaky breath. “Sit down, please.”

Blaine perched on the edge of the bed, facing Kurt, his expression clouded with worry. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked quietly.

“No. Of course not, I just wanted to talk about… um. Last week, when you were here.” It had gone so much smoother in his head when he practiced it.

Blaine’s eyebrows shot up, understanding dawning. “Oh! Do you want me to—?” He was already reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

Kurt hurried to stop him. “No! No, thank you.” He didn’t miss the hurt flashing over Blaine’s face this time. God, he was messing up again. With a steadying breath, he started. “Blaine, I’m so sorry I made you feel bad last week. Do you know why I asked you to leave the room and get dressed?”

Blaine nodded slowly. “Because I’m not attractive to you and you don’t want me to service you.”

Kurt’s heart squeezed painfully. “No, I don’t want you to service me, but that’s not because I don’t find you attractive. Because I do. You’re beautiful, Blaine.” Blaine’s breath caught in his throat in a tiny gasp. “But I didn’t take you home to be a sex slave, remember? It’s not your duty to service anyone here. You don’t have to do this ever again.” He paused for breath and added, “And besides…”

“Kurt?” Blaine asked after a moment, when silence prolonged uncomfortably. He seemed to be hanging on Kurt’s every word.

“I… I’ve never been with anyone like that, Blaine,” Kurt said, blushing to the roots of his hair. “I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

He saw realization dawn on Blaine’s face, part surprise, part excitement. “Oh! I could teach you!” he blurted out.

“No,” Kurt said firmly. “I don’t want this – not like that.”

Blaine’s face fell, and Kurt got up and sat next to him on the bed instead, keeping enough distance to avoid crowding him.

“Blaine,” he said, making sure to hold eye contact, his heart pounding in his chest, “When I look at you, I don’t see a slave that I could use for pleasure. I see a beautiful, kind, intelligent boy. A boy I would like to get to know better. Go out with. Hold his hand.” Kurt broke off, mortified by his own boldness.

Blaine stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, incredulous. “Oh,” he breathed, and slowly, slowly, slid his hand over the bedspread until it was halfway between them, open palm up.

*

Blaine’s hand was dry and cold under Kurt’s hot, sweaty one, and Kurt had a momentary urge to wipe his palm on his pants and apologize, but Blaine didn’t seem to mind. He was looking at Kurt as if he didn’t quite believe this was real. Frankly, Kurt felt like he should pinch himself to make sure, too.

Then Blaine’s fingers curled around his and that was it, they were holding hands – for the very first time, Kurt was handing hands with a boy he liked, and it was everything he dreamed of and more, because it was Blaine, and he never expected this to feel like so much.

Still, Kurt had to make sure they were on the same page. He squeezed Blaine’s palm lightly.

“It’s just… Blaine, I don’t want you to think that you have to do this, or that you owe me anything just because I like you.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shot up. “You like me?”

“Of course I like you. Isn’t that what I just said? But that doesn’t have to change anything. I don’t want you to feel obliged if you don’t feel the same way, or–”

“I do.”

“Really?” Kurt grinned so wide he felt the strain in his cheeks.

“I care about you very much,” Blaine said, lowering his eyes shyly. “And not just as a wonderful master. I… I like you too, Kurt.” He looked a little dazed with it. “And it’s… different. I’ve never felt like this before.” He chanced a glance at Kurt from beneath his long eyelashes. “I talked with Nick and he said that it’s okay, that slaves can feel it too, the l–… um, affection. That it’s a good thing, but it’s not okay to force it on you. I’m sorry if I tried to force it on you last week, Kurt.”

“Oh, no, honey. It’s okay, you did nothing wrong. But let’s not go there again, okay? You really don’t have to do that anymore. And I’m nowhere near ready to see you naked,” Kurt blushed and lowered his eyes to their joined hands. “Like I said, I haven’t even kissed anyone yet.”

“Me neither.”

Kurt’s head snapped back up, his eyes widening incredulously. Blaine faltered.

“Um… Not like in the movies, at least? On the lips? I mean, I did other things with my mouth, but…” he broke off, looking slightly panicked by Kurt’s silence.

Kurt’s free hand moved of its own volition, cupping Blaine’s cheek and stroking his thumb feather-light across Blaine’s cheekbone. “No one ever kissed you?” he asked softly.

Blaine shook his head minutely, his eyes never leaving Kurt’s. “It’s not something people do with pleasure slaves, Kurt.” His breathing was picking up and Kurt squashed the urge to lean in and kiss those perfect pink lips right then and there. The last thing he wanted was to push Blaine into anything sooner than he was ready. Especially when he had no idea what Blaine was actually ready for – or himself, if he was being honest.

Instead, Kurt stroked Blaine’s cheek once more before withdrawing his hand and scooting back on the bed until he was sitting cross-legged in the middle. He tugged at Blaine’s hand to follow suit. Once they were face to face, Kurt asked, “Would you tell me more about yourself? I’d like to get to know you better.”

Blaine shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I grew up in a servant house of a big mansion, among other slaves. I never knew my mother, she died in childbirth.” Kurt squeezed his hand and Blaine squeezed back with a sad little smile. “I had an older brother who took good care of me while our father worked, but he was sold into hard labor when I was six.” A flash of pain ran through Blaine’s features and Kurt chose not to ask. The past tense Blaine used and the fact that typically only the toughest slaves survived more than five, let alone ten years in hard labor, told him all he needed to know. A teenager must have had no chance.

Blaine picked up his story after a beat of silence. “After that, I was mostly on my own, but the owners were good to us and the other slaves made sure I was fed and clothed. I started helping in the kitchen when I was ten, and I thought I would be kept there as a household slave. The owners liked me, and they enjoyed it when I sang.” Blaine smiled at a sweet memory. “I used to dream I could become an entertainment slave, spend my life singing and dancing. But that didn’t happen, of course. When I was twelve, my first master saw me when I served food at a party, and asked to buy me as company for his son.”

“Reggie Salazar,” Kurt said, his eyes pulled to the brand on the side of Blaine’s neck.

“Yes.”

“Was Rick nice to you?” Kurt asked, although he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer. But Rick was only thirteen then, basically a kid, what could he–

“He was an angry boy,” Blaine said quietly, as if unwilling to say anything bad about any of his past owners. Kurt’s heart clenched in sympathy. He’d seen how Rick “the Stick” relieved anger. Mostly on those smaller and weaker than him. Blaine shrugged. “He didn’t like me very much. But my master kept me for two years because he liked me to service him in the evenings.”

Kurt felt sick. “You were a child.”

“Most pleasure slaves start early, Kurt. People like that.” Blaine said it so matter-of-factly, as if he had just stated people liked to watch TV after dinner.

“It’s sick.”

“It’s just the way it is.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be this way, it’s not right,” Kurt spat out, helpless anger burning bright.

Blaine just smiled sadly and squeezed his hand.

They ended up moving to the living room to watch a movie because talking about Blaine’s past anymore felt like too much to handle. And there was no need to, anyway. It hadn’t gotten any better from there, Kurt knew. There was no need to make Blaine relive any of that; to make himself listen to the gruesome details. Better to focus on here and now, where Blaine was safe and happy, and cuddled to Kurt’s side on the couch.

*

The first time Kurt asked him to sing, Blaine looked startled and it took a while and a lot of adorably shy glances before he did, a short, sweet child’s tune Blaine said he remembered his brother sang to him. His voice was clear and beautiful and Kurt told him just that, the compliment making Blaine blush.

And then it was like the music, once remembered, never left Blaine again. More and more often over the next couple of weeks, Kurt could hear him hum or sing something as he showered or helped with household chores – bits of songs he liked, songs he listened to often on his little CD player, even songs he heard once on TV or while out shopping with Kurt. He had a great tune memory and a voice that fit a surprisingly wide repertoire, from show tunes to old classics to top forties music.

And with finding his voice again, it felt like Blaine found a piece of himself that wasn’t about being a slave, like almost everything else in his life was. He seemed happier, more relaxed – freer. Of course, some of it may have to do with this new connection between him and Kurt, the precious, secret knowledge that there was more between them, even though they acted like they had before most of the time, and never did more than talk and hold hands and cuddle on the couch in the rare moments when they were home alone. Kurt liked to think that he had some part in brightening Blaine’s life. But he knew that music had a lot to do with it, too.

And the more Kurt saw Blaine – really saw him, not a slave, just him – the more he loved everything about him. With every giddy smile, every song, every playful discussion while watching TV together, Kurt was falling deeper, and with the middle of February approaching, an idea started to form in his head.

*

Everyone else was asleep or at least in their rooms, but there was still light visible in Blaine’s bedroom. Kurt knocked and opened the door when he heard a quiet “Come in”. Blaine was sitting on his bed in pajamas, back against the headboard and a book in his duvet-covered lap. Kurt smiled at the picture.

“Hey,” he said, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him just in case. “I wanted to ask. It’s Valentine’s Day on Friday. Could I take you out? On a date?”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “A date?”

Kurt hesitated. “Yes? You do know what a date is, right?”

“I do, but… me? A real date with you? I’m a slave, Kurt, we can’t–”

Kurt nodded. “I know, but we could still do something fun together? And we would know it’s a date even if nobody else does.” He paused and bit his lip. “I just want to spend the day with you.”

Blaine smiled at him, bright like a rising sun. “I’d love that.”

*

Kurt was just checking his reflection in the full length mirror for the last time, making sure everything was perfect for his first date, when Blaine knocked on his open door. He looked stunning as he crossed the room in his simple, well-fitted outfit, his curls neatly styled and his smile lighting up his whole face.

“Could you…?”

Kurt arched his eyebrow, seeing the red bowtie collar in Blaine’s extended hand. The last few times they went out anywhere in public, Blaine had put it on by himself as he got dressed. Half the time Kurt didn’t even remember it was anything more than a fashion accessory.

Blaine smiled shyly at his confused expression. “If you may. I like it when you put it on me. I like to feel that I’m yours.”

“Okay,” Kurt breathed, the yours doing strange and wonderful things to his heart now that they were no longer just owner and slave. “Come here.”

He stepped behind Blaine’s back in front of the mirror and gently placed the bowtie around Blaine’s neck, snapping it closed at the back. He made sure it was nice and snug, tucked neatly under the collar of Blaine’s black shirt. Blaine never looked away from Kurt’s hands in the mirror, watching with fascinated focus.

Kurt’s fingers brushed the warm skin of Blaine’s neck as he straightened the collar, and Blaine shivered, a soft little inhale escaping his lips and making Kurt want to do it again, with his fingers, and then his lips. He withdrew his hands quickly, startled with the impulse.

“There, you’re all done. And you look gorgeous.” He said cheerfully. “Here, let me find you something.” He opened a drawer and came up with a lightweight cotton scarf that he wound loosely around Blaine’s neck. It covered the bowtie, which was a pity, but it served its purpose. “Just so your brand is covered when we’re inside,” he explained. “This way we’re just two boys out for the night.”

He hoped Blaine wouldn’t feel offended with the clear attempt to cover his slave status, but Blaine just grinned, touching the soft fabric. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

*

Kurt had decided that Columbus was a better place for their date than Lima – it meant that they would spend most of the evening in the car, but neither of them really minded, and the relative certainty that they wouldn’t run into anyone Kurt knew was worth the cost of gas. Plus, Kurt had found the perfect movie playing at one of the lesser-known theaters.

Moulin Rouge, a love story of a beautiful pleasure slave and a free man, had been controversial and widely criticized when it had come out some years before. Now that the noise surrounding it had long died down, the movie, as beautiful as it was, had been nearly forgotten. But Kurt had loved it when he first watched it as a starry-eyed 13-year-old, and he had a feeling Blaine would appreciate it as well.

No one at the little theater looked at them twice when they bought the tickets and found their seats in the nearly empty room. Their surroundings weren’t the most romantic Kurt could think of, but Blaine didn’t seem to notice. He looked like he was trying very hard not to bounce on the balls of his feet as he looked around, excited.

They had the whole last row to themselves so once the lights went out, Kurt did something daring and unplanned: he reached across to the other seat and offered his hand, palm up, to Blaine, who took it with a delighted smile.

They held hands all through the movie, and Kurt was amazed at how intimate this simple act could be. Blaine’s hand felt so alive in his – the pulse fluttering under the thin skin of his wrist where Kurt drew little circles with his thumb, the perpetually cold fingers that grew warm under Kurt’s touch, the way Blaine unknowingly squeezed his hand when emotions in the movie ran high.

Blaine’s eyes were wet when the movie ended, and Kurt wanted nothing more than to hold him and promise that everything would be alright, that his story, unlike Satine’s, would have a happy ending one day, Kurt would make sure of it. But this was not a place where he could safely do that. Instead, he had to withdraw his hand when the lights came back on, even though he wanted to hold on, walk out of there hand in hand and never let go. But that was impossible. While two boys on a date might be accepted in Columbus, they would be risking some serious hostility if anyone recognized Blaine as a slave. And it wouldn’t be that hard to do. Even with his brand covered, Blaine didn’t act like a free man.

Dinner in a nice restaurant was out of the question for the same reason, so Kurt had done his research and found several food trucks in the nearby Short North area, which, incidentally, was known to be the most open-minded and gay friendly neighborhood in Columbus. He still didn’t dare take Blaine’s hand as they walked through the brightly-lit streets, but at least no one cared if they sat down too close while eating their tacos, or looked at each other too long, sharing warm pie and besotted smiles.

It was nearly midnight when they got home, and Kurt was grateful for his father’s idea to take Carole on a romantic weekend getaway. Explaining where they’d been so late without revealing the new, tentative bond between them would be difficult, and Kurt wasn’t ready to go there. Not yet.

Finn’s car wasn’t in the driveway either, which probably meant he was staying over at Rachel’s, and the sudden realization that he was alone with Blaine in the empty house made Kurt’s body buzz with equal parts anticipation and nerves. After the evening filled with talking and laughing and casual touches whenever they could get away with them, with the sweet kind of tension growing in between them, Kurt felt warm and happy, affected in a way that could make him careless if he forgot himself. Not too fast, he told himself. Remember what he’d been through.

They ended up in Blaine’s room, Kurt lingering in the doorway, feeling like this was the time to say goodnight, like he would on any other boy’s porch after the first date. But Blaine looked at him with bright eyes, glowing with the joy of this evening, and Kurt couldn’t quite bring himself to go yet. He took a step into the room.

“Here, let me help you with your tie,” he said, and Blaine stepped into his personal space without hesitation. He was a few inches shorter than Kurt, and when he looked into Kurt’s eyes, he had to tilt his head up slightly, the vulnerable line of his neck on full display. Kurt reached to open the snap of the collar.

He couldn’t resist the impulse to stroke his fingers along the unscarred side of Blaine’s neck again as he pulled the bowtie free, and the gasp that escaped Blaine’s lips at the touch was more distinct now, shuddering.

“Kurt,” he breathed, and stepped even closer, and then Blaine’s eyes were glancing down, his breath quickening, and Kurt couldn’t resist. Slowly, ready to withdraw at any sign of distress, he leaned in until their lips were only a breath apart.

Blaine didn’t flinch, didn’t do anything to stop him. “Please,” he whispered instead, and tilted his head up, closing the gap between them, the soft warmth of his lips better than anything Kurt ever imagined about kissing.

It was only a single kiss, a few seconds of contact as they pressed their lips together, Kurt’s hand cupping Blaine’s smooth cheek, and then Kurt withdrew, his breathing faster. He would love to prolong this, to keep kissing Blaine for hours – god knew that they could tonight. But he didn’t trust himself. His judgment was clouded with the wonderful evening they’d just had and the pleasure of this first kiss was already tingling in his lips. It would be too easy to push just a step further than Blaine, as fragile as he still was, was comfortable with, without even knowing. Better to say goodnight now.

With a soft kiss to Blaine’s forehead, Kurt took a step away. “Thank you for tonight, Blaine. It was amazing. All of it. I hope you enjoyed it too.”

The light in Blaine’s eyes burnt bright and happy. “I loved it.”

“We could repeat it some time, if you want?”

“Yes please.” Blaine sounded so eager and excited that Kurt had to grin.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he said, the endearment glowing warm in his chest. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Kurt.”

With a last nod, Kurt left the room and closed the door, so he didn’t see the happy little spin that went on inside, Blaine’s hand pressed to his smiling lips.