The next few weeks are spent in a blissful flurry of stolen moments, lingering looks when no-one’s looking, playing the piano and harmonizing before the others arrive, making love or rehearsing as Kurt calls it, breathlessly giggling through trysts anywhere they can think of in the theatre and slowly relearning every inch of each other’s bodies and hearts.

Deep down Kurt feels the strange twist of his own deceptions and knows his world could unravel at any second. He watches Christophe, but sees nothing. He watches the girls, but only sees fleeting glances of pride and glee for him and Blaine. He watches the other actors, the writers, anyone who could notice and mention something about the star and the pianist, but no-one does.

Blaine seems to revel in the mystery, the dark thrill of getting caught and Kurt wonders if he has some kind of kink or complex about this kind of stuff from when they were teens keeping it quiet around the halls of Dalton and McKinley.

Blaine leans in over morning coffee one morning about two weeks after their first time together again and whispers. “Doesn’t it feel a bit like the show? You, the star, me, a lowly piano player.”

Kurt snorts over his coffee mug and looks at Blaine with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not lowly.”

“You know what I mean.” Blaine replies, smug and aware of the wave of desire that slides through Kurt. Kurt smiles fondly at him and they grab their bags to leave. Blaine first and Kurt a few minutes later, as always and Blaine takes a detour the long way to the theatre. They brush hands as they leave, unaware of the eyes that are watching them.

Their little love affair carries on for four and a half weeks and in that time Kurt sleeps better, eats better and takes care of himself, without telling Blaine. He hates himself a little.

He’s lying naked on Blaine’s bed one Monday when they have no rehearsal, no Christophe, no co-stars and co-musicians to worry about. Kurt is lying on his back, staring up at Blaine’s ceiling and thinks about his own apartment and the one they might someday own together. Quiet clicking distracts him from dreams of the future and he tilts his head, looking at Blaine sat as his desk, half dressed and tapping away at his laptop. “What are you doing Blaine?” He asks and Blaine glances at him for a second.

“Just an idea, it’s a surprise.” He chuckles, ending the email and sending it before Kurt can do anything else.

Kurt turns over and bounces on his knees on the bed, ignoring the thought of how ridiculous he must look, bouncing on his secret boyfriend’s bed buck naked. “Is it a surprise for me?” He asks, excited.

Blaine gets up and walks over, cupping his hand under Kurt’s chin and pushing him backwards where Kurt lands on the covers with a soft ‘oof’ then covers his boyfriend’s body with his own. “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?” He says seductively, palming at Kurt’s semi, teasing it into full attention.

He kisses down Kurt’s body and licks and teases until the laptop and surprise are forgotten in the haze of lust and love. Blaine sinks down on Kurt’s length, cheeks hollowing to suck hard as the older man keens under him. He bobs a few times, swallowing Kurt’s cock down as far as possible and drags his teeth back up as Kurt screams under him. Without taking his mouth off him Blaine grabs the lube from under the pillow and slicks his fingers up, ignoring Kurt’s incredulous snort and really, where else does he expect Blaine to keep it?

Blaine circles Kurt’s hole with one finger as he carries on sucking, slipping it in, earning a howl from Kurt. He pushes it in to the knuckle then pushes in another. He looks up to see Kurt’s head thrashing from side to side and a wave of pride rolls over him at still being able to pull the normally solid, icy man apart. He fucks Kurt for a while with two fingers, scissoring him open until he hears Kurt whine low, a signal that he’s close so he adds another fingers and pushes them all the way in and shoves them into his love’s prostate. Kurt comes with a scream and Blaine swallows every drop before he slicks himself up, removing his fingers and presses his body against and into Kurt’s.

He sets up a slow pace, Kurt’s legs hooked around his waist, keening tiredly. Blaine leans down and their lips meet as Blaine gathers in pace, he knows he won’t last long this time and pushes himself over Kurt, shoving deeper into his boyfriend once, twice and then floods Kurt’s insides with his seed.

Kurt screams in pleasure again, back bowing under the rush of cum inside him and comes again. He slumps to the bed, exhausted and sweaty, eyes sliding closed.

Blaine watches him, combing his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair and kisses his forehead, whispering into his hair. “I’ll love you for the rest of our lives, my Kurt.” He promises then wraps his arms around Kurt, falling asleep on his shoulder, still joined to Kurt.

Kurt is hurrying to the theatre, swearing under his breath. He’s late, hasn’t had time to eat or take his medicine properly and he hopes he can charm Christophe into giving him five minutes to grab a snack and quietly take the pills hidden in his dressing room.

He and Blaine had overslept but the younger man had gone ten minutes before Kurt, as arranged. His eyes slide to the left and he notices Rogers, the security man employed by Christophe to keep them safe and report back to Christophe on anything that could affect the show. He’s walking along the pavement on the other side of the rod and his eyes are trained on Kurt. The glasz-eyed man wonders what he’s doing out of the theatre then his eyes widen as he realises. Rogers is following him. Crap.

Kurt reaches the theatre and grips the door handle, taking a calming breath before wrenching the door open, breezing in as if he isn’t having a complete meltdown mentally. His eyes catch Blaine’s on the way to the stage and he breezes past Christophe and the others, storming into his dressing room grabbing a cup of water and his pills, downing them both before the door opens.

Christophe stands there and they stare at each other for a few seconds before the director turns and walks into his office while Kurt follows.

Christophe sits and Kurt raises an eyebrow. The older man thinks for a second before he asks in a quiet voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Kurt?”

Kurt takes a sharp breath in, his icy demeanour hardening for a fight. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Christophe replies, looking down at his desk and shuffling some papers. Kurt looks down and sees both his and Blaine’s pictures, profiles and contracts.

Kurt looks away, contemplating his next move before asking quietly. “Why are you having me followed, Christophe?”

“Because you’re screwing the pianist, Kurt!” Christophe shouts, losing his temper and banging his fists on the desk, making Kurt flinch back and stare wide-eyed.

“What I’m doing, Christophe, is nothing to do with you.” Kurt hisses back, angry and embarrassed.

Christophe’s eyes widen and he looks livid before sighing and slumping back, staring at Kurt. “You promised me, Kurt. I told you not to and you defied me. It is my business when it affects my show. Not yours, not your lover’s. My show. Your fantasies of workplace romance have no place in my show. Someone else, anyone else but your little fling has to stop.”

Kurt’s mouth drops open and his eyes spark icy cold, blue and dangerous. “Don’t you dare, Christophe. Don’t you dare say that. Blaine is not some little fantasy I’m having, he’s not a fling. He was my boyfriend for over a year. I loved him. You dare say things like that; you know nothing about him, or us.”

The director blew out a puff of air, looking around the room then back at Kurt who’s looking at him curiously again. “You have no choice, Kurt. Do you want him? Do you want this show? This is your career. The show is more important, you promised.”

“You know how this goes, Christophe.” Kurt said, shoving his hands deeper into his trench coat.

Christophe sighed “This isn’t a movie, Kurt. This isn’t Moulin Rouge.”

Kurt shook his head and smiled, looking around them and spoke. “I’ve compared my life to films since I was a kid. It was easier that way. The bullied, gay kid whose only friends were the people in movies who accepted him and were saying it was ok to be different. What Blaine and I have been doing is like Kass and Dulcie. Kass and Dulcie, Christian and Satine didn’t choose each other. I didn’t choose Blaine. He happened to me on that staircase but I can choose this. I’m choosing to be happy, you told me not to fall in love but I’ve never fallen out of love with Blaine. Please don’t force me to stop seeing him; you might not like the results.”

Christophe sighed as Kurt turned on his heel and started to leave. “Kurt you’re dying.”

Kurt froze and turned around, eyes wide in horror. “Who told you?”

“Rachel. Don’t be angry at her Kurt, she was right to tell me. Have you told him? Have you told him that one day he’ll have to say goodbye to you permanently?” Christophe asked, as Kurt looked out into the hallway to make sure they weren’t being overheard.

Kurt walked back over and stood by the desk, anger and exhaustion colouring his eyes. “I haven’t told him and I don’t know what Rachel’s told you but I’m not dying. It could kill me, yes but it won’t. I’m taking medication and I’m being careful.”

Christophe sighed. “Ok, Kurt but you have to tell him.”

Kurt considered it for a few seconds then turned on his heel again and left. Christophe leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples, thinking about exhausting stars and musicians, a plan formulating in his mind.