Kurt flopped back against the wall of the elevator and heaved out an apology that sounded thin and lifeless compared to the absolute regret he felt.

“We’re done with apologies, remember?”

“I know, but…damn him. I have never seen him act that way.”

Blaine pushed the button to close the door and went to Kurt, pressing close, grazing his lips against Kurt’s neck. “We probably do need to talk about…whatever that was…”

“Probably…”

Blaine placed a hand on either side of Kurt’s shoulders, breath and lips ghosting over his jaw and neck as he spoke. “…but right at the moment…I’m exhausted from traveling, I’m already overwhelmed at this city, and I’m feeling just a little...” Blaine sucked Kurt’s earlobe into his mouth and dragged his teeth over the soft skin before kissing his way back to Kurt’s mouth. “…predatory.”

Kurt smiled against him and wrapped a leg around Blaine’s calf, sharing breath and space, watching his eyes darken with want. “But you already have me…”

“Do I? I’m not sure everyone’s in agreement with that.”

The elevator came to a stop with a gentle rest and a soft ding of a bell, but neither budged when the door opened into the lobby.

“Then take me again.”

***

With his hand gripping Kurt’s like a vice, Blaine led the way back to the apartment, only needing Kurt’s gentle prodding once when he’d taken a left outside of the offices instead of a right. It was a short walk, stalled only by the traffic light in front of Kurt’s building, but that was the perfect opportunity to publicly announce his claim on this man, twirling Kurt into himself, kissing him fiercely, pulling back only when the few people around them shifted to cross the street.

Kurt tried to slow to introduce him to the desk clerk, but clearly, now was not the time for niceties or cordialities. “I’ll umm…on the way back down, Colleen. Blaine!” Kurt yelped when Blaine yanked him into the elevator and laughed when his fingers hovered over the numbers, not remembering what floor they were on. “Seven, sweetheart. Do I need to put a tag around your neck?”

“No.” Blaine pushed him against the wall of the elevator, cupping his face in his hands to kiss him hard and wet, grinding Kurt into the bar that surrounded the paneled walls. “Just feeling a little...” Their eyes met, dark, needy, desperate. "…short circuited."

Once in the apartment, they moved quickly, positively, clothes dropping a path on the wooden floor, giggles morphing into moans, cries, and calls of pleasure that echoed through the high ceilings, an intimate soundtrack to their passions. Blaine was forceful and rough, leaving marks on Kurt's pale smooth skin with his fingers, his teeth, finally, finally thrusting hard and fast, sinking into Kurt with possession again and again, his grip never wavering, not wanting one moment to be about anything but them. Kurt. Blaine. Each for the other. No one else’s.

As they curled together, spent and wrecked, Blaine covered Kurt in tenderness, finding every mark he’d made, dotting each scratch and hickey with tongue-lead kisses, words of comfort and warmth mumbled against his skin. Kurt’s fingers twined in Blaine’s hair, his breath stuttering as Blaine laved at droplets of come on his belly, finally resting his curly head on Kurt’s chest, their legs tangled and cricketing together to a slow, steady pace.

“So, Love. This Jealous Blaine thing you have going on?”

Blaine chuckled and rolled into the little spoon position, snuggling in closer. “Yes?”

“Keep him close. That’s um…" Kurt dotted Blaine's back with kisses, collecting his thoughts which really only splayed more with each kiss. "Yes. Very. Shall I…" Blaine pressed his ass back against Kurt, matching the rhythm of Kurt's words. "…hrm…arrange for someone to come along and ruffle your possessive feathers now and then?”

“Oh, I’d just as soon you not…”

“Aw…”

They rocked together, wordless, soft groans in pattern with their motion, until they stilled too tired to really do much else, but not wanting to stop the connection either. Eventually, Blaine hiked himself up, pulling Kurt with him, dragging him by both hands into the bathroom. “Shower with me?”

“Always.”

They met in a sloppy kiss, their bodies still clumsy and noodled from sex. Blaine braced himself against the sink, caressing Kurt’s cheeks with his thumbs, seeking his gaze beneath sleepy lids. “Kurt…"

Kurt kept kissing him and Blaine pressed on. "Wait. Kurt. Listen…mmmm…god…" He pulled back from one particularly deep, wet, heated kiss and grounded himself with a huff. "Listen to me."

"This better be good."

"I'm being serious…stop…kissing…" Kurt was not making this easy. "Kurt Hummel."

Kurt sucked in a huge breath, closed his eyes and pursed his lips shut. "Fine. I'm resisting the hottest man in New York City, who happens to be standing ass naked in my bathroom. I hope you're happy."

"Ecstatic." Blaine stole a quick kiss before continuing. "I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to go somewhere else for…for anything.”

“It didn’t happen because it had to. It happened because I was stupid.”

“Which happened because I was stupid. Promise me you’ll come to me first if I make you unhappy.”

“I will.” Kurt kissed the tip of Blaine’s nose and slipped out of Blaine's arms to turn on the water, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Promise me you’ll act jealous every once and awhile anyway.”

Blaine growled and pulled Kurt into the shower with a squeak. Neither really remembered much after that.

***

That evening, Blaine enjoyed his first food wish, New York style pizza – from Lombardi’s no less – and was sprawled out on the floor, feeling fat and lazy and entirely sated. He had a cold beer, a hot man and a full stomach – who wouldn’t feel sated? So, why he chose his next words as he did, he’d never know.

“So. Elephant-in-the-room-named-Mitchell. What’s the story?”

Kurt was flopped on his back on the couch, equally sated and peaceful, uncharacteristically at ease about his big review the next morning. Even more uncharacteristic? Being totally unruffled by Blaine’s question. “What part do you want? Because if you want to know why he was such an asshole today, I don’t have a story to tell you.”

“How long have you known him?”

Blaine dropped his head back against the couch and sighed as Kurt ran his fingers through his curls, massaging and scratching perfectly. “We met my senior year in college. He was getting his masters. My class needed photographers to finish our projects and his needed editorial fashion to finish theirs. Mitchell and I just clicked and we've been friends ever since.”

“When did that change?”

“It didn’t.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Ugh. Okay. He had a huge break up maybe…four years after we met? He was going to ask his boyfriend to marry him, walks in to find some other dude pounding away in his guy’s ass. He called me.”

“Ouch.”

“We went out, got drunk and…”

“Comfort fuck.”

“Exactly. We never spoke of it again. It wasn’t what we were about. The few times we’ve slept together, that’s what it’s been. One of us is lost, we get drunk and…”

“Did that happen a lot?”

“No. I had a weird break up a few years ago. And then again when I got back from Ohio at Christmas and knew I had to give up New York for awhile. That was it…”

“…until me.”

“Blaine. I’m sorry. I wish more than anything that it hadn’t happened. I don’t know what else to say.”

“I know.” Blaine took Kurt’s hand to his mouth and kissed his fingertips. “I just wonder why he got all weird this time?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because he’s never seen me that bent? Maybe he was afraid my feelings for you were out of control so he doesn’t trust it? I have no idea.”

“Maybe he realized he’s in love with you after all.”

Kurt scoffed and got up to grab another drink, his bare feet padding on the wood floors. “Seriously, Blaine. It’s never been that. If something changed in him, he’s just going to have to get over it. Even if you weren’t a part of the picture, I wouldn’t be interested.”

“Why not? He's attractive. Obviously driven…”

Kurt set his drink on the end table and straddled Blaine’s lap, feeding him a grape from the fruit tray that had been left with the champagne. “Because I just don’t…he’s not…” Kurt sighed and pressed a dry kiss to Blaine’s forehead. “…I just…why do we need to have this conversation?”

“I don’t want to worry about him again the next time you come back alone.”

“Worry about him or worry about me?”

Blaine kissed Kurt’s chin to hopefully ease the glare that was forming in Kurt’s eyes. “Him. Making you uncomfortable. Deciding he had another crisis that needed comforting.”

“I’m fully capable of telling him to find his comfort elsewhere.”

“And he’ll listen?”

“He’s not a rapist, Blaine. He just acted like an asshole today.”

Kurt gently scratched at the back of Blaine’s neck, running his fingers over and through the short hair there. Blaine sighed at the soothing touch and let it take him, easing his jealousy if only a little. “I’d probably act like an asshole if I thought I was losing you to someone else, too.”

“That’s very sweet, but I really don’t think that’s what’s going on in his head.”

“You don’t think he’ll miss the rendezvous, infrequent as they were?”

“No idea. I know I won’t – hell, I don’t remember much about them anyway. I was always drunk.”

“You might be forgetting the best sex of your life!” Blaine chuckled and pulled Kurt in closer, moaning softly when Kurt’s ass nudged at Blaine’s crotch.

“Oh, no. Best sex of my life didn’t happen until I met you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.”

Blaine rolled his hips up and kissed and nipped at Kurt’s collarbone, done with conversation.

“I, um…thought we were going to take a walk tonight?”

“We only get one plan a night?”

“No…” Kurt hissed as Blaine’s hands slipped into the waistband of his lounge pants, squeezing at his ass, pulling him closer, rocking up harder. “Fuck the plans…”

Blaine leaned forward, laying Kurt on the floor, kissing his way down his abdomen and quickly ridding them both of their pants, sneaking a slow draw of his tongue over the length of Kurt’s cock before scooping him back up, resting him on his lap with a wiggle. “Yes. Fuck the plans.”

***

Blaine [08-11-23 11:43]: A dyslexic man walks into a bra.

Kurt [08-11-23 11:45]: Jesus, Blaine.

Blaine [08-11-23 11:46]: Should you be texting during your review, Mr. Hummel?

Kurt [08-11-23 11:49]: I wouldn’t be if you’d leave me alone, Chief Anderson.

Blaine [08-11-23 11:52]: Off for lunch. See you this afternoon.

After a fabulous sandwich at Viand deli, Blaine left Barney’s and took a walk outside, inadvertently finding Central Park. He sat down on an iron bench at its edge and breathed in, watching the people around him – moms, joggers, businessmen and women, tourists…every shape, size and color. The buzz of the atmosphere around him and simply getting out of the dressing room he’d spent his morning in surely contributed to the feeling of refreshment despite the humid thick New York summer air. A day of shopping with a personal shopper and stylist at one of the finest stores in the city had been fun and he was looking forward to the afternoon, but sitting still – or more accurately, standing still – was never something he enjoyed. Being pampered was unusual and getting flashes of price tags of the outfits they were bringing him was enough to induce cardiac arrest.

But, Kurt had plead. As a gift. For waiting. For loving him from a distance while he got his head screwed on straight. For coming with him this weekend. And, because Blaine didn’t feel like he had anything nice enough to wear to the show the following night. Kurt’s insistence that some people wore jeans wasn’t enough. He knew Kurt wouldn’t do such a thing and he wanted to be someone Kurt was proud to be with. Proud to be seen with.

New York City was Kurt’s turf. Kurt’s world. Blaine wanted to slot into it like a groove in a cogwheel. So, while he had initially resisted Kurt’s generous offer of a day at Barney’s, he was, admittedly, enjoying it.

He was listening to a little girl and her mother have a very serious discussion about having dessert for lunch – of which he was in full support of the daughter – when his phone buzzed.

Kurt [08-11-23 12:21]: This one’s more for Adrian, but…what do you call an alligator in a vest?

Blaine [08-11-23 12:26]: Are you on lunch break or are you risking your entire career for the gloriousness of puns?

Kurt [08-11-23 12:28]: Do you have to resist me every time I try to start one of these? This does not come naturally, sir.

Blaine [08-11-23 12:30]: My most sincere apologies. What do you call an alligator in a vest – besides fashionable?

Kurt [08-11-23 12:35]: An investigator!

Blaine [08-11-23 12:37]: You’re right – Adrian would love that one. Is it silly that after only two days I’m missing him?

Kurt [08-11-23 12:40]: I hope not, because I am too, and I thank you for totally wrecking me that way.

Blaine [08-11-23 12:44]: You’re welcome. My genetic code is adorable, what can I say?

Kurt [08-11-23 12:46]: That it is. OH! We have to tell Ade that he was right about the coral pants. Jacobs hates them too. “What was I thinking? That’s so 2012!”

Blaine [08-11-23 12:48] Spoken by the man who wears see-through dresses with boxers and combat boots to galas at the Met. He’s inspirational.

Kurt [08-11-23 12:50]: Creativity and crazy are closely related, my love.

Blaine [08-11-23 12:52]: I would have least gone for black boxers…

Kurt [08-11-23 12:54]: You should go for commando. And with that, I have to scoot. See you in a few hours.

Blaine [08-11-23 12:55]: I love you.

Kurt [08-11-23 12:56]: And now my assistant is asking why I’m grinning like a fool. I love you too.

***

“Move around in this, sit, stand and I’ll be back to do any further adjustments. I’m sure Kurt will have a few to make as well.”

Blaine chuckled, only imagining how particular Kurt was as a customer, especially in light of how meticulously fit his dress clothes were. Everything he wore looked custom made for him and him alone. He shrugged his jacket on and buttoned it, smoothing the front as he looked in the mirror for his own personal inspection.

“You are simply stunning.”

Blaine turned to the dressing room door and grinned, opening his hands so Kurt could get a full view. “You think?”

“I know…that color was made for you.” He motioned for Blaine to go back to the mirror as he slipped off his own jacket and gave him a good overall look-see. “The shape is perfect for your body…Mary is amazing.”

“Will it work with what you’re wearing?”

“Yes.” Kurt walked around Blaine, lifting the jacket at the shoulders, tugging on the sleeve, his expression becoming more and more calculating.

“My boyfriend just left the building, didn’t he?”

Kurt looked up from his squatted position in front of Blaine, checking the hem on his trousers and grinned, his cheeks coloring in a blush. “Sorry. Do you want me to leave it to them?”

“They’ll do fine, but no. I want your expertise – this thing will fit me better than anything I’ve ever owned.”

“It’s fine clothing; it should fit perfectly. I think everyone would look better if they’d wear properly fitted clothes.”

“Yeah except Target doesn’t have a tailor, Kurt.”

“Now you know why I won’t shop there.” Just as Kurt stood to grab the tape and pins resting on the chaise, Mary joined them, notebook in hand. “Mary, you’ve gone above and beyond – this is beautiful.”

“Well, he’s an easy subject. I’m sure you’ll have some adjustments, though.”

“Are you saying I’m picky?”

“Consistent?”

Blaine stood uncomfortably as Kurt and Mary sized him up and down, discussing pant and jacket sleeve length, a faultily stitched vent and once he had Blaine take off his jacket to check inseam and waist fit on his trousers, the fact that the seat needed to be taken out.

“Are you saying I have a big ass?”

“I’m saying I love your ass and if your pants fit right, everyone else will too.”

“Hrmph. Let out the seat…I understand perfectly.” Truth was, he was simply trying to deflect the fact that Kurt kept smoothing his hand down his ass – to do his job – but it was Kurt’s hand and Kurt’s touch and why couldn’t he have become a model or a professional mannequin so he would have spent his days having Kurt touch his ass?

“Are you going to wear the pant hem down or roll it with fun socks?”

“Can I do fun socks for the show? Or no socks? I was afraid it wouldn’t be formal enough.”

“Either is fine. If you want, we can pick some out and I’ll get a kerchief to work off of it.” Kurt rolled his hem up a few times, chuckling when he saw goose bumps forming on Blaine’s ankles from his fingers brushing his bare skin. “Advice? Don’t go into modeling, babe.”

“I can’t help it – you have magic fingers.”

Kurt looked up to Mary and thanked her and she graciously took the hint, quickly taking her leave. As soon as the door clicked behind her, he stood, dragging his hands up the sides of Blaine’s legs and rested them on his hips, holding him close. With a wicked grin, he leaned in and sucked at the tender skin below Blaine’s ear. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Blaine moaned and walked his hands around Kurt’s waist, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his trousers, his fingers scratching at the linen material covering the curve of his ass. He tilted into Kurt’s lips as he continued planting soft, suckling kisses all over his jaw and neck. “Oh? Was it distracting?”

“Mmm…do you remember what you did to me here last night?” Kurt took Blaine’s right hand and moved it to his side, holding it there as their bodies began swaying to the soft muzak playing overhead.

Blaine nestled his face in the crook of Kurt’s neck, breathing him in, moving his mouth over the skin with loose lips and hot breath. “I think it involved sucking. And nibbling.” Which he mimicked on Kurt’s neck.

“It did. And every time I leaned back against the arm in my conference chair…”

“Oh my. I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be.” Kurt pulled back and began untying the bow at Blaine’s neck. “I just think we need to get back home…” He slid the silk out from the collar and tossed it aside. “…and make a matching set.”

Blaine grinned, grabbing Kurt’s hands from their work on his buttons and kissed him, hard but sweet, his smile never leaving his face. “It’s only fair.”

***

“So, after that discussion, they launched into an argument about whether to use a 28 ligne button or a 30 ligne button. That one millimeter can cause a disaster of apocalyptic proportions.”

“You lost me at ligne.” Blaine popped the last mozzarella ball in his mouth, spun around on his ass and laid his head in Kurt’s lap, looking up at him with a cheeky grin. Barefoot, full-bellied and lounging in a park in New York City with his sweetie – yet another trifecta of perfection.

Kurt looked down and grinned, fingering ringlets of curls as he talked. “Unit of measurement. 1-freaking-40th of an inch. They argued over that for an hour. Same color, same style, same placement. I wanted to set Jacob’s scruffy beard on fire.”

“So, what do you do when that crap happens? We can have protocol arguments that go into the night at the station. I’ve lost at least 2 years of my life listening to shit like that.”

“I used to just sit and seethe because I really didn’t have a place to speak up, but now, I let them rant and rave while I sit there and do the math. If we go with 28, we’ll need one more button, but they cost less. If it ends up as little as $0.03 per shirt difference, that’s the one that wins. Every time.”

“Why don’t they start there?”

“Because that, my sweet beautiful man, would mean we’d only be there for half a day and then lunch wouldn’t be provided.”

“Ahhhh, the stomach rules again.”

“The stomach rul-…” Kurt stopped, feeling his phone buzzing in his pocket. “…sit up, babe.” Blaine did and Kurt pulled out his phone, looking at the caller i.d. with a frown. “It’s Carole?” Blaine made himself busy cleaning up their picnic dinner while Kurt answered. “Hey, Carole…”

“Kurt?”

“Dad?”

“It’s Friday night, Kurt. Where the hell are you? You’re late for dinner.”