With less than a week left before Regionals, Kurt was once again struck by just how different Dalton was from McKinley. About this time at his old school, all hell would be breaking loose: Mr. Schuester would be trying to spread the wealth of solos while still giving them the best chance to win, which almost always meant trying to justify why Rachel and Finn got yet another duet. Rachel would be choosing that moment to fall for him for the umpteenth time, which meant that Quinn would spend the week berating Finn and threatening to quit if Rachel got to sing more duets with him - spurred on by Sandy, of course, who was gunning for solos herself. Meanwhile Puck would be in the background grumbling about how no one ever let him sing, either, and Brittany would stare blankly at the new music as though trying to figure out how in the world there could be more words to learn. The fighting would come to a head either two days before the competition or - in the case of the disastrous Sophomore year Regionals - on the bus ride on the way to the competition.

The Warblers were in fine form themselves.

"I think Blaine's version might just be better than the original."

"Yes, but it's not in his natural key," David replied, talking around Wes to correct Thad before glancing back out at the rest of the group. "We can rearrange it - if we bring it up a third, it might be easier."

Blaine sat in a chair facing the Council, the other Warblers gathered around on the couches. He shook his head and replied, "There's no reason to rearrange the entire song and make everyone relearn the harmonies in a different key less than a week before competition. At that point we would be better off learning something new entirely."

"I agree," Thad jumped in. "We should just let you sing what you want to sing."

Apparently, in this strange alternate universe that was Dalton Academy, where everyone sang together and respected each other, the only fights before competition were fights over who could fawn over Blaine the most. Even Kurt, who could certainly appreciate Blaine's talent, and found himself daydreaming about how attractive Blaine was when he sang, thought it was a bit much. Blaine Anderson: Great singer, or best singer ever? could still get old quickly.

He glanced over and caught Blaine's eye. He looked bored of it all, Kurt concluded, like he didn't really want to hear any of it anyway. If this was intended as an attempt to boost Blaine's ego, it clearly wasn't working; if anything, he seemed tired of the conversation.

"Unless you think I'm not hitting the notes, I don't see any reason to do that," Blaine stated. He didn't think he'd been screwing any of it up, but on the off chance that they were hearing something he wasn't then by all means he could change something - he did want to give them the best chance, after all.

"I certainly wouldn't say that," Wes interjected.

"You sound perfect," Thad stated with an eager smile.

That was the problem, wasn't it? They sounded perfect - they always did. The Warblers prided themselves on technical excellence, which was a hallmark of their type of a capella groups. Hitting the wrong note in a full choir with a hundred other people singing was barely noticeable, but hitting a wrong note with only a dozen or so other singers, everyone on a different line, with no instruments to cover it up - the stakes were higher.

The stakes were always higher, it seemed.

But that would never make them the best.

"May I say something?" he asked, and the three Councilmembers looked at one another in surprise.

"Of course," Wes stated after a moment, looking him over as he tried to determine what Blaine might be up to. "The Council recognizes Senior Warbler Blaine Anderson."

Blaine nodded and stood to address the group. "Thank you. First, I would like to say what a privilege it has been to lead all of you in these wonderful songs this year. I appreciate the level of trust you have placed in me as lead vocalist, and that's not something I take lightly. Which is why I have to say..." he hesitated. Should he even be saying this? Could any good possibly come of it?

Too late now, he realized with every eye on him. He couldn't very well back down now.

"No solo you can give me with be enough to win the competition on Saturday." There was an outburst of confusion, frustration, near-anger from a few, but Blaine continued quickly. "Our technical abilities are beyond compare, the arrangements are fantastic, and all of us have been working to perfect our parts. But I think that might be part of the problem."

"How dare you?" one of them - it sounded like Trent - demanded at the same time David added, "So you're saying we're too perfect?"

"I'm saying that we spend all our time trying to get things so right that we forget what music is meant to be," he stated, trying to convey something that seemed like an impossible feeling to describe. "Music is about being able to move people in a way that ordinary words can't, it's about emotion and raw passion. When we sing it's like we're- porcelain birds swaying on a windchime. We hit the same notes every time, but it's mathematical, it's not musical. Think about any great singer, any performer you want to emulate - they always have that spark." Judy Garland without emotion would be-...well, she'd be Shirley Temple, and nobody went to see her at the Grove Theater or Carnegie Hall, did they?

He looked around at his fellow Warblers and his eyes landed on Kurt. He could tell from the look that Kurt knew exactly who he was thinking about - they had spent more than enough afternoons listening to her in his room, after all - but Kurt also seemed confused. He stared up with narrowed eyes and a tight, perplexed expression.

He wished he could explain it. He wished he could at least say it in a way that Kurt could understand, because if anyone would get what he was trying to say-

If anyone understood that sometimes it was more important to feel than to be perfect, surely it had to be Kurt.

"Think about Lima Independent High School performing at Sectionals. They had an incredible technical ability, and their vocals were fantastic but they were flat. Dull. Lifeless. The second number had no personality at all, just a series of accurate notes in complex chords. But think about the first number they did - the girl and boy dancing together. Her voice was far less technically impressive but it was fantastic anyway. You could tell exactly what that girl was feeling, and she made the audience feel it, too. She had such spirit when she sang...if the rest of the group had that, they would have beaten us. I know that's going to be our undoing on Saturday, too."

In the midst of the eruption of indignant interjections from the rest of the Warblers, Kurt's hand shot up. "If I may?"

Wes banged his gavel twice on the table in rapid succession while declaring "Order!" and the room's noise level reduced to a disgruntled rumble.

Kurt smiled and stood, nearly eye-to-eye with Blaine and much closer than he had realized before. The instinct to touch him in support and fondness and really just because he was there was nearly overwhelming, but he clasped his hands in front of himself and stated, "I believe that Blaine is absolutely right. When I was in my old glee club, this was the time of the competition cycle where we would be fighting like crazy. Cats and dogs had nothing on us. Everyone wanting solos, everyone wanting someone else to not get solos, everyone worried about their boyfriend or girlfriend singing with someone else- though I suppose that isn't an issue here..." he trailed off, purposely avoiding Blaine's eyes lest he say something stupid. Joking was a nervous habit of his, and often when he was most nervous was when it became the least appropriate. "But it was because we had so much desire to perform. I've seen the Warblers perform showstopping numbers - the first time I set foot on campus, it was...a treat to watch you all. But lately I think we get so caught up in being precise that we don't always remember to enjoy it." He sat down and shot Blaine a look that said 'I tried, at least' and Blaine gave a faint smile.

Wes nodded thoughtfully. "Warbler Blaine, what do you propose instead?"

This was the harder part, Blaine realized as the words suddenly left the tip of his tongue. He knew what he wanted to say, and he knew what would get the end result he wanted, and he knew what would bring out his most passionate performance, but he couldn't say any of those things. "I would propose a new song in place of 'Can't Take My Eyes Off of You.' A duet," he stated, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. "Someone to play off of, to draw out each other's emotions."

David looked murderous. Thad looked confused. But Wes looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, "All right. A vote, then. All those in favour of a dual lead at Regionals."

Blaine glanced around with barely-covered nervousness as he watched the hands slowly raise. It looked as though some of them still weren't sure why he was doing this, but at the very least they trusted him. He smiled as Wes counted the votes, as it was clear that his proposal had been accepted. Now he just had to get the second part into place.

"Now, for the audition list-"

"No," he stated, and David's eyes widened as he paused, pen held just over the official minutes. "No auditions. I would like to do the number...with Kurt."

Kurt's head jerked up so quickly that, had he kept hits wits about him better, he would have been embarrassed by how spastic it looked. Blaine wanted to do a duet with him? After last time, that seemed like it could only end in disaster.

Except so much about Blaine had changed recently. He wasn't the same boy he'd been in February, he was different - more secure. More confident. More ready to accept who he was. More ready to acknowledge him in private, at the very least, which hadn't always been the case. Maybe this really was something fantastic in the making.

"I- I couldn't, there are so many talented voices here, I wouldn't want to-" he protested, unable to take his eyes off Blaine for more than a split second.

Blaine flashed a warm smile and rolled his eyes as if to say 'Don't you want to sing with me, silly?' before adding, for the group's benefit, "After his exceptional solo at the Showcase, I believe Kurt has more than earned a duet."

"I-"

"All those in favour of Kurt being my duet partner for Regionals," Blaine called for the vote. Almost every hand went up.

* * * * *

Kurt wasn't sure when he started being able to feel Blaine enter a room, but as he sat in the Commons and tried to focus on F. Scott Fitzgerald he swore he knew Blaine was there as soon as he heard the doors open. Maybe he'd memorized the pattern of his steps in those boring loafers. Maybe he could smell his aftershave, though it was unlikely at this distance; rather, he swore he could smell it but suspected it might be a Pavlovian response. In either event, he wasn't surprised when he heard Blaine offer a quiet, "Hey." There was a smile in his tone, and when Kurt glanced up he saw the matching one on Blaine's face - sweet, private, genuine, like it usually was when they were alone. There was the smile everyone else got to see, the confident 'Look at me, I'm practically Elvis and everyone wants to be my friend' one that went with the swagger and the status at Lead Warbler Vocalist...and then there was this one. Kurt didn't have to think for a moment to decide which one he liked better.

"Hello," he replied with a smile of his own.

"Are you busy?"

Kurt glanced at his book, then back up at Blaine. He was supposed to be finishing the text and starting his essay, but all he could process was the fact that in no universe would Gatsby want to be with Daisy. And clearly Nick was interested in Gatsby, too - just look at the way he was described. No heterosexual had that much preoccupation with another gentleman's clothing. "Desperate not to be, actually."

"Great. I found the perfect song for Regionals and was hoping we could practice."

"Do tell." Kurt had to admit he was surprised by Blaine's choice. It wasn't anything like the usual Warbler fare. "I'm impressed," he said as Blaine gave him a hesitant smile, as though checking for his approval. "You're usually so Billboard Hot 100."

"Well, I did say I wanted something more emotional," he offered nervously.

"This will be," Kurt confirmed, then hesitated. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"What? Don't you think we'll sound good?"

He thought they would sound amazing, but that wasn't what he was worried about. He was worried about what happened when Blaine realized what the lyrics were kind of talking about - or how they could be construed. Or what the real message of the song was. "Of course. I'm just a little concerned this might be...too emotional," he offered euphemistically. "I'm surprised you chose it is all."

"You know I love Broadway - and this show in particular."

"I do know that." They had only talked about the show a few thousand times. "But I also know that it's potentially revealing and a little more controversial than you would ordinarily want to be associated with."

It was, Blaine had to admit, but that was almost what made it more important. It was about them. It was about New York (ironically enough, all things considered). It was about wanting to believe in what Kurt believed in so genuinely. After all, if there was one way he had always been able to convince himself of something, it was by acting it out for long enough. And what better way to act things out than through song?

If he sang it hard enough, long enough, with Kurt up there with him to genuinely believe it, then maybe...maybe he could start really believing in it, too.

"I think it will be great," he stated with more confidence than he felt. "I think we'll be great." He drew in a deep breath and with a little brighter smile added, "I have the arrangement all worked out if you want to work on it."

Kurt closed his book and slipped it into his bag. "Sounds great."

Blaine opened his notebook and kicked himself. He brought everything else except that sheet music? "It's in my room," he stated looking sheepish. He thought for a moment about running to get it and coming back, but realized there was another option. One he almost liked better. "We could practice up there," he suggested.

If the point was to channel emotion and depth and passion, that did make sense, didn't it? Where else could he be vulnerable enough to tap into those things instead of just acting out how he thought they might look? Where else could he let his concerns about perfection drop just long enough to create something real and beautiful?

What else was the song about, anyway?

Kurt looked at him with a bit of a knowing smirk as he stood with an exaggerated sway. "With the album - since we don't have a 16-piece band of boys to back us up," he said in a voice that made very clear he doubted that was the real motivation.

"Sure," Blaine replied.

Kurt smiled and slipped his bag over his shoulder and followed Blaine out of the Commons. He wasn't sure when exactly Blaine had started holding doors open for him when he passed - he wanted to say it was after they'd exchanged pins, but he couldn't be sure. It was new, at any rate, and chivalrous without being patronizing, and he found he liked it a great deal. It made him think of regal movie star courtships for some reason though every man well-mannered enough to know not to eat dinner with his hands knew to hold open doors...

...for ladies. There was that downside, but it didn't feel that way with Blaine. It felt respectful instead of feminizing. Rather than try to thank Blaine or explain to him why he enjoyed it, he simply smiled as he passed the threshold.

The downside to practicing in Blaine's room became clear almost immediately. In public it was difficult enough to pretend not to want to touch Blaine all the time, to kiss him just because he was close enough to...when they were alone in his room, where no one could see them and there was no reason to stop except the vague knowledge that there was work that needed to be done, the herculean task of getting something accomplished became nearly impossible.

And that was before Blaine started singing.

Kurt wasn't sure how to describe what about Blaine looked different during this song than during any other, but there was definitely something there. Instead of the usual faux-confidence, with its bright, toothy smile and strong gestures that vaguely acted out the lyrics, punctuating the rhythmic sections, Blaine wore a more hesitant expression. His smile was almost shy, private, just a bit sly as though he knew that only he and Kurt knew what he was really singing about.

It was about finding somewhere they could ignore the rest of the world and just be themselves. About New York. About their future.

About Blaine's dorm room, the little safe haven where Kurt could wax poetic about the life they would have together. Where they could exchange pins and know that they were the only people in the universe who knew the difference. Where they could kiss each other without fear because no one could catch them. Where Blaine could let the confident, perfect exterior drop and give him those sweet, adoring looks that made Kurt blush and feel like the luckiest boy in the world because this amazing guy thought he was worth noticing.

It was about being safe no matter what the rest of the world thought about them. About being understood, if only by each other.

Blaine's eyes were full of earnestness, as though he was pinning every bit of his hopes and dreams on the song being right. After all, if the song was right, then that meant he couldn't be 'wrong.' If the song was right, then they could be together like this - somewhere, someday. If the song was right...

Kurt couldn't help himself, reaching over to run his hand slowly up and down Blaine's arm as he sang in reassurance. He knew that was out there for them, he knew it for sure. After all, Leroy had told him: just find a place where there are others. Find somewhere they could be themselves, that they could find other people, and they would be safe there. And New York had to be one of those places, he just knew it. Between the sailors, and people who liked everything he liked - because if he and Blaine were the only boys he had ever known who liked musicals this much, then surely the men who made musicals had to be like them, too. They had to be sexual inverses like he was. And the men in fashion - Christian Dior? Pierre Balman? Unless there was something fundamentally different about Europeans (which he had long wondered), then maybe they were like them, too. So a city where men such as them were respected and regarded as the visionaries they were, then that meant there had to be other homosexuals there.

There had to be. If they were going to survive anywhere, it would be there, and he wasn't about to consider the alternatives.

Blaine grinned, meeting Kurt's eyes as he sang, and reached over to run his thumb along Kurt's cheek. Kurt's eyes fluttered closed as he picked up his part of the verse, his hand sliding down Blaine's arm to clasp his other hand. He felt Blaine's lightly-calloused thumb trace the line of his jaw then slowly up over his bottom lip, and found himself unable to concentrate on the lyrics. He knew them by heart, he'd had them memorized for at least a year or two, but for some reason with this boy so close-

His eyes flew open as he tried to fumble for the sheet music with his free hand, and he found himself staring into Blaine's eyes. They were more dark gold than brown at this distance, almost the colour of the bronze sculptures in the main building, framed by long, thick eyelashes that Kurt had somehow managed to not really notice before, with an intensity that left Kurt breathless.

They'd kissed a hundred times already, why did everything feel so much more heightened? he wondered as he tried to force himself to remember to inhale, breath quivering a little. Usually everything was either sweet and lazy but casual - the afternoons spent kissing on Blaine's bed where it felt like hours passed and the only sign it had been longer than a few minutes was how sore and swollen his lips were - or hard and fast and intense where there wasn't any time to notice little details because things like the way Blaine's eyes changed colour were overridden by the hot influx of sudden sensations that left him dizzy. The moment, with the intense staring and slow-motion feel, was new and a little terrifying in its exposure. It was like if Blaine kept staring for a few more seconds he could see through Kurt and that-

He shivered slightly as Blaine's thumb moved from the plumpest part of his lip down to cup his chin, tilting his head down just enough for the intense kiss that followed. Kurt gripped Blaine's hand harder and moved his other hand up to clutch at Blaine's shoulder. He felt weak in the knees, as though he might collapse forward into Blaine at any moment, and a soft moan of surprise escaped. Blaine's hand disentangled from his and Kurt felt a steadying arm wrap around his back, pulling him closer. Kurt reached up to cup Blaine's cheek as he finally found his bearings and felt steady enough to return the kiss, reveling in the sort of loving neediness.

Things had felt needy between them before - that time Kurt didn't want to think about in the Commons, for one. But this felt different. Blaine wasn't practically ripping his clothes off and trying to devour his face in some pent-up desperation, it was...It was the difference between wolfing down a meal because he hadn't eaten all day, and eating it quickly because it tasted too good to resist.

What the hell was that metaphor supposed to be, anyway? Apparently attending a school full of teenage boys was rubbing off on him in unexpected ways.

He knew logically he should step back. Anything leaving him reeling this much when it had barely begun was sure to end in disaster...and a few weeks ago, he would have. A few weeks ago, he would have told Blaine gently but firmly that they should stop because he wasn't ready to go through any of that again, and that as much he enjoyed being boyfriends and as much as he loved Blaine, the intensity was scaring him. A few weeks ago, he would have stepped back from Blaine before Blaine could bolt out the door.

But things were different now. Blaine had chosen him to sing a duet with. He had actively sought him out instead of last time when they were thrown together as a consequence of Sam's desire to thank him for helping. Blaine had voluntarily chosen to be in the same room with him when they sang instead of trying to do everything he could to get away from him. And then he had invited him up to the dorm room where they both knew what tended to happen, and when they both knew they would be singing and that neither of them could resist the other when they sang.

Blaine had made the first move. That meant he wasn't making up any of this in his head. It meant he wasn't imagining some relationship that wasn't there. It was like when Blaine had kissed him at the drive-in: it meant he was on-board. It meant he was in this and not just skirting around the edges. Scared or not, slowly evolving to the point where he didn't consider himself sick as though he was, it was still progress.

And it was huge.

And it meant there was no way he could step back. Not when Blaine had picked a song to sing about their future together for crying out loud. Not when Blaine kissed him like he loved him more than he needed to breathe.

Blaine pulled back barely a few inches, arm still tightly around Kurt's waist, and stared into his eyes. Was he supposed to be doing this? Blaine wondered. After they-...was it really right to-...after last time, he wouldn't have blamed Kurt for never speaking to him again, and now he was heading down the exact same path again. It was all so fast, and he could feel the frantic need building in him - the one that made him feel like if he didn't go back to kissing Kurt right this second he might die.

He hated that feeling. That feeling that still seemed wrong no matter what Kurt tried to tell him, if only because it was that kind of unrelenting hedonistic urge that had made him hurt this amazing, gorgeous boy whose fingers were digging into his shoulder in an attempt to stand upright. That need, that desperate need that never seemed to go away entirely but was now taking over in such a way that he swore his body might start moving on its own any second now, was the opposite of everything he tried to be.

Dreams were one thing, and he was learning to slowly not feel inherently disturbed by those. But this was dangerous.

He tried to speak, to ask Kurt-...he wasn't sure what. To go away so he wouldn't maul the counter-tenor? To give him a minute? Whether they should be doing this now? Whether they should do it at all? Kurt drew in a breath, glasz eyes shining and just the slightest bit unfocused as though he were living halfway between reality and some dream-like state, and nodded - a tiny movement of his head that conveyed nothing but eagerness.

Blaine swallowed hard and nudged Kurt gently in the direction of the bed. At the very least it would keep him from falling down.

Kurt scooted awkwardly backwards onto the bed, shimmying up toward the pillow in an uncoordinated mess of flailing limbs, then looked up at Blaine expectantly with just a hint of nervousness. The way he practically laid himself out for the taking in that position- Blaine moved hurriedly onto the bed, toeing off his shoes on the way, and covered Kurt's body with his own. The blissful sigh Kurt released at the contact sent a hot jolt through him and he shifted uncomfortably as his pants started to feel a little too tight; the shifting only exacerbated his problem, and he couldn't help but let out a soft groan at the sensation.

Kurt's tie was the first thing to go, tossed in the general direction of the desk chair, and while he was certain he would be reprimanded for improper care of garments later, Blaine didn't care. He set to work on the button of Kurt's collar and let out a bitten-off groan as Kurt pressed up underneath him. He glanced at the boy and saw an uncertain but eager look, as though Kurt were asking, "Did I do that right?"

Rather than bothering with words, he leaned in to lick a stripe along the underside of Kurt's jaw, smirking as he squirmed - and with every wriggly motion came more friction that left them both moaning. He placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss just below Kurt's ear, and when that earned him a gasp he began to lick and suck at the spot. Kurt's fingers clenched against his shoulders as his head fell back against the pillow, exposing an expanse of his neck Blaine hadn't even considered before.

There were just so many places he wanted to touch and taste and experiment with in ways he couldn't fully understand. He was hardly an expert, he didn't know exactly what he was doing or why he thought things like 'sucking on Kurt's neck might be fun', but somehow...maybe he'd picked up more than he thought from pretending to listen to the other guys in the dining hall when they talked about their weekends.

Most of it, though, was from Kurt's reactions. He shouldn't have been surprised how responsive and downright expressive he was - in no small part because they had done things before. Even though he didn't want to think about his actions afterwards, eh couldn't deny that he had seen this side of Kurt before...but that had been so hurried and frantic that he honestly didn't remember quite a bit of it. This was slower and he found himself more able to pay attention to details, like the precise place on Kurt's neck that made his mouth drop open and the incredible sound that poured forth when it did.

He rocked slowly against Kurt as he peeled back the collar of his shirt, moaning against his collarbone at the friction it caused. Kurt's keening whimpers were near-constant, occasionally getting louder and higher and nearing a wail as Blaine explored his neck with his mouth and tongue.

The third button, located mid-chest, was easier to pop open though Blaine wasn't sure whether it was because of practice or positioning, and the fourth easier still. As he tried to kiss his way down, Kurt squirmed and pulled away with a flail. "What's wrong?" he asked. Kurt mumbled something, rolling his eyes, and looking like he wanted to hide. "Kurt-"

"Ticklish," he repeated more loudly. He looked embarrassed about it, more than any person should have been over something so inane, though Blaine did suppose it probably didn't fit with the together image Kurt liked to maintain...and did potentially make him vulnerable if that sort of information fell into the wrong hands at an all-boys' school with a reputation for friendly teasing.

"I won't tell," Blaine replied playfully as he unbuttoned the last button, admiring Kurt's torso as the shirt fell open. He was slim but not scrawny, lithe almost, with a fine dusting of hair over his chest and stomach - not very much at all, really, just enough to not look like a child.

Or like a girl.

Kurt shifted self-consciously under the scrutiny, and Blaine found himself transfixed by the very faint ripple of the muscles under Kurt's skin; the lack of much body fat made it easier to see, even though Kurt hardly looked like the more athletic boys in school, but he was incredibly attractive.

Blaine rocked harder against him, and Kurt cried out softly as he reached down to fumble for the button of Blaine's pants. But as much as he wanted to feel Kurt's hand around him - warm and soft and tight... there was something he wanted more.

Though he couldn't figure out how he knew to want certain things or what would feel good as opposed to just feeling, well, like a dog licking your neck, there was one thing he remembered clearly how he found out about it. It had been during the summer between seventh and eighth grade, and while he couldn't be sure he thought it was probably early evening because his father wasn't home yet but had already left the office. A man called the house in a panic, but because he asked for Mr. Anderson instead of Dr. Anderson and because he sounded so young with his high-pitched voice and awkward phrasing, Edgar had mistakenly assumed the call was for Blaine. Before he could explain the mistake, the man had launched into a lengthy confession detailing what he had done in the past weeks that signaled a horrific backslide into depravity and pleading, begging desperately for help.

And the man had surely needed it. After all, he had described in gritty detail sinking to his knees in front of a desk and taking someone's erection into his mouth and sucking-

He had been disgusted..and terrified because in and amongst the revulsion had been a strong frisson of excitement and curiosity.

He had never understood why the thought made him so excited, what it was about putting something that should be disgusting and dirty into his mouth that made his stomach clench and feel hot all over, but it had invaded his dreams more times than he cared to count, and now that he had Kurt beneath him...

Blaine slipped down, and Kurt lifted his head quickly to stare at him. "Can I try...something?" he asked hesitantly. When Kurt drew in a deep breath and nodded, eyes wide and curious, Blaine unfastened Kurt's trousers and lowered the zipper. Sliding his hand slowly up the front of the pants, he could feel the tenting hardness under his palm and gave a gentle squeeze. Kurt groaned and let his head fall back again. Blaine felt his breath catch as he shifted the waistband of Kurt's underwear down enough to fish out his erection, watching as it popped free.

Last time it had been all fumbling and quick stroking and everything done by feel. Now, staring at it, everything felt so much more real and terrifying.

And like if he didn't do something in the next ten seconds he was going to die.

It was difficult finding a good place to position himself, and Blaine finally settled for lying face-down on the bottom half of the bed with his legs bent at the knees, shins brushing against the footboard. Hurriedly adjusting himself and nudging Kurt's legs apart with his shoulder, he grasped the base of Kurt's cock. It felt heavy in his hand, warm, and he fought the urge to just start pumping for all he was worth. Instead he quickly leaned forward and, trying to remember any details from the phone call that might not have worked their way into his numerous dreams, lowered his mouth onto the tip.

It should have been disgusting. The taste was salty and kind of strange and musky, and there was no way he could get most of it into his mouth - his mouth was already stretching to accommodate the head...but just the feeling of it, the weight against his tongue, the stretch of his lips, the way he could almost feel the pulse of blood just under the skin, made Blaine moan. Kurt gasped and his hips canted up, and Blaine almost choked, pulling back quickly. Undeterred, he splayed his free hand on Kurt's hip and resumed his position.

As it turned out, the man who had tearfully confessed to liking this had been underselling how sexually appealing it was. Shins bracing against the footboard, Blaine rocked his hips forward against the comforter as he explored with his tongue, listening to Kurt mewl and whimper and moan. A tentative suck brought the most amazing sound yet, and Blaine groaned. Kurt's hand flew out to grip the comforter, fist clenching. "I-...Blaine-..." He couldn't bring himself to lift his head, not when it felt this good, and was relieved when the next thing he heard was a whimpered, "More-"

He had no idea what he was doing, but Kurt sure as hell seemed to like it and that was more than hot enough for him. He felt borderline ridiculous, rutting against the bed and trying desperately to get enough friction while one hand held Kurt in place and the other held his hips, moaning and grunting more obscenely than in even his most sexually-charged fantasy, but it was the look on Kurt's face, the way he panted and gasped and squirmed and tried to get more of everything as he clutched the blanket in his white-knuckled fist, that really made this addictive.

When it ended, Blaine thought, he would want to do this again. And again after that. And again after that.

For the first time in his life, that thought didn't stop him cold in his tracks. Instead, he redoubled his efforts and gasped as he felt Kurt's body stiffen before spilling into his mouth. He pulled away quickly, choking and sputtering - the taste was odd but left him moaning anyway as he rocked his hips hard against the mattress once, twice, three times more before his own orgasm hit, soaking his boxers and soiling the inside of his uniform trousers.

There was a long moment of no one speaking and no conscious movement, just heavy breathing and soft sighs as the haze of endorphins began to dissipate. "Okay?" Kurt asked quietly at last, breathless, looking up at Blaine like he half expected him to bolt naked from his own dorm room and streak down the hall in a blind panic.

In truth, Blaine didn't know how he was supposed to feel. On one hand, obviously the physical aspect had been incredibly pleasurable, but that fact alone had never let him feel good before and he wasn't sure that could start now. On the other, the intense intimacy of the entire thing was nearly overwhelming. He hadn't expected that; he hadn't expected this part, where he wanted to curl himself around Kurt and hold him as tightly as possible. He had never thought he would feel as though Kurt suddenly knew extra secrets about him even though, strictly speaking, no new information had been revealed.

But mostly...

He wasn't sure how to go from being absolutely certain that something was wrong for feeling good, to believing that this sort of pleasure was completely natural and good; how to go from seeing the entire thing as blind hedonism, which would bring nothing but shame, downfall, heartache, disease, and misery...to letting it be cast in the sort of warm glow that seemed to light Kurt's face from within. Kurt's studies felt convincing, but so had everything else. So had everything he'd been taught for so long, and even if he wanted to believe it, was that maybe just his own pathetic attempts at justifying everything so he wouldn't have to acknowledge how sick he was?

He remembered the question Kurt had asked him from the bathroom floor the night he'd come over, rainsoaked, to beg for help: did it feel wrong because it felt unnatural, or did it feel wrong because other people said it should?

Did this feel bad because it actually was, or because men like his father had told him his entire life to avoid it?

"Blaine?"

Kurt's voice was soft but concerned, and when he looked up to meet Kurt's eyes he looked concerned - eyes narrowed as he tried to read him, head tilted just so. In the dim light his skin seemed to almost glow, brown hair splayed across the pillow carelessly, clothes half-off and askew, looking debauched but at the same time...

...so beautiful.

He thought back to the way Kurt had looked during: straining, bucking, whimpering and moaning and clinging to him because it felt too good. Even now, he looked tired and...contented. Happy. Sated, as though there was nothing else he needed to search for as long as they could stay right here, in this bed, for a very long time.

If the worst thing he had done in all of it was hurting this boy when he ran away, if that was his most abhorrent and disgusting act...then maybe earlier had been the best. The most true.

The most beautiful.

Because how could making someone as amazing as Kurt feel that good ever be wrong? Bringing pleasure to someone so amazing and loving and moral and strong...that could only be good, right?

"Yeah?" he asked quietly, his voice sounding dry and rough to his ears.

"Are you okay?" Kurt glanced from him to the door, and he could tell what Kurt was wondering: Are you leaving now? Are you going to throw me out so you can deny everything we did? Are you going to hate me for this?

Will you still love me tomorrow?

He wanted to answer strongly in the affirmative, but that would be a lie so he answered as honestly as he could. "I think so."

It was the closest to okay he had ever been about the issue, and he had a feeling it was going to continue to improve. Evil thoughts that brought about evil actions were wrong, but truly evil thoughts could never bring about something so good. That really did mean Kurt had to be right. The song had to be right.

They were all right.

"Should I go?" Kurt tried to keep his voice noncommittal, but Blaine could see beyond that.

"Please stay?" Blaine asked quietly. Kurt nodded and didn't move from the bed, and Blaine found himself wanting to thank him for not leaving. For being patient when he had every right not to be. For being amazing. For loving him.

They hadn't said it, but he knew.

He moved up the bed and laid down beside Kurt, wrapping his arms around him. Kurt rolled onto his side, pressing back against Blaine's chest. He folded his arms over Blaine's as though trying to keep him in place, and Blaine smiled faintly. "I'm not going anywhere," he stated quietly.

For once, he didn't even want to.