On a Friday evening, I’m lying on the floor on a blanket Kurt usually naps under, enjoying the cool breeze from the window. It would be pleasant, but there is a tall person straddling my hips and taking close-ups of my face as I attempt to nap.

“Kurt, come on. I’m trying to sleep here,” I grumble, as he snaps another picture. He chuckles and takes another. “Kurt...” I warn, opening one eye to glare at him.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.” Snap!

“Ugh... There is no way I look attractive or ‘cute’--” I make quotes in the air with my fingers and he takes another picture “--right now. My test today was ridiculous and I barely had the brain power to bike here.”

He smirks as he pauses to adjust a setting on his camera. “Ever notice how dumb people tend to be really good-looking and the smart ones just look stressed?”

“I don’t know how to answer that without insulting myself.” My hand slides up his thigh, skirting under the edge of his shorts. He moves his camera away from his face and leans down to kiss me lightly on the lips.

Click!

“Kurt!” I stare up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Calm down. You know I develop my own film. No one but us will ever see it.” He pulls my shirt up and I remove it completely. “Mmm... I might just do an entire section of this series on your collar bone... Or your sternum. Or those divots on your stomach. Jeez, Blaine...” He snaps a few more pictures and I sigh, finally giving in. There’s no arguing with him when he’s like this.

I put my hands behind my head and close my eyes again trying to ignore how his hips move against mine as he adjusts for different angles. He rests the camera on my stomach and I hear another click of the shutter closing. I take a deep breath and he does the same.

“Are you really taking pictures up my nose?” I ask.

He chuckles and I feel his lips on my stomach. When did he move off my hips? “I’m not, I’m taking photos of your chin and chest.”

I feel him settle between my legs, his chin digging into my hipbone and the camera still on my stomach. His nimble fingers are running along the edge of my pants. We’ve progressed this far. He’s been able to touch me without me having a complete panic attack out of fear of screwing it up some how. I still haven’t... I have yet to reciprocate but he’s been unbelievably patient and well. He takes a lot of showers.

His hands come to fly and I reach down to move the camera from my stomach.

“No, leave it,” he says, shimmying my pants and briefs off. He licks his palm and takes my half-hard cock in his hand, pumping it slowly. I return the camera to my stomach and leave my hands by my sides. “I’m going to try something new and I want to photograph your reaction to it.”

I start to argue with him but then I feel something hot and wet closing around my cock and I can’t help but moan. I hear the shutter close again but I’m too... enthralled by what is happening to do anything. I glance down and just as I do, he snaps another picture but I can see him. His lips stretched around me, head bobbing up and down slowly. Every now and then I can see a bit of his tongue and it makes my breath stop. His elbows are on either side of my hips and his hands are operating the camera, which blocks most of my view.

“Kurt... I--Good God!” I whimper, writhing beneath him. “That feels so--” I fall silent as his tongue swirls over my tip before sliding back down. Kurt moans, that must be what it is, and it sends a shiver up my body. He sinks his mouth further and further down until his nose is pressed against my lower abdomen. I can feel his throat opening, his tongue massaging me and I can’t help it. With a loud cry and a hurry of clicks, I come down Kurt’s throat, gripping the blanket it in my hands and my head thrown back.

I finish so quickly that I'm embarrassed but not for long. Kurt lays beside me, his camera moved to the floor, and wraps his arms around me, his head on my chest.� I don’t care that I’m naked or that Kurt is still fully clothed. I don’t care that he took pictures of that intimate moment.

We haven’t discussed what we are or what are future is because we both know that it is a pointless conversation. At some point, this will have to end. I’ll have to live the life my parents want for me and Kurt will find someone new. But for now, it’s just us, lying on the floor in the summer heat, blissfully... happy. I haven’t been happy in a long time. Maybe ever.

"Kurt," I breathe, kissing his temples.

“So, I’m guessing you liked that,” he chuckles, sighing sleepily.

“I did. Sorry, I didn’t--”

He chuckles again, pressing a finger to my lips to silence me. “Shh, Blaine. Don’t apologize.” He settles back on my chest. “It’s not like I’m never going to do that again.”

I grin at the ceiling, mentally celebrating and trying to recall what he had done so that I could try it on him at some point.

"So, my friend is having a gallery opening tomorrow. Want to go with me?" �Our fingertips are pressed together and I am studying the differences between our hands. Kurt's fingers are long and elegant while mine are short and sturdy. �He has a small scar on his index finger on his right hand and his nails are short and smooth.�

"Like as a--a date?" I ask. This is new. We don't date. We aren’t dating. �Our relationship or arrangement or whatever isn't built around dates. The most we've done outside of this apartment was go to the market when Kurt's refrigerator broke while he was away shooting a wedding for a few days and all his food had spoiled. Not exactly a romantic first date.�

"I mean, to us it would be, I guess. And some of my friends would know." �

"Why would they know?" I ask, suddenly terrified that he's told his friends about me. �You never know who knows who and it could easily get back to my parents if we aren't careful.�

"Because they know about me, Blaine. I haven't told anyone about us, if that's what you're worried about." �His voice tells me he understands but I can tell he's still hurt that he has to be hidden away. �I wish he didn't. �"I'm not dumb. But I trust these people. Some of them are like us. �Some aren't but realize that who I fuck isn't any of their business."

I consider this for a moment. If I had things my way, I'd disappear into Manhattan as soon as I pass the bar exam, reemerging years later with the family and career my parents have always wanted for me but with a man by my side. Whenever I've daydreamed about this, the man has always been sort of faceless. Now, he had soft brown hair, pale skin and impossibly blue eyes. �I want to dismiss this vision as my virgin clingy-ness but it still gnaws at me. �Unfortunately, who I fuck, as Kurt so eloquently put it, matters to some people.�

Still, it would be nice to go somewhere with Kurt and be his date. Not have to pretend to be something that I’m not. To be affectionate in public like other couples are without fear.

"I want to go. �It'd be nice to meet some of your friends."

Kurt giggles and turns to press a kiss to my chest, lingering to swirl his tongue over my nipple. �My breath hitches as I feel a stirring in my gut. He shifts so his arm is across my chest and his face is leaning against it. He stares at my face and hums softly.

“What?” I ask, my hand caressing his hair.

He kisses my chest again before getting up and going to the refrigerator pulling out a fresh roll of film. “Don’t move a muscle. Your post-orgasm face is almost as pretty as your orgasm face.”