CHAPTER NINE

"You cant—" I start, trying to defend myself against his win, but Blaine pulls me from the ground. Hes silent as he forces me against the wall. I try to push back and argue, but he pushes his fingers against my lips to silence me.

As I reach up to grab his shirt, I end up pulling him closer rather than pushing him away like I had originally intended. I want to deny the fact that he bested me, but I realize I dont have it in me to refuse him and his wicked plan.

Its so dark in the dungeon that Im blinded by its blackness, but my other senses seem to be overly sensitive. The breath that sweeps across my face tickles my skin with delight and pulsing hunger. He brushes his cheek against mine and the granular feeling of his stubble makes me gasp aloud as the light scratching only further sets my skin on fire. The sound of his breath against my ear as he takes the lobe into his mouth makes me shudder and moan with pleasure. Pleasure surges through my body, and I start to whimper against his fingers, but he tightens his grip on my mouth and pushes me harder against the wall.

His free hand slips beneath my shirt and glides across my stomach, up toward my chest. His touch sends waves of heat across my skin, my core throbs in anticipation. His fingers slide beneath the bottom edge of my shirt, bringing my chest into contact with the cool air. I moan, but once more he tightens his hand across my lips, this time so much it hurts.

Im so flustered that it takes me a moment to wrestle it over my head, and before I can throw it aside, Blaine grabs it from my hand.

"What are—"

He cuts me off by shoving the shirt in my mouth. I nearly choke on the fabric, shocked by the force of the movement, but I dont fight him.

He wants me to be silent, I realize. Here we are, with no speech and no sight—were like two strangers coming together in the darkness.

That realization excites me more than I want to admit.

I clamp my teeth down on the makeshift gag and reach around him, slipping my hands beneath the back of his shirt. I trail my nails across his skin as I move upward, hoping to remind him of our earlier encounter, and Im rewarded when a tremor passes beneath my touch.

And then suddenly he grabs me by the elbows and yanks my hands away from him. He captures both my wrists in one hand, and before I can twist away from him I hear the telltale metallic clink of his belt buckle. I playfully struggle, but his grip on me is firm. When he manages to free his belt, he brings it up and wraps it around my wrists, so tightly that the leather edges are digging into my skin. Then he jerks my bound hands upward, pinning them to the wall above my head.

I writhe against him, and he responds by grinding against me, hard. The button of his fly digs into my stomach with the way that Im leaning back so he feels taller than me, and his arousal presses against my leg, mere millimeters away from touching my growing length. He moves only enough to allow his free hand to slip between us and undo the button on my own pants. He undoes my zipper in one swift motion, and then he jerks my jeans down over my hips and pushes them toward the floor.

His leg forces my knees apart and my cock lightly grazes a patch of his skin, and I step out of my pants as I obey his silent command. I strain against his hands, wanting to grab him and feel his hot skin beneath my fingers, but he wont let me move.

Only when I stop wriggling does he release the hand on my waist. He grinds against me once more before leaning back just enough to reach for his own pants. Theres a slight crackle as he pulls something from his pocket—a condom, Im guessing—and then the rustle of fabric as he wrestles his way out of his pants. When he presses against me again, I can feel the smooth hard length of him against my own heated skin.

I want to kiss him, but my lips are frozen around the gag. He doesnt seem particularly inconvenienced by this. His own mouth moves past mine, brushing against my cheek on his way to my ear. He buries his nose in my hair and pulls my earlobe once more between his lips. I twist beneath his grasp. His grip on my wrists tightens as he shifts again, and even though its painful, I find myself fighting back a cry of pleasure.

I dont know how much longer I can bear this. I buck my hips, urging him to meet me, and quickly, but he responds by pushing me forcibly back against the wall. The message is clear: hes in charge here. That was the prize, wasnt it? Im truly at his mercy.

Maybe I should be ashamed at the reaction that realization sends through me, but Im not.

When Ive stilled again, Blaine reaches out for my rigid cock and pulls my legs apart while tugging forcefully, grunting against my ear with his breath tickling the small hairs at my neck. I can feel that his hand is moist from something, and I dont really want to think about where the wetness came from, but he firmly slathers it between my legs and I cant help but cry out both in frustration and confusion. Finally a finger slathers the smallest bit of liquid over my hole and I practically quiver with thankfulness.

He releases my cock and aligns himself peculiarly, keeping my back against the wall and shifting himself slightly lower than his already shorter stature. The reason behind his stance is answered quickly as his cock slides between my thighs toward my ass and my dick throbs as the smooth skin of his shaft brushes against my ass cheeks. Another couple of touches would send me right over the edge without any real friction or pulling on my neglected cock, but Blaine doesnt seem interested in gentle erotic caresses. His length nudges roughly at my ass cheeks, seeking my hole, but not getting close enough to satisfy my needs but purely working toward his own end. And then he pauses, his head just beside my opening, and I throb again in need as I feel myself start to stretch around him.

Fuck me, I want to scream. Ram yourself inside of me.

But he moves with such excruciating slowness that Im afraid Ill burst before Im completely full. He guides himself slowly deeper, and when I shift to try and hurry his progress, he pushes me against the wall again, holding me immobile.

He makes it only about halfway inside of me before he stops. Its all I can do not to whimper in tortured frustration when he begins to draw out of me again. Hes doing this intentionally. Hes driving me mad on purpose. The angle is peculiar as my hips are jutting from the wall awkwardly as its the only part of me thats able to bend at this point, but I can tell hes doing it to ensure that hes the one driving us both closer to our peaks.

He withdraws from me completely, then pauses for several long, excruciating seconds. Its the encounter in the gallery all over again—hes getting off on my desperation.

He begins to move into me again. My fingers curl into fists and then uncurl again as he pushes slowly in my ass. Every moment is agony, yet Ive never been so aware of my body before. Every time Blaine shifts, a thousand new nerve endings respond. Im intensely aware of every adjustment my body makes for his, every tremor of my flesh, every firm, hot inch of his arousal.

Im half-delirious when he stops and withdraws the second time. I nearly sob in desperation, but Im afraid that if I dont remain silent—if I refuse to play by his rules—hell leave me in this horrible state forever. If he releases me now, if he leaves me empty and unfulfilled this time, then Ill dissolve into a puddle at his feet.

I cant take it anymore. I spit out the gag and twist my head, capturing his ear in my teeth before he has the chance to move away. I suck the lobe into my mouth, returning the bite he gave me earlier.

Now its his turn to fight down a growl of pleasure. He tries to push me away from him again, but I only clamp down harder - both with my teeth and within the muscle walls of my ass. The hand that doesnt hold my wrists reaches around and grabs my ass, half lifting me even as he grinds against me once more and shoving my legs apart even further, flinging them to the side as if they serve no purpose for him at the current moment.

Suddenly he yanks me down onto his length so hard and so fast that my teeth break the skin of his ear. This time he doesnt manage to stifle the sound that rises in his throat, but he doesnt seem to care anymore. For a moment we both freeze, locked around each other, while the metallic tang of his blood fills my mouth and my other opening throbs around the fullness of his cock. I slowly loosen my jaw and lean my head back against the wall, reveling in the mind-numbing sensations pulsating from my core.

And then he begins to move.

No longer with tortuous slowness, thank God, but with steady, eager strokes. He thrusts into me, over and over again, while I rock against him as much as our position allows.

His fingers dig into the underside of my thigh as he lifts my leg, allowing for deeper access. I strain against the belt around my wrists, against the hand that still keeps them pinned against the wall. I want to tear at his hair. I want to suck on his lips and tongue. I want to dig my nails into his back and leave new scratches next to the marks from this afternoon. But I cant move. Im completely at his power, subject to his lust.

Its the thrill of that thought that sends me completely over the edge with only the slightest rub of my cock against his firm body. My entire body convulses, and its only his strong arms around me that keep me from collapsing at his feet as the orgasm sweeps through me. My teeth clamp down on my bottom lip as I struggle to keep from crying out.

Blaine keeps moving, even when I fall limply against him. I turn my face and close my teeth around a bit of skin at his neck, nipping at him as I squeeze the muscles in my ass once more, tightening myself around him.

He lets out an unrestrained grunt, nearly dropping me as he shudders in release. I pull my teeth away from his skin and slide my leg off his hip, only just managing to regain my feet before he slumps forward against me and the wall.

For a moment, neither of us stirs. His mouth is against my ear, his warm breath stirring my hair at the base of my neck. Im warm from the inside out, and while a part of me never wants to move, the other, more practical side of me remembers were standing in a cold, empty room in his basement.

I shift from beneath him and reach down to collect my jeans, remembering too late that my wrists are still bound. I strain against the belt, trying to twist myself free, but in the end Blaine has to untie me himself.

Its too dark to see much, but I feel his eyes on me all the same as I fumble again for my pants. My wrists are throbbing from their confinement, but I dont let that on to him. There are a dozen feelings rushing through me right now, and Im not sure which ones to acknowledge. Part of me is still giddy from passion, while the other half cant allow me to forget about why we ended up like this in the first place—I lost. Once more Blaine won our bet, and theres little chance hell give me yet another opportunity to win the money for the Center. Im back where I started.

Blaine seems far less confused by all of this. "Theres no need to put your clothes back on," he says. I yank up my zipper, angry at the hungry way my body responds to his words, even now.

"Youve had your prize," I respond.

"We agreed youd be mine for the night," he says, his voice low and husky. "And Im afraid, Mr. Hummel, were just getting started." He reaches out and brushes a finger down my arm. I shiver at the contact and curse myself again for falling so easily for his charms. This is ridiculous. Im supposed to hate this man. I do hate this man. Hes poised to destroy everything I love. So how is it that, time and again, he can say a simple word, or touch me just so, and make me forget everything but the way the blood is rushing through my veins?

Im a modern, sensible man. Ive allowed myself to be swayed by a man before—with Adam—and Im not going to let that happen again. So why am I having such trouble now? Why do I still feel like throwing myself in his arms and letting him take me again?

If Id managed a moment longer in our game, things would be different. If Id secured the money for the Center, then I could fall into his embrace without this guilt weighing down on my shoulders. Instead, it feels like every surge of pleasure I feel, every sigh he draws from my lips, is a betrayal of the Center and my dad and everything weve ever worked for.

Its all the fault of my fucking phone.

I jam my hand into my pocket and whip out my cell, determined to see who cost me everything. I want to cry foul, to call for a rematch, but even if I thought Blaine would oblige me, I know its too late. I didnt fight him when he pressed me up against the wall and had his way with me. I as good as accepted defeat.

I pull up my missed calls list. The blue light of the screen seems unnaturally bright now, but I dont even blink as I gaze down at the name.

Surprise, surprise. "Dipshit" continues to ruin my life. I knew asking him to help would come back to bite me in the ass.

"Kurt?" Blaine reaches out and touches me again, this time along my exposed collarbone. "Is something wrong?"

Only that my ex is insane and wont leave me alone. I shouldnt have asked Adam for a favor. I should have listened to my gut. But desperation makes people do crazy things.

"Everythings fine," I say, sliding the phone back into my pocket. Ill deal with Adam later.

"It doesnt seem fine," Blaine says. If I didnt know any better, Id almost say there was genuine concern in his voice. But that obviously cant be the case; I mean nothing to him other than an attractive man that he can bed that will whet his appetite rather than having his hand do the job.

"Its nothing you should concern yourself with." I reach down and attempt to find my shirt that had been abandoned as Blaine was claiming his booty - pun definitely intended. "I dont know about you, but Im not exactly willing to spend the night down here. Its dark, damp and nothing nearly as nice as my basement bedroom I had in high school."

"I suppose we could move this party into an actual bed," he notions, slight jest in his tone though he sighs as he pulls his pants on and buckles his belt. If hes upset by my sudden emotional disconnection from him, he doesnt allude to his frustration in the slightest. "There are a few things Im eager to show you."

Something in the way in which he phrases it stirs me; hes such an intentional person and I know that his meaning is laced with innuendo. I cant afford to continue to be affected by him, it will only lead to frustration and further confusion in the end.

Blaines touch pulls me from my thoughts and he traces my back and holds his hand gently at the base of my spine. "Come on," he says with the somewhat saccharine that continues to throw me off base. "Lets head upstairs. I can have Martin bring something to us in bed."

I want to refuse him - I should refuse him. But it seems like Ive lost the battle and like the war as well. I know Im at his mercy and despite my protestations, hes going to win. Besides, its not like I can sink much lower; Ive lost the Center for Will and myself and I have nothing left to lose. I have no shreds of dignity, no chance to win, and absolutely no hope.

When Blaine leans over and slips his tongue in my ear, I know that I literally have no chance of winning as my cock seems to listen to his every move despite my mind telling it otherwise.

An hour later, I lie naked in Blaines bed.

Blaine himself stands next to a cart of food that Martin brought up a little while ago. I cant decide where to look: at the gorgeous plates of food hes revealing one by one or the equally gorgeous vision of his well-muscled body. In this light, his tanned skin is a pale bronze, and his hair looks even darker— almost black. The shadows play across his pecs and abs in a way that highlights every groove, every firm round edge of muscle beneath his skin. I finally have the chance to notice the dusting of hair on his chest, and the way his waist narrows from his broad shoulders into a perfect V. By my estimation, hes the perfect specimen of a man—why no ones tried to carve a copy of this one out of marble yet, I cant guess.

"Like what you see?"

I glance up to find Blaine smiling at me with amusement. I sit up quickly on the bed, embarrassed to be caught staring. "Im only eager for the food," I say, but I know he knows better, even if the heat on my cheeks doesnt give me away.

Blaine sets down the dish hes holding and walks over to the bed. "Theres nothing to be embarrassed about," he says. His fingers slip beneath my hair and he tilts my head back to look at him. Our eyes lock, and he holds my gaze as his thumb drifts up and down the column of my throat. "Theres nothing wrong with looking," he tells me. "Ive spent the better part of these past few days looking at you."

I feel like I should say something, but I cant find the words. "Youre beautiful, Kurt. An Adonis. Does it bother you that I want to admire your body?" Not at all, truth be told. But Ive never had a guy come out and ask me a question like that so bluntly before.

"It doesnt bother me," I manage. The corner of Blaines mouth twists up, but its no longer amusement that marks his features—rather something ravenous and wicked. He lowers me gently onto my back on the bed and drags the comforter away from my body.

His eyes dance over my skin, starting with my neck and moving all the way down to my toes. His gaze is so intense that I swear I can almost feel the heat of that smolder on my skin. Theres a trail of tingling nerves down the length of my body, and he hasnt even touched me yet.

When he does touch me, just above the collarbone, its like my flesh jumps to meet him. Still, I remain perfectly motionless as his finger brushes back and forth.

"At first," he says softly, "I thought your neck was the loveliest part of your body." His mouth curls lazily. "It was back at that fundraiser you threw for your organization. You wore this black suit with the top two buttons undone. I remember thinking how long and graceful your neck looked." I must make a face because his eyebrow quirks up. "What? Dont believe me?"

"You remember what I wore to Arts & Hearts?"

"Of course."

"But you looked so bored."

He laughs. "Id just stepped off a flight from Rome. I was fighting a jet lag headache from hell. Anyway," he says, tracing my lower lip with his fingers, "how could I be bored when I got to watch you all night?"

I want to believe him, but I have a feeling hes just feeding me a line. "Even if youre telling the truth about that," I say. "I dont believe for a minute that you were checking out my neck, of all things. Men dont think that way. The first things men notice are your cock or your ass, depending on which way youre facing."

He chuckles and runs his fingers across the curve of my shoulder. "Im not going to dispute what other men may or may not admire first. But I remember you very clearly, Mr. Hummel. As I said, you were wearing a black suit. Your neck was exposed. No tie or anything." He reaches up and weaves his hand in my hair. "Your hair was done and expertly laid in place, but one tendril managed to escape and fall along here." He twists a section of my hair at my forehead around his finger and lays it against my hairline, the tip of the hair resting toward my eyes. I immediately regretted not getting a haircut this week since my hair was far longer than I normally kept it and this time without product made me feel on edge.

But despite my too-long hair and lack of product, I cant help but notice my heart is fluttering in my chest. I reach up and grab the section of hair from his hand and comb it back to put it with the rest. The passionate, dominant Blaine I can handle—the one who leaves bruises on my skin and shoves my shirt into my mouth to keep me silent—but I dont know how to deal with this gentler version of him. Yes, I wore a black suit to the Arts & Hearts fundraiser with my neck exposed; I couldnt decide on a tie so I just decided to go without. I always do my hair, and Im not surprised to hear that a tendril escaped with the hustle and bustle of the evening, but I am surprised that he noticed. That he remembers, even now.

"Why didnt you say anything then?"

"I promised my father Id behave myself," he replies, "and I was afraid your man-friend would start a fight if I stole you away."

My man-friend? Oh, of course—I was still with Adam at the time. Im glad Blaine had the sense to stay away. As controlling as my ex was at the end, he would definitely have caused a scene if he thought another man was coming on to me.

"Is he the one whos been calling you?" Blaine says, reading into my silence.

"Its long over, if thats what youre wondering," I assure him. "But I dont want to talk about him. I want you to continue explaining how you didnt notice my ass."

He laughs. "Ill admit," he continues, drawing his finger down my body, "that I noticed your ass, too." To emphasize his point, he curls a hand around my ass, filling his palm. "So soft, so round, so perfect..." He brushes his thumb across the tender skin along the crack.

He gives me another one of his grins and then continues his voyage around my body. His hands move up across my skin slowly, delicately, as if Im a precious, breakable thing that might shatter at his touch. He traces each of my ribs in turn, as if has all the time in the world to explore my body, not just this night Ive promised him.

"And your arms," he says, taking me by the wrist and lifting my arm from the sheets. "Such long, lovely, muscular arms, with perfect hands and fingers." He raises my fingers to his lips and kisses them one by one.

"They look so innocent," he continues, "but I know very well what pleasure and what pain they can cause." He brings my fingers around to his back, placing them on the scratch marks I made this morning. Was that only this morning? It feels like a lifetime ago.

I look at Blaine. How many days have I been here now? Two? Three? Theyre all running together. I hardly know this man, and what I do know isnt particularly good, but I feel something when I look at him, when he looks at me—its strange. Theres something, some understanding, some connection that I dont think either of us could put a name to, even if we tried.

"And your legs," he says, sliding further down my body. He takes a single finger and traces me, light as a feather, from hip to ankle, and then back up again. It tickles, but I dont feel the urge to laugh. I feel like a blade of grass shaking and helpless beneath the wind. "Long and thin yet surprisingly muscular and they look incredible in skinny jeans."

Blaine leans down and kisses my toes, one by one, as he kissed my fingers. "Every inch of you is beautiful." I close my eyes for a moment, letting his words wash over me, but I dont let myself enjoy them too long.

"Thats a pretty line," I say, eyes still closed. "But you dont have to try so hard. Im already at your mercy." He doesnt say anything for a moment.

"Its not a line," he offers finally. His hand sweeps over my throat once more. "Do you think Im exaggerating?"

I peer at him through my lashes. "Maybe. Maybe not. I think youre a man whos had a lot of practice charming men into bed with him." My bluntness seems to surprise him for the briefest of moments.

"Ive been with other men, of course. But Im here with you now, and every word I speak is the truth."

I raise my eyebrow. I dont think Im unattractive, by any means—in fact, Ive always been a little proud of my looks—but I know better than to trust the compliments of a silver-tongued billionaire playboy, especially one whos admitted to romancing actors and models.

"You hardly know me," I say.

"And that means I cant think youre beautiful?" I suppose it doesnt. "Besides, its not fair to compare yourself to any other men anyway." His thumb roams lazily along the line of my jaw. "Ive never had a man force his way onto my property before, and Ive never had to tackle one in the mud."

I roll my eyes, but he catches me by the chin and forces me to look up at him. "And Ive certainly never had so much fun playing hide and seek with one. Youre something else completely."

My neck and cheeks go hot at his words, but he still has me by the chin and I cant look away. "Youre something else yourself," I manage after a moment.

His eyes darken at my words. "Oh?"

Where do I begin? Hes the most infuriating man Ive ever met—and the sexiest. In any given moment I cant decide whether I want to scream at him or stick my tongue in his mouth. I reach up and place my hands on his bare skin. Hes propped on his arms, leaning over me, and all the muscles of his chest are firm, contracted. I slide my hands down his belly, reveling in the hardness of his body.

Then, without warning, I give him a shove. He topples off me, landing on his back beside me, and before he can recover Ive sprung up and reversed our positions. Now Im leaning over him and hes helpless beneath me.

"You dont always get to be the one in control." I gaze down the length of him, taking in every delicious inch of his body. "I think its my turn to explore you."

The hunger on his face is unmistakable, but he makes no move to stop me as I sidle up his body and place my finger on his collarbone, exactly where he began his inspection of me.

He truly is spectacular. Im getting turned on already, and I havent even moved past the PG section of his body. His skin is soft and warm beneath my touch, and I brush the pads of my fingers lightly down his chest. I glance up at his face, and I find him staring down at me, his eyes dark and half-lidded. His breathing is heavy.

I continue my exploration down over his ribs, across his stomach. I want to feel every muscle, to know the power of his body beneath my fingers. This body could hold me down; take me again and again until I begged for mercy.

His arms come next, and his warm hands. I close his fingers in my own, marveling at the calluses I find: stories, each one. Where did this rough patch on his thumb come from? How did he earn this mark on his palm? Theyre the hands of a man whos done things.

It only reminds me how little I know about this man in front of me. What was he doing, a week ago from now? A year? Five? He has a life outside his business with the Center. A life outside his interactions with me.

Theres another mark on his left hand. A red streak on his palm. "What is it?" he asks when he notices me lingering.

I flip over his hand and trace the scar with my finger. "Whats this from?"

He gives a chuckle and twists his hand slightly in my grasp, stretching the scar and making it stand out all the more against his golden skin. "I was nineteen when I got that. I was an idiot. Got a little over-zealous trying to fix the rudder on our boat." He flexes his fingers. "My father said I was trying too hard to impress my date."

"I didnt realize you had a boat." Not that I should be surprised. He probably inherited an entire fleet. My mind automatically tries to calculate the value of a boat compared to the size of his fathers pledge, but I suppress the thought. I dont want to think about it.

"Not anymore," Blaine replies to my question, suddenly somber. "I sold it a couple of months ago."

Oh. A "couple of months" means he probably got rid of it shortly after his father died. Maybe he thought hed never use it himself, or maybe it reminded him too much of his dad. I dont know what to say. I didnt mean to bring up memories of his father, especially not while were here in bed together. His eyes are distant, sad, and I reach down and touch him gently on the cheek.

His gaze snaps to me, and the melancholy disappears as quickly as it appeared. In its place is something akin to annoyance. He bats my hand away. "Im fine."

I sit back, startled at his sudden shift in mood. "You dont seem fine," I say carefully.

"Dont start that." He twists away from me and throws his legs over the side of the bed. He pauses for a moment—just long enough to sweep his hand across his face—then rises and goes back to the cart of food.

I remain frozen, stunned. I was only trying to offer my compassion, but if he doesnt want it, then fine. I wont pretend to give a damn. I force myself to unclench my fists and sit back on the bed. Im not his boyfriend. Im not even his friend. We even said it out in my car—after this weekend, well probably never see each other again. Theres no reason for me to get worked up over his moods or try to help him with his daddy issues.

Still, I cant help but feel saddened at the pain hes clearly suppressing. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he resumes the task of laying out the food. His shoulders are stiff, his normally sensual mouth drawn in a hard line. I cant read the expression in his dark eyes, but he looks like hes about to explode with some dark emotion.

I sigh and close my eyes. Who am I to judge how someone deals with the loss of their father? Id be a mess, too.

I know better than to raise the issue with him again, but I dont think its a good idea to let him stew on his feelings, either.

"What did Martin send?" I say pleasantly. Its a risk. For a moment he doesnt respond, and I wonder if I crossed the line, but then he lets out a slow breath.

"Oysters," he says casually. "And pasta in a light cream sauce." He moves the trays over to a small table set against the wall. "I hope youre hungry?"

"Starving."

When he looks up at me again, all hints of his previous surliness are gone. Instead he smiles at me, and the expression makes my insides twist. "Good." He holds out his hand. "Come on. Youll need your energy if youre going to survive the night ahead of you."

I dont believe for a minute hes forgotten all his emotions of a moment ago, but if he wants to pretend that hes not hurting, then fine. Ill play along. Its not like Im not suppressing my own tumultuous feelings about Blaines role in the current state of the Brooklyn Center. No, tonight isnt about delving into our emotions. Its about forgetting about the troubles of the outside world and focusing on the joys our bodies can bring each other.

And honestly? One look at the wicked expression on Blaines face, and Im perfectly okay with that.

If I thought Blaine was magnificent before, it doesnt take long before Im convinced hes a genuine sex god. A couple of hours after dinner, we lie tangled among the rumpled sheets, sticky with sweat and breathless from our exertions.

"Wow," I whisper into the darkness.

Blaine chuckles and pulls me closer to him. My arm rests across his chest, my leg across his thighs. I feel his lips press against the top of my head as I shuffle down his body. "Im glad you enjoyed yourself," he murmurs against my hair. He runs his hand up my arm.

I give a contented sigh. My entire body aches. Blaine bent me into positions Ive never even imagined before, let alone attempted, and my arms and legs feel like jelly. He brought me to the peak of ecstasy and back again, and my flesh still quivers at the memory.

"Youre a feisty thing," he tells me. "Anyone who sees my back will think I was attacked by an animal." I start to pull away, embarrassed, but he laughs and grabs me closer again. "Thats a good thing. I like a man whos not afraid to get wild, and you, sweet Kurt, are the wildest one Ive ever met."

Now its my turn to laugh, and he grabs me and kisses me. I draw him closer. Maybe this is just sex. And maybe I dont really know him that well. But theres a part of me, deep down, that knows Ive glimpsed a deeper side of him, however briefly, and I know Ive exposed a bit of myself to him, too.

And that terrifies me. "Go to sleep," he says, and kisses me again. "I plan to wake you again in an hour."

I bite my lip, and he gives a low chuckle and closes his eyes. In minutes hes asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath my arm. Im exhausted, too, but I know slumber wont come for me anytime soon. Ive got too much on my mind.

I wait for a few more moments, just to make sure hes completely out, before I slowly ease my way out of his arms. Theres just something too... intimate about lying entwined while we sleep. This is just sex. Just a few crazy days of indulging some wild lust. After I leave this place, Ill never have a reason to contact Blaine ever again, and he has no reason to contact me either. I need to remember that.

I climb out of bed and fumble around in the darkness for my jeans. I finally find them in a rumpled pile at the foot of the bed, and I reach in the pocket and pull out my phone.

My heart almost stops when I see the number of missed calls. I thought I heard my ringtone go off a couple of hours ago, but Blaine and I were a little preoccupied at the time. Now I wonder how I managed to miss it ringing eight times over the course of the evening.

All of the calls are from Adam.

I panic. Has something happened at the Center? Or to Will? I click into voicemail and hold my breath as it connects.

"You have eight new messages," the automated voice tells me.

"Hey, Kurt," Adams message begins. He sounds perfectly calm. "Just wanted to check in, since you havent returned my last couple of calls. I talked to your boss, and he says youre stuck in Manhattan because of the weather and the street youre on or something. Im worried about you. Give me a call, okay?"

In the next one hes starting to sound a little agitated.

"Hey, Kurt, its me. I havent heard from you. I just want to make sure youre okay. Will you call me and let me know where you are? I have the Jeep, remember? I can probably manage the roads if your car cant make it. But I need to know where you are. Nows not the time to be stubborn. You asked for my help with the Center. Im not going to let you shut me out again. Call me back."

With each subsequent message I can tell hes getting progressively more frustrated, and by the sixth hes starting to sound livid.

"Dammit, Kurt, dont leave me hanging," he says. "I know youre up to something. I dont know what youre trying to pull, but this is ridiculous. Where the hell are you?"

But its the next one that really ticks me off. "What the fuck is going on? Fuck this! Im not your fucking puppet! You cant just expect me to do you favors and then fucking blow me off. I deserve some basic fucking respect. Excuse me for giving a fuck."

It makes me so angry that I almost dont listen to the final message, but it starts before I can hang up.

"Look, Kurt, Im sorry," Adam says. He sounds defeated. "You just drive me crazy, you know that? Call me, please. Please. I promise Ill do what I can for the Center. Just call me and tell me what youre doing. I know you, Kurt. You get these crazy ideas in your head sometimes. I just want to make sure youre safe." Theres a long pause, and then he sighs deeply. "Please, Kurt. I miss you. I still—"

I hang up before I can hear the rest and throw the phone down on the carpet. Im so upset that Im shaking. What the hell does he think hes doing, blowing up my phone like that? Were not together anymore. Im not obligated to answer his calls, and Im certainly not obligated to tell him where I am at any given minute.

Ive seen Adams temper before. It never reached the point of physical violence, thank God, but there was plenty of abuse on the verbal end. Theres no talking to him when he gets worked up. Its like he morphs into a completely different person—one that completely terrifies me.

I knew it was a bad idea to ask him. Fuck me and my stupid, desperate decision-making.

Im having trouble standing still, so I grab Blaines shirt from the ground and slip it on. I march over to the table; grab our half-finished bottle of wine from dinner, and head over to the double French doors at the far side of the room. I dont care that its raining. I pull open the doors and step out onto the balcony.

The cold, wet air is a welcome slap in the face. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, and I wonder if that means Ill be able to go home tomorrow. I lean against the railing and take a swig of wine right from the bottle. Clearly, Kurt Hummel is the epitome of class right now.

This whole thing is a mess, and Im not sure theres any way out at this point. The Center isnt any closer to getting help. Adam is back in my life—and worse than ever. And on top of it all, Blaine has turned my insides into a big confused pile of mush.

I take another swig and stare out across the park, which you can see from afar. The city seems to twinkle in the twilight and the rain only seems to make the city seem more beautiful and ethereal. If I was here under different circumstances, I would like it more, but all I can feel right now is rage, resentment and resigned. And a little confused.

My body has never responded to anyone as it does to Blaine. And its not just the way my flesh prickles when hes near, or the way my breath seems to stop when he kisses me. Theres something that coils in my stomach when were close to each other, something more than just physical attraction. Every time I see a glimpse of pain in his eyes, or the darkness of a suppressed memory dance across his features, the coil tightens. Theres the potential for something else here, something deeper, but I know its stupid to indulge those feelings. That course can only end in heartbreak.

The situation with Adam only emphasizes that case. I knew it was stupid to call him again, even with completely innocent intentions, and it still blew up in my face. I need to start listening to my gut and stop allowing myself to be swayed by desperation or attraction or whatever it is that keeps getting me into trouble.

I take another swig of wine and close my eyes. I force myself to focus on the feeling of the cool rain hitting my skin, of the drops sliding down my face and neck. Not for the first time this weekend, Im struck by the sensation that this is all just some odd, vivid dream, and that any moment Ill wake and go off to work at the Center and all of these emotions rushing through me will be forgotten by the time Ive finished my first cup of coffee.

"Drinking without me?"

Blaines voice snaps me out of my thoughts. When I turn, hes standing in the doorway, heavy-lidded and looking absolutely delectable, for all that hes unfortunately decided to pull on a pair of pants before joining me in the rain. I turn back toward the rail and take another gulp of wine, fighting down the surge that rises in my belly at the sight of him.

"I didnt want to wake you up," I say without looking at him. He joins me at the railing.

"Arent you cold out here?"

I shake my head. "It feels nice." He holds out his hand for the wine bottle, and I pass it over.

He takes a drink and hands it back. "Its not often that I fall asleep with a man in my arms and wake up to an empty bed."

"No?" I ask. "Is it usually the other way around?"

I stare down at the wine bottle, but I can feel Blaines gaze on me, and I know hes trying to read me in the darkness.

"Thats not what I meant," he says finally. "Ill admit, I have a reputation for preferring sex to the intimacy that might come after, but its rare to meet someone other than me with such sentiments."

"Im not sure what youre suggesting. I couldnt sleep. Thats all." He doesnt say anything for a long moment, and I cant help myself. "And even if I am avoiding intimacy or whatever it is youre accusing me of, why does it matter?" I say. "I have no misconceptions about whats going on here. Why should I act like I have feelings for you when were just fucking?"

"Is that what you think? That were just fucking?"

I blink up at him in the rain, and I cant keep the shock from my voice. "Isnt it?"

Again he doesnt answer immediately, and Im not sure whether its panic or some other emotion that makes my chest contract.

When he finally answers, he avoids the question completely. "Tell me, what happened with that guy you were with at your fundraiser?" His query hits so close to all of my angst of the past couple of days that for a moment Im stunned into silence.

"How—why does it even matter?" I say finally.

Blaine takes the bottle from my hand and has another swig of wine. "I told you that I didnt approach you because I wasnt looking to start a fight," he says, "but thats not the whole truth. The other reason I didnt say anything to you was because I knew it would have been a lost cause. You only had eyes for him."

Was I that obvious? I wonder. Had I been that caught up in Adam? I think back to that night, to everything that had been going on between Adam and me the time. Arts & Hearts had fallen only a month before our breakup. Id sensed something wrong between us for weeks already, but Id still been desperate to save our relationship. I loved him so much—stupidly so, I now realize—and I wanted to make things work.

It was Valentines Day, and I felt gorgeous in my black suit—not to mention immensely proud of what Id accomplished with the event. That night Adam was his normal, charming self, but nothing more. He laughed at Wills jokes, listened attentively to the stories of our guests and patrons. But thered been nothing for me. No secret smile, no admiring glances, no kind words about the work Id done—or even appreciative comments about my outfit. I was a pathetic idiot. I should have realized it was over then. Hell, I should have dumped his ass ages before that.

Just thinking about it makes me sick.

"We broke up," I tell Blaine. "Not long after the event. I thought wed discussed this already."

He takes another gulp of wine and passes it back to me. "I just wanted to make sure."

"Dont worry," I assure him, wrapping my hands around the rain-soaked bottle. "Im free to fuck whoever I like."

"Thats not what I meant."

"No?"

He gives a humorless chuckle. "Kurt, that guy was an asshole. Anyone could see it." Except me, apparently. And Will. And the half-dozen friends and guests whod complimented me on landing the handsome, successful journalist. I dont even know what my dad would have thought considering Adam never seemed eager to meet him the handful of times my dad made the trek to New York. I believe the phrase "great catch" was thrown around more than once.

But Blaines not done.

"Hes the kind of guy who just likes to hear himself talk. He expects everyone to fawn over him, and most of the time, people do. Hes happy as long as he thinks you need him. Meanwhile he couldnt care less about what you actually think or want or feel. Its a very one-sided sort of relationship, I imagine."

Hes so on the nose about Adam that I dont even know what to say. He got all that from watching us interact for one evening? "Though I bet," Blaine continues, "that as soon as he thinks youre moving on, or that you dont need him anymore, he changes his tune completely. Guys like that hate it when they realize you dont need them anymore."

I think of Adams messages this evening, and I know Blaine has it exactly right. "Its over," I assure him again. "Dont worry. I have no misconceptions about him anymore."

"Good. You deserve better than that. You deserve a guy who appreciates you, who considers himself lucky as fuck to know that you chose to be with him."

I roll my eyes. "Are we in an after-school special now?"

"Im serious, Kurt. Youre a remarkable man."

"I dont even know why were having this conversation," I say. "I thought we were just fucking?"

Something flashes in his eyes—is that disappointment? Anger? Something darker? I dont trust myself to know.

I wait for him to argue, but instead he pulls me hard against him. "Just fucking, huh?" he breathes against my hair. "Then maybe we should be doing a little more of that." He kisses me, and heat explodes through my body. His tongue slips into my mouth, and I suck it between my teeth. He moans and grabs my ass, grinding against me. Forget all the rest. This I understand. This I want. I twine my hands in his hair and curl my fingers against his scalp, holding his mouth against mine. There are no questions, no judgment, and no exes. Just desire.

He breaks away from me, but only enough to yank his shirt off of me. He tosses it aside, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom and lube. Hes prepared, as always. He pushes down his pants in one movement, but before I can admire his naked form he grabs me, twists me around, and pushes me forward. My hands grasp at the railing, but he catches me by the hips, drawing my ass back toward him. His hand closes around the back of my neck, holding me bent over the railing. My fingers curl around the rail, and I lean my head forward to rest my forehead on the wet wrought iron. I imagine the people in the building behind Blaines could see us if they looked outside, but I couldnt really care.

The hand that doesnt hold my neck slips across the curve of my ass, down between my ass cheeks. His fingers dance across my hole, gently exploring, sliding his finger in and out using the rain for lubrication until my entire body is quivering. My skin has grown so hot that the rain now feels icy-cold on my back.

"You want to be fucked, Kurt?" he rasps over the rain. I nod. "Answer me," he growls, tightening his hold on my neck.

"Yes," I gasp. "Yes, please, yes."

Theres a rush of cold air as he stands upright again, and I hardly have time to register the cold rain on my back and the crinkle I hear of wrappers opening before he rams into me. I suck in a breath and my fingers tighten on the railing. Not having been properly lubed in advance is not making this entirely painless, but the pain is a whisper while the pleasure tearing through me is a loud roar. "Is this what you want?" Blaine says. He withdraws and then thrusts again, driving more deeply this time.

I let out a moan.

"Say it," he commands roughly. "Say it!"

"Yes. Yes, I want this." My voice cracks on the last word.

He removes his hand from my neck, but only so he can grab my hips with both hands. His fingers dig into my skin as he drives into me another time. "What do you want, Kurt? Say the whole thing."

I squeeze the rail. "I want you to fuck me."

He groans, and then he loses all semblance of control. He thrusts, again and again with wild abandon, and its all I can do to keep my grip on the railing. Im gasping for breath, overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside of me. In this position, he feels deeper in me than he ever has before.

"Is...this...what...you...want?" Blaine grunts. His fingers dig into my hips.

"Yes," I rasp. "Fuck me, yes." He continues to pound into me, and its all I can do not to continue my cursing. I can feel my body tensing and tightening, building toward release. I press my forehead against the rail, trying to keep myself together.

But Blaine has another idea. He reaches up and grabs my neck harshly, pulling my head up. Theres a sharp pain in my neck and chest from the rapid movement, but I dont care.

He thrusts again, and I cry out as my climax hits me hard, spurting my come on the rail and the ground two floors below. I grip the railing with white knuckles and bite down on the back of my hand to keep from screaming. From the way Blaine groans behind me, I know he feels the way Im tightening and pulsing around his cock.

He gives a low, rough chuckle. He enjoys watching me fall apart in pleasure. "Again?" he asks, continuing his rhythmic movements. It would be so easy to let him take me to the edge once more. My flesh craves it. My heart is beating so fast Im afraid its going to burst right out of my ribs, and Im struggling to catch a solid breath. Blaines grip tightens, and his speed increases. Hes not going to show me any mercy.

But as much as I love letting him control these intense encounters, suddenly Im struck by an urge that I cant allow myself to ignore. Our sexual encounters have been one sided and if hes wanting to go for round two, maybe he is the one that should be fucked to oblivion.

"Wait," I gasp. "Blaine, wait."

He slows. "Dont worry, your body can handle it. The second one will be even better."

"No, thats not what I mean." I twist myself away from him. Im not prepared for the sudden rush of cold I feel when were separated, or the weakness in my body when I pull myself upright. Blaine stands rigid in front of me, and I can only imagine what hes thinking and feeling right now.

"Sit in the chair," I say.

"What?" His voice is tight.

"You heard me." My voice is stronger, steadier than my body feels right now. "Sit in the chair."

This time my meaning sinks in, and theres a touch of amusement in Blaines voice when he speaks again. "Im supposed to be the one in charge tonight. That was the bargain."

I desperately grasp at the tiny bud of confidence the wine left behind. "I dont think you know what youre missing," I say in my sultriest voice.

He steps closer to me, pressing me back up against the rail. "You sound very sure of yourself." I reach up and run a lone finger down his body, starting at his throat and ending at the base of his hard length.

"Were not properly fucking if you never let me top," I say as I wrap my fingers around him. He laughs, but its a rough, hungry sound.

"A valid point." He steps away from me, and I revel at the sense of power I feel as I watch him settle obediently in one of the balconys chairs. I take a deep breath. Ill admit it: I prefer when hes in control, when Im at the mercy of his hands and mouth and cock. But theres something deep inside me that needs to do this that needs to control him for a moment.

I move slowly toward him, and when Im standing in front of his chair, I reach out and place my hands on his broad shoulders. His muscles flex slightly beneath my touch. I step forward, sitting between his opened legs as he lounges slightly in the chair, and then I run my fingers down his arms, over his smooth hot skin. I can feel him watching me intently, even though I can hardly see his face in the dark. I can hear his heavy breathing over the rain.

I move one hand to his chest and slide it down his stomach, echoing my touch of a moment ago. When I reach the base of his cock, I find him still rock-hard and ready. For all his initial hesitation, he still seems pretty excited to let me take the reins. I curl my fingers around him and slide my hand gently down his length. Hes still slick from being inside me and I pull hard to try and grab some of the moisture from the lube hed snuck in as I use it to wet my fingers.

"Maybe I should torture you a little," I say, taking my time as I slide my hand up his length again while slowly tucking my hand behind his ass to graze over his hole. "Maybe I should give you a taste of your own medicine."

He moans, and his hands grab me by the hips. "Youre already torturing me," he says, his voice tight. I smile. Its incredibly arousing to be the one in charge for once. I love watching him crumble beneath my touch.

I lower myself a little more down his body so if I was to kneel on my knees, my now hard cock would likely be right next to Blaines chest. Were as close as we can be without penetration and the angle leaves me with a teasing notion of whats to come. "Not nearly enough." I slide myself forward so that he can feel my cock against his body, so that the head of my cock is teasing between his legs. He groans and tightens his grip on my hips, urging me with his hands.

"Im in charge here," I remind him. "Were doing this at my speed." I finally breach the hole thats been shaking since I sat between his legs and he lets out a long, shaky breath, and I know its taking all of his self-control to keep from going at his own pace rather than let me maintain control. I lean forward and brush my lips along his neck. Once, twice, three times while my finger easily brushes in and out of his ass. He sucks in a breath, but thats not enough. I move up to his ear, and then I run my tongue along its curved edge. He squirms a little beneath me, and his fingers tighten on me yet again. Finally I slip my tongue into the ear itself and swirl it around.

Blaine lets out a groan. "Enough," he rasps. "Kurt, please." He squirms beneath me. Im tempted to give him what he wants, but Im not done playing just yet. I stop my gentle fingering and extract my fingers to spit into my hand, letting the moisture run down my fingers and tease it further into his crack, causing him to moan in bliss.

I debate starting with one finger again but soon shift to two once I realize that Blaine is more than frustrated at the current, slow pace. Once two fingers have eased his opening, I push in a third, causing Blaine to practically jump off the lounge chair and I realize that Id found the place in Blaine that makes him come apart.

I hastily remove my hands and look up at him, seeing frantic desire behind his eyes. "Condom?" I ask, not sure if hed brought more than one with him.

He quickly rolls over to where hed discarded his pants and pulls out a line of condoms. "Eager?" I ask.

"Optimistic," he retorts and sets himself back on the lounger, loosely fisting his cock as I struggle to not watch his movements and roll the condom on. Once its secured, I take some of the excess moisture and rub it on my cock. Blaine seems impatient with my pace and grabs my thighs to pull me forward, causing my cock to rub against his ass cheeks that hes lifted up to ease me into him.

He moves, trying to drive me into him, but I twist away and shake my head. "Were doing this at my pace," I tell him, parroting back his own words from earlier. This time, when I position myself, he sits still, though I can tell by his low, throaty growl exactly what he thinks of my teasing.

I push myself into him slowly, until only the tip of me is inside of him. His shoulders are stiff beneath my hands, and I know he must be going crazy with self-restraint. Good. Let him suffer a little for all those times hes had me under his control. I push myself in a little more, and this time he leans forward to claim my neck. He nips at my throat, urging me onward as I continue my slow push forward.

By the time hes all the way wrapped around me me, his breath is ragged, and I know there are teeth marks all over my skin. His skin is blazing hot beneath my hands, and his body is slick with warm sweat, even in this drizzle. From the stiffness in his body, I suspect hes only barely contained. Truth be told, Im having a little trouble controlling myself.

"How do you like it?" I whisper into his ear. "How does it feel to be at my mercy, for once?" I pull back again, just as slowly, and when Blaine doesnt answer me immediately, I know hes struggling. I lean forward and give his ear a playful bite.

"Youre cruel," he says finally. "Youre the cruelest, most infuriating man Ive ever met." One of his hands moves to my neck, and he pulls me down into a kiss. I let him. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and bear down with my teeth, just a little, just enough to make him moan again. He pulls away once more and begins tracing a path of kisses along my jawline.

"Youre also the wildest," he says between kisses. "And the sexiest. And the most utterly intoxicating..." His words make the blood rush beneath my skin. I dont know how much longer I can hold back. I begin to rock in and out slowly, but every touch of Blaines fingers and lips makes it that much more difficult to maintain this measured pace.

"Fuck, Kurt," he says. "Youre killing me." This time he pushes upward, burying himself on me before I have the chance to stop him.

And thats it.

I begin to move into him, hard and fast, and he moans and echoes my movements, thrusting his hips up to meet me with his body. My fingers dig in his shoulders, and I throw my head back, letting the rain fall down on my face as I fuck him unlike Id never fucked any other man before. Every jerk of my body wrings a grunt from his throat, and Im matching his sounds of pleasure with cries of my own. I feel like a wild man, a crazed, sexual being who only wants one thing and will do anything to get it.

We push against each other until I know nothing but the heat and friction and pleasure. Theres just me and his hands and my cock and his ass and his hot mouth moving across my exposed throat. He bites down on the tender flesh, and I cry out and move faster in him.

My thrusts are becoming more fitful. Blaine seems to notice, because he groans and thrusts more violently against me. Im close to climaxing again but I want him to explode first.

The next time he thrusts to meet me, I stop moving. I take his ass into my hands and tilt him up slightly and plunge into his ass with a ferocity he hadnt seen before now.

He growls.

I slam into him again, and again, and the third time he gives another quick push against me before going rigid and I can see his cock spurting whats practically liquid gold all down my chest and his. Feeling him come beneath me sends me over the edge myself, and I cry out as I join him on the rippling waves of orgasm.

When the pleasure ends, I collapse against him.

"Well," Blaine murmurs in my ear after a moment. His voice is rough. "I think Im going to like this just fucking arrangement very much."

I know that I was the one who brought it up in the first place, but something twists a little in my stomach at his words. Im not sure whats going on with me right now, but every sexual encounter with this man only seems to leave me more confused. At first, I clung to my hatred and told myself that my lust was only an unfortunate complication of the situation.

But the more I indulge my desires with Blaine, the more I find myself drawn to the man himself. Ive caught glimpses of his own pain and frustration, and every time he holds me close like this and whispers sweet things in my ear, I find myself wishing I knew more of him. Theres a softness to him, but its hidden behind some emotions that I cant even begin to decipher.

But even though Im starting to recognize my own feelings, I know theyre wrong. This man is responsible for the Centers financial troubles. It doesnt matter whats happened between us this weekend—I cant forgive him for that.

I close my eyes and rest my forehead on his shoulder. I dont even try to respond to his last statement. I know Ill never find the words.

Instead, I try to focus on the cold of the rain on my back and try to ignore the cold thats taken root in my belly.