Thanksgiving was barely over before Christmas exploded onto the scene, overdressed for the party. There were Santas at every subway station, carols playing everywhere, and stores were glittering with tinsel and lights. And, as was her tradition, Rachel sent out her annual Christmas/Hanukah party invitations.

Kurt wouldn't be going back to Ohio for Christmas, so he knew he would have to go, whether he was in the mood for a party or not. Burt and Carole would be coming to New York to spend the holiday with him, while Finn went to Kentucky to spend a few days with his girlfriend's family. But he had no time to think about parties now – December was one of the busiest times for him, so he usually stayed late at the boutique to work on new pieces, leaving long after the store closed. Weekends he went to the Garment District to find new fabric, and at night when he couldn't sleep, he would sketch designs, with a movie playing in the background to keep him company.

Blaine had seen Kurt immersed in this seasonal design frenzy before so he wasn't unduly worried, but he did make sure to regularly stop by Kurt's apartment to ensure he was at least eating, instead of working himself into a collapse.

“Honey, I'm home!” He called on a Sunday morning, arms loaded with grocery bags, and pushing the front door closed behind him with his butt.

Kurt grunted in response, took a sip from his cold coffee before grimacing and pushing the cup away, and lifted the sketch he was working on so Blaine could see it. “Does this jacket look right to you? There's something wrong with it and I can't figure out what.”

Blaine hitched the groceries a little higher in his arms, careful not to drop anything and walked towards Kurt, squinting down at the drawing. “Uhm. Yeah, why do you think something's wrong? I like the colors… is that indigo?”

“Yeah, and coral,” Kurt said, putting the sketch back down on the table and taking another look at it, frowning. “The pattern is supposed to be geometrical, but maybe it won't be very flattering once you see it on someone…”

Blaine studied it for a couple more seconds. “What's that line there? The one that seems to cut the jacket in two. What would it look like if you get rid of it?”

Kurt blinked and then gasped. “Oh my god, you're a genius! Of course! It shortens the torso and it looks so weird! Why did I put that there?” He immediately started erasing the line, careful not to ruin the rest of the design.

“I'm happy to be of service,” Blaine smiled, and finally turned towards the kitchen. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No,” Kurt replied distractedly. “Just coffee.”

“Of course,” Blaine rolled his eyes. “I'm making brunch. Do you want to help?”

“Let me just fix this and I'll be right there with you,” Kurt said.

“Fine, but I'm dragging you into the kitchen in twenty minutes, and you're not allowed to get back to your sketches or even think about work until tomorrow morning. And I'm being nice,” Blaine said, pointing at him with a spatula and trying to look menacing, which he never succeeded at.

Kurt looked at him, appalled, but knew there was no use in arguing with Blaine – he was very good at making Kurt stop and take a break when he needed one and wasn't aware of it.

Once their brunch was ready, they settled on the floor with their backs against the couch, and their food spread over the coffee table. Blaine insisted on watching cartoons, claiming it would help Kurt decompress after such a long week. He couldn't really complain about that.

Kurt stole a bite of pancakes from Blaine's plate. “So, any news? How was your week? We didn't get to talk much.”

“It was okay, I guess,” Blaine replied, as he returned the favor by stealing some bacon from Kurt. “I may have to quit the band, though…”

“What? Why?” Kurt said, frowning.

“Theo quit, and Georgina and Jimmy are determined to go on a tour,” Blaine explained tiredly. He was so done with all this drama. “They want to use her brother's van and just travel around the country and play in as many bars as they possibly can. They told me I can either join them or quit. They are going to find a new drummer, so it wouldn't be much trouble to hold audition for a new vocalist and keyboardist.”

“Oh, Blaine, that sucks,” Kurt scooted closer and rubbed a hand over his arm comfortingly. “It's very shitty of them to tell you that. You've worked your ass off for this band. They should give you the chance to find other alternatives…”

“Yeah, well, they are not,” Blaine shrugged as if it didn't matter, but Kurt could see in his eyes that he was genuinely upset. “They haven't even booked any gigs, they just want to go and see what happens. It sounds like a lot of fun, and it sure is an adventure, but I can't help thinking it's more a waste of time and money. I can't give up my apartment or pay rent while I'm on the road just so it sits there empty until I come back god knows when. I can't just cancel on all the kids I tutor – I'm really counting on that money, and they are truly great.”

“So… you're not gonna go? Are you sure you don't want it? Don't let this go just because it's the practical thing to do,” Kurt smiled at him encouragingly. “If you really want it, go for it, sweetheart.”

Blaine's eyes fixed on his for a moment. His gaze was so intense that Kurt's breath hitched in his throat. Slowly, Blaine shook his head, still looking at him. “No. I can't go.”

A chill ran down Kurt's spine. For some reason, he decided it was better if he didn't ask any more questions.

*

Something had changed. Blaine had noticed it before their trip to Ohio for Thanksgiving. He would catch Kurt watching every now and then – his eyes would turn into a darker shade of blue and wander across his face, his arms, his chest. Usually, Kurt cleared his throat and looked away, immediately changing the subject or turning the TV on, or suddenly remembering he was supposed to be elsewhere.

And every time Kurt's eyes lingered a little longer than normal, Blaine stopped breathing.

It was probably time to be a hundred percent honest with himself – he was in love with Kurt. He had been in love with Kurt since they were sixteen years old, back when they thought winning trophies with their show choirs was the be-all and end-all. When they had kissed that summer, in the darkness of Noah Puckerman's patio and with lips that tasted like cheap beer and hope, Blaine had been too scared to lose his best friend to actually do something about it. Kurt was the first genuine friend he had ever had – the kind that lasted forever, if he played his cards right. And he had played them right, because Kurt was still in his life, and Blaine couldn't imagine living it without him by his side.

Deep down inside, Blaine knew that all of his relationships had failed because he couldn't find a single guy who could measure up to Kurt, who could make his heart race like Kurt did, who would make him feel happy and safe like Kurt did. And still, even though he loved him desperately, he had been so thrilled when Kurt and Mark fell in love.

Mark had approached him once, shortly after they first met, frowning in concern and fidgeting slightly. “Can I ask you a question, Blaine?”

“Sure, what's up?” Blaine had turned the TV volume down to show he was listening, even though his eyes were still fixed on the Buckeyes game he had been watching.

“Is there anything going on with you and Kurt?” Mark asked, rather bluntly, and Blaine did tear his eyes from the television then. His eyebrows were up in surprise. “I'm sorry if it's none of my business, but… you know. Two guys who know each other for as long as you two have known each other, who are best friends and share absolutely everything… sometimes you behave more like a couple than friends. I just… I just want to make sure there's nothing there. And if there is… then I would like to know before I fall for Kurt any harder.”

Mark had been so honest and kind about it, had looked so nervous and hopeful, that Blaine had patted his knee in comfort, and shook his head. “You have nothing to worry about. He's head over heels for you.”

Mark smiled in relief, but he was still studying Blaine intently. “And… what about you?”

Blaine blinked, at a loss for words. Telling Mark the truth might cause trouble, but he didn't want to lie either. “I love Kurt more than I have ever loved anyone,” he whispered, so Kurt wouldn't hear him from his bedroom, where he was dressing for their date tonight. Mark's eyes widened, clearly shocked, but Blaine stopped him before he said anything. “That's why I would never jeopardize his happiness. I have been in love with him since we were teenagers and I never did anything about it. And I'm not going to now. He means too much to me to risk losing his friendship.” 

Other guys might have punched him, distrusted him, or tried to make Kurt chose between them, but not Mark. He simply nodded, as if whatever he wanted to know had been answered. He chose to trust Blaine, and right then and there Blaine knew this man was worthy of marrying Kurt someday.

God, if only things hadn't turned tragic at the worst possible moment…

But Blaine had been happy for Kurt when things were alright. Blaine had been content dating without really getting serious with anyone – the guys he knew weren't meet-the-parents material, and definitely not walk-down-the-aisle material. He had awful taste in men, according to Kurt, but Blaine just never told him that he had found the one perfect man, and since he couldn't have him, he had to settle for whatever he could find. He would never love any of those guys like he loved Kurt – a love as pure and strong as this could be felt once in a lifetime – but he could eventually find one who wasn't an absolute moron, who would make him happy enough to want to spend the rest of his life with him.

He could find his happily ever after, even if he wasn't the one ending up with Prince Charming.

That's why he knew that Kurt's lingering looks couldn't mean what he silently dreamed they could mean. Kurt had been acting out of character since Mark's death. This could be anything.

In fact, Kurt was the main reason he didn't jump into Georgina's brother's van to go on that stupid tour. Because yes, it was a stupid tour. They had no plans but to play wherever they wanted to listen to them, and the logical part of Blaine's brain knew that they had more chances of finding someone from a record company while playing in one bar in New York than by playing in every single bar of the other forty nine states. But it sounded like fun, like an adventure, like something to do while you're still allowed to be young and free. Of course Blaine wanted to do it, no matter how inconvenient it was.

But he knew Kurt needed him. He had leaned on Blaine completely since the wedding, and even though Blaine knew how strong and fierce Kurt was, there were times when Kurt had trouble remembering. He needed someone who would give him support unconditionally while he navigated his life in the dark, until he was able to find the one ray of sunshine to feel warm and safe again. And Blaine would be that support for as long as Kurt needed him.

He was his best friend, after all.

*

Kurt could feel the rage building day by day, just under the surface. It had been growing stronger for weeks, now that his grief and pain were starting to subside. It was only a matter of time before he wouldn't be able to stop it from bubbling over and spilling everywhere.

First, he was mad at himself.

Every year, Blaine asked Kurt for help with his Christmas presents, because he knew Kurt never got it wrong when it came to shopping. So they met at their favorite coffee shop to caffeinate before they launched on a shopping spree that would last for hours, if their past ones were any indication.

But then Kurt saw the pants Blaine was wearing.

Blaine always wore pants that fit him perfectly. These ones – beautiful red pants that ended just a couple of inches above his shoes, just like Blaine liked them – were tight and hugged his thighs perfectly, exposing his muscles even through the thick fabric. The curve of his ass was practically highlighted, and for a moment, Kurt stared at him, feeling his mouth dry, as his body fought what would have been a very, very uncomfortable and unfortunate reaction.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He was turning into a creep.

Kurt had to force himself not to stare at his best friend's butt (and legs, oh how had he never noticed Blaine had such lovely legs?) for the rest of the day. The shopping, often enough to make Kurt forget the rest of the world, was barely a distraction, and when Blaine announced he needed to get a few things for himself, and asked Kurt to approve them for him, Kurt would have sworn he was having palpitations.

He hated himself for this – as well as having fantasies about Blaine during his own private time. He wasn't supposed to be looking at other men like this, even if he and Blaine had a history together, and Kurt certainly wasn't blind. Mark was still so present in his life, like he hadn't left at all, like he was away on business but would return soon… and Kurt knew that he wouldn't, but there were times when he still couldn't believe Mark had been taken away from him so quickly, in the blink of an eye…

The second time he got horribly angry, it was worst, because it wasn't at himself, and he couldn't hide it as easily as he had the first time. It was actually at a customer.

The woman was clearly used to getting everything handed to her in a silver platter. Kurt had no idea what she was doing at his store, instead of shopping at the big brands on Fifth Avenue, but every now and then, he got some of those upper class women who wanted to add pieces to their wardrobes that none of their friends would be able to have as well, and when it came to exclusive clothes, Kurt Hummel had begun to be the name on everybody's lips.

She made Anna drag Kurt out from the backroom, claiming that she wanted the designer himself to take care of her business, looking Anna up and down, judging her openly. Anna simply rolled her eyes, not exactly affected by the woman's awful manners, and did what she asked. Kurt was not pleased to be out of his office – he had been working very intently on a new sketch, and they were running a little tight on time with the upcoming holidays. He wasn't in the mood for this.

“How can I help you?” He asked, as politely as he could. The smile seemed strained in his face, but the customer didn't notice.

“I was looking for a dress just like this one,” she said, pointing at a beautiful blue cocktail dress. “But this lady is informing me that they only have it in this size. I need it in a smaller size. This looks like it's for an elephant…”

Kurt looked at the dress and back to the woman. “Ma'am, that dress is a size four. It's definitely not for an elephant.”

She looked down at her own body, fit, small and skinny. “I'm a size zero. I would like this dress in a normal size, please.”

“I never make two identical pieces. This the spirit of my boutique. No one has the same design, each is unique.” Kurt explained as patiently as he could, although he was certain that Anna had already explained the very same thing. “Anna would be happy to show you the selection of my designs in your size.”

“I've already seen them. This is the dress I want. In my size.” The woman said pointedly. I've heard good things about your place but if you only cater to fat dumpy people I might as well go to Target…”

And Kurt could feel it coming. It travelled up his throat, as he took a step closer to the woman and towered over her. “Listen to me, if you're not too busy with the stick you must have up your ass: if you don't like the dresses I have to offer you, you're most welcome to leave. I cater for every type of woman and man, and if you have a problem with that, then I recommend you try finding something elsewhere. And even if I had another dress in your size that you wanted to buy, I'm afraid I'd rather not do business with people who discriminate others based on how they look. I'd rather weigh a million pounds instead of being such a horrible person, who, by the way, clearly needs to stop with the spray tan.” He looked her up and down just as she had done with Anna, raising an eyebrow at her very unflattering orange-ish skin tone.

The woman simply stared at him, mouth agape, completely shocked. “I…”

“Good day to you,” Kurt said, before turning on his heels and marching back into his office.

Anna followed him only a few seconds later, after he heard the door closing behind the surely still-bewildered woman. He was standing by his desk, leaning with his palms pressed on top of it, breathing with difficulty.

“Uhm… I'm sort of afraid to ask, but are you alright?” She was wide-eyed and just as surprised as the customer had been.

“Yes,” he replied sharply, still struggling to keep his temper under control. “I just need a minute.”

“Of course,” Anna said, taking a few steps back. “Just let me know if you need anything – you know, talking, a drink, a valium…”

Kurt must have glared at her pretty dangerously, because Anna simply raised her hands in defense and backed out of the office as quickly as she could.

He couldn't understand why he was so angry all the time – he felt completely lost in his emotions, and his reactions surprised him just as much as they surprised others. But he didn't really have to think much to realize why he was so upset.

He was angry at Mark. It was completely irrational. Mark didn't choose to die on their wedding day. But he couldn't help being mad that Mark had left him alone to travel through this life on his own, when it should have been the two of them against the world for the rest of their lives. He had left Kurt with a long list of things they planned to do, lost because the path he had planned to walk was meant for two. A list that would remain unfinished business.

He was angry because being in so much pain sucked. It sucked to wake up in the morning and remember once again that the empty side of the bed wasn't only temporarily empty, that his husband wasn't in the bathroom or making breakfast so they could eat it together in bed. Mark was gone, and it didn't matter how many times Kurt repeated that sentence to himself, it still felt like something surreal and improbable.

But it was the cold hard truth.

Kurt was standing in this world with a shattered future, all alone, unsure which way to go, because the paths that he had planned to walk down were meant for two.

*

Christmas was a quiet affair that year. Blaine joined Burt, Carole and Kurt at his best friend's apartment for lunch, and they exchanged presents by the tree. Kurt went silent afterwards, glancing out the window at the snow falling steadily, and the others allowed him a moment, knowing how hard this was for him.

Burt and Carole left the day after Christmas, making sure to hug Kurt extra hard. They promised they would visit soon again – they knew, without Kurt needing to tell them, that he really needed them around. Just with one quick look shared with Burt, Blaine told him he wouldn't leave him on his own. Burt just nodded – he had always been able to trust Blaine.

Neither was very excited about Rachel's Christmas party, but Blaine thought it might be good for Kurt to go out, have a drink, and relax. Kurt only agreed to go after he realized he had spent most of the past few nights sitting on the couch devouring Christmas treats in his sweatpants.

When Kurt arrived at Rachel's incredibly spacious loft in Midtown Manhattan, he immediately spotted Blaine standing near the balcony door, sipping on a drink and talking to a few of Rachel's cast mates. Blaine had his back to the front door, so he hadn't seen Kurt yet.

Blaine turned to him with a smile when Kurt placed a hand on his back to announce his presence. Kurt's breath caught in his throat at how breathtakingly beautiful Blaine looked. He was always attractive, but there was something about him tonight that made Kurt's mouth go dry.

He was wearing simple, classic clothes – black fitted pants with beautiful shiny shoes, and a white button down. He had forgone the bowtie for once, and the first two buttons of the shirt were undone. There was a bit of chest hair peeking from the opening, and Kurt's pulse raced at the sight of it.

“Hey!” Blaine greeted brightly, but then frowned when he looked Kurt a little closely. “You okay? You seem a little flushed…”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Kurt said immediately, shaking his head hoping it would help clear it. “It's a little stuffy in here, that's all.”

“Let's find you a drink, then,” Blaine proposed, linking their arms together and taking him towards the kitchen, where Rachel had set up an improvised bar.

Rachel appeared by his side right when Blaine was handing him a glass of champagne, and Kurt had to keep it away from him to avoid getting his shirt stained thanks to the force of her embrace.

“Kurt! I'm so happy you came. I was starting to think you wouldn't be here…” She pouted, before placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “You look great. Will you dance with me later?”

“Of course, Rach,” he said, rolling his eyes. She was quite tipsy already. “Just let me get a drink first, okay?”

“Sure! I have to go. So many people to greet! Just make yourself at home, and let me know if you are in the mood for a little karaoke later!” She blew him a kiss and disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.

Kurt chuckled and finally took a sip from his drink. “She's going to have such a hangover tomorrow…”

“She's a big girl. As long as she doesn't hurt herself…” Blaine murmured, grabbing some champagne for himself as well.

“Don't let me drink too much, please. I have some work to finish tomorrow, and I don't need a splitting headache to deal with on top of everything,” Kurt said, leaning against the counter and watching as the crowd danced, chatted, and laughed, having a good time. He felt a little estranged from it all, but he guessed it was normal, all things considering. He was still determined to enjoy himself, even if it wasn't the happiest time of his life.

“Yes, sir,” Blaine winked at him, and Kurt tried to convince himself his heart didn't stop for a moment because of it. “But you have to save a dance or two for me, too. Rachel already tried to set me up with three of her friends, and one of them had a huge nipple ring…”

Kurt frowned. “How do you know that?”

“He showed me,” Blaine deadpanned. “He cornered me in the bathroom and opened his shirt. He told me to let him know if I ‘wanted to get a piece of that'. I think I'm going to be scarred for the rest of my life…”

Kurt snorted into his drink, doing his best not to laugh at Blaine, who looked completely horrified. “Well, I'm here now. I can send away whatever freak Rachel wants you to date. I've been told my glare is bulletproof.”

“Bulletproof? I'd say it's lethal, darling,” Blaine said, grinning at him.

Kurt poured himself more champagne.

*

When Rachel finally dragged Kurt to dance with her, Blaine stood by the window, half watching the lights of New York, half watching his friends move around each other, laughing. It was the most relaxed he had seen Kurt in months, and he knew it was partly due to the two glasses of champagne he had downed. Regardless, it was nice to see the goofy smile stretching his lips.

He looked amazing, too – not that it was a surprise. Kurt always looked impeccable, gorgeous in his perfectly-tailored clothes and bold color combinations. The tie he was wearing tonight had swirls of blue and green that made his eyes pop, sparkling even from all the way across the room. Blaine was always mesmerized by him.

One of Rachel's friends approached her as he watched, tapping her on the shoulder and then quietly speaking into her ear. Whatever the girl said made Rachel nod solemnly and apologize to Kurt, leaving him on his own on the dance floor. Kurt looked around awkwardly for a moment, and Blaine assumed he would come find him, when a man immediately stepped into Rachel's vacated place, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist confidently.

Kurt arched an eyebrow, clearly not amused by this stranger's attitude. He shook his head and put his hands on his chest, trying to push him away, but the man didn't seem to take a hint, and simply continued dancing with him. When the man began to grind against him in a way that was more usual in dark gay bars, and Kurt glared at him as if he was ready to set him on fire, Blaine decided to intervene.

He walked up to them and slipped between them, wrapping his arms around Kurt and pulling him close, completely ignoring the other guy. “Hey honey! I was looking for you. The babysitter says the kids are okay. You can stop worrying now…”

“Oh good. I was worried Ally was still puking everywhere.” Kurt replied glibly, playing along. “I don't know what that child ate, but I have no idea how I will ever get the stains out of the couch cushions.”

The man walked away, face scrunched in disgust, and they barely managed to hold their laughter until they were sure he was gone and couldn't hear them.

“Thanks for that,” Kurt murmured, wrapping his own arms around Blaine's neck and falling into motion with him easily. “I was about to kick him in the groin…”

Blaine hummed in amusement. “Well, I would rather spend the rest of the night dancing with you than stopping you from committing murder, so…”

“Guess you're stuck with me, then,” Kurt chuckled.

Blaine was perfectly okay with that.

*

The longer they danced, the harder it was for Kurt to stop himself from touching Blaine.

His chest was firm and solid against his, and those damn chest hairs still peeking from his shirt seemed to be mocking him. His jaw was covered with the beginnings of a dark stubble, and Kurt wanted to feel the roughness of it against his fingertips. He smelled amazing, too – so masculine, like clean sweat and sweet cologne.

It was driving him crazy. It wasn't only how horrible it made him feel that he could feel attracted to someone when the wounds of Mark's death were still so open, still bleeding, but Blaine was also his best friend, and he never wanted to do something that would damage that friendship. It meant too much to him. It was his everything right now.

Blaine was his everything.

They had a nice time, despite having to dodge Rachel trying to introduce Blaine to painfully lame guys, and her plying Kurt with drinks that were four parts alcohol to one part mix. But Kurt knew better than to trust Rachel when it came to drinks.

When they finally left, Kurt was too tired to ride the subway home, so he agreed to spend the night at Blaine's apartment. They bundled up in their coats and decided to walk the short distance there. Kurt wouldn't have usually think anything when Blaine wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer to keep warm, but after spending the entire night struggling not to be inappropriate with his best friend, even the smallest touch became too much.

Just thinking about getting up relatively early the next day and get to work was enough to make Kurt even more tired. He leaned heavily against the wall outside Blaine's apartment while his friend searched for the keys, and closed his eyes, willing all the intense, weird, alien feelings, thoughts, and sensations of the night to melt away and leave him alone.

However, when he opened his eyes, he discovered most of the hallway was decorated with branches of mistletoe, and both he and Blaine were standing under one of them.

“What?” Blaine asked, confused, when Kurt gasped. He followed Kurt's eyes up to the ceiling. “Oh,” he simply stared at the mistletoe for a moment. “Yeah, that's my next door neighbor. She put them up the other day. I'm pretty sure she's trying to find a perfect excuse to kiss the guy in 3B…”

Kurt's heart was thumping in his chest and he couldn't make it stop. His eyes were still fixed on the little green branches.

“Just ignore it,” Blaine said, shrugging. He finally got the door open. “Let's go, we have to…”

But Kurt never found out what they had to do. He wasn't sure what made him do it, but everything he had felt in the past few months – all the pain, the loneliness, the anger, the despair – seemed to explode inside of him and push him forward, making him collapse against Blaine's chest. He framed his face with his hands, and only registered for a second how Blaine's eyes widened in absolute shock, before he leaned in and kissed him.

He panicked for a second, with their lips pressed together, but he was too scared to end the kiss, not knowing what would happen when he did. And then, after a sharp intake of breath, Blaine's arms were around his waist and his mouth was moving under his, kissing back fiercely.

It was so different from that kiss they had shared after Blaine's senior year of high school. There was nothing innocent about this one, nothing shy and tentative. It was a passionate, strong kiss, with dancing tongues and muffled moans. It wasn't a kiss between two kids – it was a kiss between two adults who knew very well where it might take them.

There wasn't time to talk. There wasn't time to stop. They paused very quickly to breathe, but their lips attached once again almost immediately. Suffocating didn't seem all that important, when the feelings the kiss was eliciting were so much stronger, so much more intense.

Kurt whined, almost as if he was in pain. He was so aroused already that he thought he might die from it. Kissing Blaine was a full-sensory experience – his fingers were digging into his back; his lips were pressing insistently against his; the breathy sounds he was allowing to escape him were nothing short of tantalizing; the smell of his cologne and sweat, that Kurt had already noticed at the party, seemed to fill him completely, and the taste of his kisses made him hungry for more.

“Kurt,” Blaine muttered in a choked voice. “Oh god… we should…”

“Don't,” Kurt sobbed, pressing himself closer to Blaine's body. “Blaine, please…”

Blaine gasped when he felt the outline of Kurt's cock already pushing insistently against his thigh. Whatever logical reasoning left in the room evaporated right then. He kicked the front door closed and pushed Kurt against it, covering his body with his own and revealing in how hard and perfect it felt.

He began kissing along Kurt's jaw, his lips and tongue searching for all of his sensitive spots, finding the first one right behind his ear, and causing Kurt to moan loudly and thrash against him, looking for more.

“What do you need?” Blaine asked, and his voice sounded unexpectedly sweet.

“Anything. You. Anything,” Kurt babbled, as his hands worked quickly to get Blaine's coat off.

He had always seen Blaine's body as compact and tiny, giving the vibe of being perfect to envelope in one's arms, almost fragile with how small he was. But now there was nothing small about him. His shoulders were broad under Kurt's hands, his arms strong and muscled, as Kurt slid the coat down and off of him. As soon as he had access to his shirt, Kurt's fingers flew to the tantalizing buttons that had been catching his attention all night, undoing them as fast as he could without ripping them, to finally tangle his fingers in the chest hair he found underneath.

Blaine wasn't excessively hairy, but just enough to make a difference, to make Kurt's mouth water. He groaned as Kurt raked his fingers down his chest, needing to feel all of him. “Fuck, Kurt…”

That word, that dirty word coming from Blaine's lips had the power to turn Kurt's knees to jelly. Blaine, who has always such a gentleman, who was polite and proper at all times, who always stopped to help old ladies cross the street… knowing he could turn him on enough to make him forget about all that, to make him leave his clean and courteous persona out the door, only caused Kurt to get more and more desperate.

His cock was so hard in his pants that it was turning painful, so Kurt reached down and undid the button, hoping to decrease some of the pressure. He didn't expect Blaine's hazel eyes to go dark at the sight, two orbs of molten gold that seemed to burn his skin and his soul, especially when he looked back up, fixing his gaze in Kurt's own blown blue eyes.

“Let me,” Blaine murmured in the roughest voice Kurt had ever heard from him.

Kurt nodded breathlessly, as Blaine reached into his pants and traced a finger over the bulge straining the tight boxer briefs. When his nail caught slightly on the ridge, Kurt moaned brokenly, bucking up, asking for more without any words. Blaine looked at him for a moment, searching for confirmation silently, and Kurt bit his lip and nodded once more, unable to talk.

Blaine pushed his pants down until they were pooling around his feet. Kurt clumsily kicked his shoes off to take them off, already distracted with how deliciously Blaine was touching him – he was being so careful, so slow, still tracing the outline of his erection through the fabric, making the moment last longer, as if Kurt wasn't going crazy already.

Just when Kurt thought Blaine would torture him for the rest of the night, he hooked his thumbs on the elastic of Kurt's underwear and dragged it down, freeing his cock. The little gasp he let out at the sight of Kurt's erection, red and curved towards his stomach, with a little pearl of pre-come peeking from the slit, elicit desire to wash over Kurt intensely. He grabbed Blaine's shoulders, pulling him slightly, trying to ask for something he couldn't put into words.

Blaine understood perfectly, just like he had always understood him. His fingers were suddenly wrapped around Kurt's cock, stroking experimentally and ripping desperate little moans from him, who couldn't stop from thrusting into his loose fist, needing more. Blaine ran the pad of his thumb over the head, gathering the moist there and spreading it over his shaft.

“God, you're perfect,” Blaine whispered, mesmerized. He licked his lips, looking down at his hand, watching Kurt's cock as it slid through it. “I've always known you'd be perfect, but… fuck, Kurt, this is so…”

“Please,” Kurt begged, feeling so close to the edge already. “More, Blaine. I need more…”

Hearing Kurt beg him like that seemed to ignite a fire inside of Blaine, the kind of flame he couldn't tame, control or put out. He placed his hands on the back of Kurt's thighs and lifted him up, pressing against the door and making him wrap his legs around his waist. Kurt almost squeaked in surprise, but he was too far gone to even care about what was going on. Watching Blaine's muscles flex as he held him up made him throw his head back against the door and moan with reckless abandon.

Blaine brought one hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. “Hold on tight,” he whispered against his lips, and Kurt melted for the millionth time in less than twenty minutes.

“You too,” Kurt mumbled, his voice so rough with arousal that it was barely recognizable. He reached down with one hand, using the other to hold himself on Blaine's shoulder, and unbutton his pants, the sound of the zipper too loud in the otherwise quite apartment, only accompanied by their ragged breaths. “Shit, Blaine…”

Blaine's cock was a little shorter but just as thick as Kurt's, and Kurt's mouth watered once more, wishing he could just drop to his knees and put him in between his lips, swirl his tongue around the head and taste Blaine where he had never tasted him before. But his fantasies flew out the window when Blaine aligned their cocks instead, before he began to thrust relentlessly against him.

Kurt gasped, feeling hot all over, knowing he wouldn't last long. He was ready to be pushed over the edge any moment now. “Yes, yes…”

“Like that?” Blaine asked, and he looked completely undone with his shirt partially opened and his pants pushed aside carelessly. Kurt had never seen him like this.

“More. Harder. I'm so close, Blaine…” Kurt's head thumped against the door, and he moved his hips tentatively, not wanting to send both of them to the floor if Blaine didn't have a good enough grip on him.

Blaine groaned, spurred by Kurt's arousal, and grabbed both of his cocks in his hand. His fingers weren't long enough to close around both of them, but it felt fantastic anyway, if the long moan that escaped Kurt's throat was any indication. He kissed down Kurt's neck, lapping at his pulse point and biting slightly when Kurt moaned again in appreciation.

Kurt felt himself spiraling down into sheer pleasure, and before he could warn Blaine, he was coming hard over his hand, his cock, their stomachs. The long ropes of come seemed to be never-ending, some falling to the floor, and one even reaching Blaine's chin. He couldn't remember the last time he had come so intensely, but despite how amazing it was, his cock remained hard and wanting even when he was finished shaking through his orgasm.

Blaine licked his lips at the sight, and Kurt reached lazily to clean the come on his chin. Blaine caught his hand before he could move it away and sucked his finger into his mouth, cleaning it with his tongue.

“Okay?” Blaine asked, and Kurt wasn't sure exactly what he meant, but he nodded.

Kurt bucked up again, looking for more. “Don't' stop.”

“Shit, Kurt…” Blaine dropped his head on Kurt's shoulder and grinded against him for a moment, leaving pre-come on Kurt's thighs and hip. “Bedroom?” He suggested, sounding a little unsure.

“Yes,” Kurt replied in a heartbeat. He tugged at Blaine's clothes in frustration. “These need to go right now…”

“We'll get there, sweetheart,” Blaine chuckled, and it was such a hoarse laughter, that the sound made a shiver ran down Kurt's spine, making his cock twitch.

Instead of putting Kurt back down on the floor, he held him even tighter, and Kurt wrapped his arms around his neck, holding on for dear life, as Blaine carried him across the living room and towards his bedroom.

It was a very small distance, but it was so much more than that, so much more than just a few steps towards a bed. It was a road they couldn't return from, but they were too lost in their passion to realize that.

*

It was weird how natural it felt – so natural, in fact, that they never even thought of stopping. Blaine kissed down Kurt's body eagerly, and when Kurt begged him to fuck him, he almost came all over the sheets completely untouched.

Having Kurt spread over his bed, arching up to take his fingers deeper was one of the most erotic things Blaine had ever seen. He had to distract himself with kisses here and there – kisses on the crease of his thigh, kisses on his collarbones, kisses around his nipples to drive Kurt a little bit more crazy – but at the same time, he didn't want to miss a single second of this, because the sounds Kurt was producing were too delicious too miss. Each sigh, each moan, each grunt seemed to travel straight to Blaine's cock, and by the time Kurt was properly stretched, he was so hard he thought he might be about to pass out.

Kurt grabbed his arm and tugged him down on top of him, kissing him desperately, his tongue quickly slipping into Blaine's mouth to caress his own. “Come on. Now, please…”

“Okay,” Blaine nodded, and the softness in his voice was completely out of place in that moment. He grabbed his cock and lined it up with Kurt's entrance, as Kurt wrapped his legs around him to give him a better angle.

Being inside of Kurt was completely surreal. Blaine had had his fair share of sex, but he had never felt such a deep emotional connection with anyone else, not the kind he shared with Kurt. He had to stop once he bottomed out, ignoring Kurt's mewls for a moment, who was begging him to move. His heart was beating so hard, he thought he may be about to have a heart attack.

Kurt was demanding in bed – more, harder, faster, oh god right there, don't stop – but the way he framed Blaine's face in his hands and kissed every inch of skin he was able to reach added a certain tenderness to the scene that would have been completely disconcerting if either of them had been capable of thinking clearly.

Blaine's hips moved mercilessly, driving him into Kurt deeper and deeper. Kurt showed his appreciation and approval moaning out loud, arching his back off the bed to get closer and screaming Blaine's name whenever he brushed against his prostate. Blaine was drunk on how sinful and beautiful Kurt was like this.

He couldn't wait to see Kurt come again. The way his jaw went slack and his eyes slid closed, made him look vulnerable and innocent, when Blaine knew perfectly how strong and level-headed Kurt truly was. Seeing him drop his barriers when he was having sex was a privilege he would treasure for the rest of his life.

Kurt's breathing turned erratic, and he rocked back onto Blaine's cock desperately, as if no matter how deep Blaine went, it would never be enough. “Blaine, god…”

“Are you close?” Blaine asked, lips brushing over the curve of Kurt's shoulder.

“Yes,” Kurt whined, tilting his hips up.

Blaine moved his hand between their bodies until he could wrap his fingers around Kurt's erection. He jerked it, wishing he could keep an even rhythm, but he was tittering on the edge and ready to fall.

Kurt cried out when his orgasm finally hit him, and it seemed to last forever. Blaine watched him shake and arch underneath him, felt him clench around him, and listened to the amazing moans that echoed against the walls. He could feel his come coating his stomach and chest, the stickiness of it on his skin.

It was heaven, and definitely enough to get him right where he needed to get to, as well.

Blaine wrapped his arms tightly around Kurt as he came, crying out his release against the crook of his neck. The scent of Kurt's sweaty skin and his cologne was all around him, and he never wanted to move. He dropped a few lazy kisses there, trying to get his breathing back to normal.

Kurt's hands were clutching his back loosely, as if he lacked strength to hold on any tighter. Blaine could feel him slipping into unconsciousness already, so he forced himself to pull away and find something to clean their come-stained skin and the slickness of lube from between Kurt's legs.

Kurt hummed in contentment when Blaine ran a wet washcloth over his stomach, turning to nuzzle into the pillow. “Just get back to bed…”

Blaine chuckled. “Yes, dear.”

He slotted himself against Kurt's back, tracing the knots of his spine with the tip of his nose, and allowing sleep to take over him.

There was a smile on both of their faces, and for that little moment in time, everything seemed to be right in the world.

*

When Kurt woke up, his limbs were loose and he could feel the sweet warmth of a body pressed against his back. There was an arm wrapped possessively around his stomach and tender little kisses being pressed lazily on the back of his neck and shoulders. Behind his closed eyelids, he could perceive the light of the new day, and he sighed contentedly, unable to hold back a smile.

One of the kisses turned into a playful bite that made him giggle.

“Mm, stop it, Mark!” He mumbled sleepily.

The arm around him tensed, and the beautiful warmth pressed against him disappeared in just a matter of seconds. Kurt blinked his eyes open in confusion.

And then the events of the past night hit him like a ton of bricks.

He wasn't in his own apartment. He was in Blaine's bed. He was naked in Blaine's bed.

“Oh no,” he muttered breathlessly. He pulled the sheet against his chest as he sat up abruptly, feeling the tale-tell soreness in his ass as he did so. “Oh no, shit, shit, fuck!”

Blaine was standing by the bed, staring at him with wide, sad eyes. He was naked – shamelessly so – and he shouldn't have been allowed to look as vulnerable as he did then. It was almost pathetic.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, reaching a hand towards Kurt. “Sweetheart. It's okay. You don't have to…”

“We had sex,” Kurt said, as if stating the obvious would change anything.

“Yes, we did,” Blaine replied helplessly, and his hazel eyes were pleading, fixed on Kurt and waiting for him to understand. But what had happened between them couldn't be understood – it was such a mess.

“Oh god,” Kurt whined, covering his face with his hands. “Oh god, why did I do this? Why did I have to ruin everything? And with my best friend. My husband hasn't even been dead for four months and I've already hooked up with someone else. With my best friend. Oh my god, I'm gonna be sick…”

“No, no, hey…” Blaine muttered in a sweet voice, crawling over the bed to get to him. He kneeled in front of Kurt and gently removed his hands from his face. “Kurt. Kurt, come on, just look at me.”

“What the hell did I do?” Kurt sobbed desperately. “You're my best friend…”

“Sweetheart, please.” Blaine's heart broke when he saw how devastated Kurt was. He rested his forehead against Kurt's. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too,” Kurt said miserably.

Blaine pulled away, frowning. “No. No, you don't understand. Listen to me, Kurt,” he pleaded. His eyes burned right into Kurt's, begging him to really listen to what he was about to say. “I love you.”

Kurt looked completely puzzled for a moment, but once realization dawned, he went pale and pulled away from him. “Blaine…” he said warily.

“Please, don't… I know these past few months have been terrible for you,” Blaine held his hands up, like a prey trying to calm a wild beast. “But what we did… Kurt, you can't regret that. You can't regret anything that we share…”

“Blaine, for the love of god, have you lost your mind?” Kurt exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “You can't say these things! What do you even want from me?”

Blaine pulled away. He tugged on one of the blankets on the bed and wrapped it around himself. He looked away, unable to glance at Kurt directly, but Kurt could still see the pain building in his eyes. “Why the hell did you sleep with me? You kissed me, Kurt. You weren't drunk. You were completely conscious. So why are you making me feel like I took advantage of you?”

“You can't possibly think I wanted this, Blaine!” Kurt roared, and Blaine took a step back, a horrified look taking over his face.

“You… Kurt, you can't tell me… you can't accuse me…” He swallowed, visibly fighting the tears.

“What makes you think I wanted this, Blaine?” Kurt screamed, the anger taking over him once again. He could feel it invading every cell in his body, pouring out of every pore, and felt helpless with it. He couldn't control it. “My husband's dead! Mark's dead! He's the only one for me, and I can't have him! I've been alone for almost four months now, and I miss him like fucking crazy! I want him!”

Blaine wiped the tears trailing down his cheeks furiously. “So what, you thought you would get me to fuck you, and maybe that would help you feel less lonely? Or didn't you just think at all, Kurt? Did you stop and think for just one second?”

Kurt shook his head vehemently. “I have to go.”

He got out of bed, wrapping the sheet around himself and walking out of the bedroom in search of his clothes, still scattered near the front door.

“You can't just leave!” Blaine exclaimed, going after him.

“What the hell do you want me to say, Blaine?” Kurt turned back to face him, and the fire in his eyes could have burnt the building down.

Blaine gaped at him, completely perplexed. “I just told you I love you. Does that mean nothing to you?”

Kurt got dressed hastily. “Blaine, just… don't make this any harder than it already is.”

He was having trouble breathing. He couldn't stay here. He needed to go home, take some distance, clear his head. He couldn't do that when Blaine was standing there, looking at him like he didn't recognize him, like Kurt had just stepped all over his hopes and dreams.

He couldn't stand seeing Blaine so disappointed in him, when he was already disappointed in himself enough.

“Please don't go,” Blaine begged brokenly. “We need to talk about this. We can't just… you're my best friend, Kurt.”

But Kurt just shook his head once more. Words wouldn't be enough. Words wouldn't justify anything. Not right now, at least. Whatever he said would only make things worse.

So Kurt threw his coat on carelessly and walked out of Blaine's apartment, with his hair disheveled and hickeys littered down the column of his neck. He ran down the stairs and out to the street as if he was being chased by some kind of monster, but deep down inside, Kurt felt like the only monster was him.

And he knew that there was no way to escape that.

*