Part 6a

Even though he had slid the box with the ring into the back of a drawer filled with clothes of his he knew Kurt would never touch, let alone wear, Blaine could still feel its presence as if it were a lead weight pulling him down. Cooper had given it to him, fresh from the jeweler, on Thursday after their meetings. It had taken less than the promised week to craft, and Blaine couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

He had woken up early that morning to make breakfast and to try to wake his brain up enough to tell Kurt everything.

Now that he had the ring, Blaine couldn't justify waiting any longer to himself. In the three days since Coop had handed him the small box the words had been harder and harder to fight. And there was a sourness growing in the pit of his stomach.

He wanted to tell Kurt. It wasn't fair to keep this from him. Any of it.

But telling him would mean he would need to know everything. Friday night (without Kurt at dinner due to work things) had ended with Blaine breaking—it was unfair to Kurt, he deserved to be free to have someone else. Cooper had gotten him calmed back down enough to take the phone away and to reassure him that Kurt obviously loved him and would listen to him.

Blaine knew it would have to be soon.

So, earlier than normal, Blaine had padded into the kitchen to fix breakfast and have a cup of coffee so it would be ready when Kurt would get up. He tried to get his sleep-jumbled into some semblance of an order.

He had not, however, accounted for everything. He had not expected it to happen it the way it did. His goal of making breakfast and thinking did not, no matter how hard he tried, work. He simply was incapable of thinking in the morning past fixing coffee and scrounging up breakfast. Kurt had awoken with the sounds of the coffee pot finishing and swept in, handing Blaine his cup and telling him to sit while he bustled about making breakfast.

Blaine idly stirred his coffee, sitting slumped at the table while Kurt did his Sunday crossword puzzle. Kurt's voice was a pleasant hum in the background—he had long stopped hoping for Blaine's help, but would still talk his way through the puzzle.

Blaine was just…content. He looked at Kurt, hair mussed from sleep, frowning slightly at the crossword in front of him, free hand running up and down the side of his coffee cup. Blaine could feel his love for that man and what they had bubbling up and overflowing, overwhelming and he couldn't remember life before this feeling. He sighed, imagining saying the words. "I love you."

Bright blue eyes snapped to his, questioning and…something else. Oh…oh…oh. Shit. And fuck. And cock. He cleared his throat and breathed deeply, a failed attempt at steadying himself as he answered the question in those piercing eyes. "I love you."

Kurt's face lit up at the repetition, smile uncontained. Paper set down softly, he leaned across the table, taking Blaine's hand between his own. Gently, so gently, as if he thought Blaine would be startled, Kurt lifted his hand in his own to his mouth, brushing his lips across Blaine's knuckles. Blinking blankly, heart pounding in his ears, Blaine searched Kurt's face. A flush pinked his cheeks, a happy brightness in his eyes. He took a deep breath and Blaine breathed with him, waiting for his response. "I…I love you too. I am not just saying it because you did. I, Kurt Hummel, love you, Blaine Anderson."

Unbidden guilt wrenched at his insides, twisting painfully.

He didn't doubt Kurt. Blaine was petrified that Kurt would take his words and run when he learned the whole truth of Blaine. He wouldn't fault him. But he would grieve.

And he had to offer Kurt the chance to leave.

"Before you say that, Kurt…I have something I need to tell you." He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat.

"Blaine." He lowered their still-clasped hands to the table, squeezing reassuringly. "There is nothing save your being a serial killer that will change how I feel about you." Blaine felt his heart drop. It must have shown on his face because Kurt squeezed his hand again as he continued, voice a little higher than this time. "And even then, as long as you don't tell me where the bodies are buried, I won't turn you in."

Blaine closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to center himself for what he had to say next. "How much do you know about Cosa Nostra?"

Kurt frowned, obviously confused. "Um. Very little. It's the Sicilian Mafia in America, led by five central families." Blaine snuck another peek at Kurt's face, still twisted with confusion. "But I don't understand…"

"Do you…fuck…do you know the names of the families?"

"Not off the top of my head, but I might recognize them. Blaine?" Kurt looked a little wan and Blaine didn't feel much better. The bottom of his stomach felt like it had run off with his heart.

"Anderson is my mother's maiden name. My father's last name is Genovese." He pulled his hands back to mask the shaking, giving himself a moment to muster the courage to look at Kurt.

"So that makes you…?"

"Third in command of the Genovese family. And…I won't blame you if you decide it's too much and you want out. I'm not going to stop you from leaving." Blaine could feel his heart breaking as he offered the option. "But if you ever felt a fraction of what I feel for you please don't run to the cops. Don't tell anyone."

"Do you…" Kurt's voice was high and small, unsure and Blaine saw tears to match his own in Kurt's eyes. "Do you want me to go? Then why did you…"

"FUCK." The chair clattered to the floor as Blaine stood up too quickly, running his fingers roughly through his hair. "I'm doing this all wrong." He wasn't aware that he was moving until he was in front of his dresser, throwing clothes out until his hand closed around the box.

Kurt, a pale specter in the door, stepped aside and followed where Blaine led to the couch. "Blaine, honey, I need you to breathe." Kurt spoke calmly and softly, somehow still in control. "Can you breathe with me?" Blaine realized dimly that his breath was coming in short pants, quickly approaching hyperventilation. The part of him that was convinced Kurt wouldn't leave him wanted to congratulate him for trying to get him to breathe again. The part that wasn't convinced wished Kurt would leave him to pass out so he could not be aware while he gathered his things and left.

When his breathing had steadied he turned to face Kurt. "I am the consigliore of the Genovese crime family. My father and brother are boss and underboss respectively. I was told to be careful of who I love because loving me can be a death sentence. I was never going to fall in love. And then I met you. And I love you." The lump in his throat grew as he unclenched his fist from the box. "And, even knowing all of that and what it could mean for you, if you still want to be with me, I'd like for you to wear this."

The box flipped open easily, revealing the plain black ring. "It's a family ring." Kurt took the box from his hands, something flickering across his face, too fast for Blaine to read. "Just like being with me, it's a double edged sword, making you a target and keeping you safe." He struggled to swallow around the tightness and the lump. "But I'd like you to."

Kurt was silent, turning the ring around in his hands, that emotion flashing across his face again.

"Please…" His voice cracked over the word. He hated how pitiful he sounded, desperate for any answer. It was as if he was holding out his heart in his hands, offering it to Kurt. And in a way he was. He felt his hands and his bottom lip shake because he had never been more scared. He knew that Kurt is it for him and he was just giving Kurt what is already his—this just made it visible.

Silent seconds marked by the clock on the wall ticked by and Blaine found himself praying that Kurt wouldn't break him because he could. There would be no next love for him. If Kurt didn't want his heart it wouldn't matter much. It wouldn't be good to anyone after this love. In a way, then, he has nothing to lose.

And yet, as a minute of silence passed, it felt like he could lose everything. "Please. Answer me. Tell me you still want me or tell me you don't and you'll never hear from me again. But please say something."

Blaine's heart stopped as, in measured movements, Kurt met his eyes, slid the ring onto his finger, and set the box down. Still moving slowly, which was good for Blaine, who couldn't believe his eyes, Kurt turned on the couch to face him. Blaine fought the urge to close his eyes as a hand cupped his face. "The man who plays the piano or the man in the Mafia, I don't care. I love you both ways, no matter what." Crowding into Blaine's personal space, Kurt threw his arms around him, pulling him in tight.

The sob that Blaine had been trying to hold back burst from him, a pure release of all the pent up emotion he'd been carrying with him. Kurt loved him. He would have sung if it hadn't been for the tears and sobs clogging his throat. He settled on clutching Kurt tightly to him, the life preserver keeping him afloat.

Their combined breath matched and slowed, until they had relaxed into each other. Feeling steady enough to sit slightly separated from Kurt, he pulled back. Kurt met his watery smile with one of his own.

His. The beautiful, amazing man sitting next to him was his. And he was someone's. They had done the possessive/you're-finally-mine-so-I'm-going-to-mark-you sex the week before. But this? This was different. This was more than he had ever felt at once.

Laughing, probably nearing hysterics, Blaine captured Kurt's lips with his own. The kiss was sweet and wet and perfect. Still reeling from the emotional whiplash, he pulled Kurt in closer, guiding him to perch astride his hips. Seemingly automatically, Kurt's arms draped themselves over Blaine's shoulders, fingers toying with the curls at the nape of his neck and sending pleasant shivers down his spine.

His own fingers tightened their gasp of Kurt's hips when a shy tongue traced his bottom lip. Kurt's moan reverberated through him, becoming his own when he opened to Kurt. Their tongues met and twined languidly.

Some minutes in, Kurt's hand slid down Blaine's chest, catching on a nipple before moving lower to rest and rub over his tattoo. His mouth followed suit, nipping and sucking at Blaine's pulse. One particularly hard suck made Blaine's hips buck off the couch and into Kurt, causing both to groan low for a whole new reason.

While still slow, the kisses and touches turned hotter, more hungry. Blaine dragged Kurt back to him, their mouths meeting already open. Blaine let Kurt control the kiss, muffled groans trying to be heard as Kurt licked across the roof of his mouth, pulled back to nip at his lips, before diving back in, all while lazily grinding his hips into Blaine's.

Their breath was coming in short pants when Kurt sat back, tracing designs on Blaine's chest and rested their foreheads together. The eyes that met his were lust-blown and full of love.

Somehow, Blaine found his voice, rough and wrecked already. "Make me yours, please. I've been my family's for so long I want to be yours and only yours."

Kurt was already nodding before he finished, swallowing Blaine's words as their lips met again and again. "You're mine and I'm yours." Blaine nodded quickly before he could stop himself, blushing at Kurt's chuckle. Kurt's nose rubbed his before he sat up straighter. "I love you, from the top of your head"—he dotted a kiss there—"to the bottoms of your feet,"—his jaw dropped as Kurt twisted to tickle there—"and everything in between, all that you are and all that you have been and can be, with all that I am and with all the love that I have to give."

The tears Blaine had finally gotten under control leaked out again, sliding silently down his face. Kurt leaned in and kissed each away. Blaine's heart pounded with the realization of what he was going to ask. "Show me?" His voice was small and pleading, hoping desperately Kurt would be strong enough for the both of them.

Kurt smiled at him, warm hands on Blaine's face tilting up to meet Kurt's. Warm and sweet and still damp from their tears. Blaine relaxed and breathed into Kurt, letting him take over. Kurt explored Blaine's mouth and Blaine let him, pliant under him. Heat, low embers ready to be kindled into life, moved through Blaine everywhere Kurt touched. There was no urgency in his hands or his mouth, and Blaine was happy to let Kurt do as he wished at his own pace. If Kurt wanted slow, Blaine wanted slow.

A whimper fell from his mouth when Kurt drew back and stood up, tugging Blaine up with him. "Please." Blaine didn't know what he was asking for, but Kurt might so he asked without thinking.

"Shhh. I've got you." Kurt led the way back into Blaine's bedroom, ignoring the clothes strewn over the floor to settle Blaine on the bed.

Blaine sighed as Kurt covered him, weight resting off of him, the kissing continuing from where they had left it on the couch. Easing them both into it, the kisses turned dirtier and needier without Blaine noticing until his hands were fisted hard in Kurt's shirt and Kurt was biting insistently at his lips. The embers under his skin sparked brighter and hotter every time and everywhere Kurt touched him.

A switch flipped in him, the need coming full force when Kurt coaxed Blaine's tongue into his own mouth and then sucked, a pull he could feel from his now fully hard length straining at his boxers. Kurt sucked again and ground down against Blaine where he could feel an answering hardness.

Blaine didn't want the emotions he was feeling, the ones that had brought tears to his eyes and a quaver to his lip. Those hurt, the intensity all-consuming, filling him up and swallowing him whole. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to rut against each other to escape those emotions, frotting and coming in their underwear like teens, but Kurt was having none of that. Easing off, he changed tactics and seemed hell-bent on making Blaine endure them, forcing him to walk through the (hopefully) cathartic fire.

"Uh-uh. You want to feel cherished and mine. I am doing this my way. Can you lay still or do you need me to tie you down?" The question was asked half-teasing, but the suggestion still send a current down his body, eyes rolling into the back of his head and a soft moan breaking free.

"No. Wait. Before you lay down…" Hands on his sides urged him off the bed long enough to strip free his shirt. Above him, Kurt groaned and Blaine flushed at the attention. "Blaine, you are gorgeous." He wasn't. He was fit, but he wouldn't call himself gorgeous. Starting at his temple and working his way down, Kurt kissed and nuzzled every newly revealed bit of Blaine, sucking lightly on fingers and pulse points before kissing them, murmuring praise about Blaine. Each new brush of lips against his overheating skin sent a trickle of heat to pool at the base of his spine and another drop of unadulterated feeling to join the others. Blaine could only lay there and whimper and he was fine with that.

At the back of his mind, creeping steadily forward with each word and kiss from Kurt's mouth, those emotions he would rather smother surged forward before cresting.

And all of the physical—the sparks of arousal from the kisses and Kurt's hard length pressing against his thigh—was eclipsed by the feelings of love and being cherished pouring onto him. Each brush of skin on skin was nice and pleasant and he knew he was aroused, but it didn't seem as important as Kurt and him, each other's finally. Not as important as being accepted despite his family baggage. Not as important as being accepted for just being himself, no pretenses or falsehoods.

Kurt undressed them both with the same care, humming praise as he licked over Blaine, sending more shivers up and down his spine, and then shifted them up the bed. He whimpered when Kurt left him panting for a moment before returning with the necessary supplies. The bottle clicked open and they both groaned as slick fingers stroked and teased the tight ring, easing Blaine open.

Their mouths found each other again, kissing deep and slow, Blaine's breath hitching and sighing as another finger gained entrance. As the burn faded he whimpered for more and Kurt obliged, tongue and fingers moving in synch, crooking and seeking until Blaine broke the kiss to cry out.

A finger later, Blaine nodded at Kurt, who shifted them again, sitting upright against the headboard and reaching for the foil wrapper carelessly dropped on the bed.

"Can we..not? I want to feel you. Just you." Blaine didn't think he had ever needed anything more than he needed that, to remove that last barrier between them. Blaine's mouth went dry when Kurt nodded and dropped the condom, hissing as he slicked himself up with the cold lube.

When Kurt was ready, Blaine settled himself in his lap, holding Kurt's length steady as he lowered himself down slowly, relishing the burn of the stretch until he was fully seated. Kurt was burning inside him, the lack of latex more pronounced than he would have expected. It was personal in a way he couldn't have prepared himself for and that brought unbidden tears to his eyes.

How could anyone think this was wrong or dirty or shameful? The feeling of Kurt inside him, surrounding him with arms and lips and love? That couldn't be dirty. It was beautiful. It was love.

Tenderly, Blaine kissed Kurt as he started to move, heart aching. He wanted this forever. He would never want anything else if he could always feel this. Strong arms hugged him closer, pressing him against Kurt's chest, broad and warm and sweat-slick. Hands, a firm, grounding touch, rubbed wide circles on his back and sides, keeping him as close as possible.

They traded "I love you"s as Blaine's rocking picked up speed, a hand snaking between their torsos to stroke where Blaine rested hard and heavy between them. Kurt mouthed hot kisses along Blaine's arched neck as his hand twisted under the crown, Blaine keening brokenly as Kurt murmured his love into Blaine's neck.

Urging Kurt back up, Blaine cupped Kurt's cheek with one hand and let the other wander aimlessly, running over slick skin and muscle, drawing his own curses and shivers. The endearments were broken by pants and kisses as they moved faster, urging themselves towards the edge.

One last "I'm yours" pushed Blaine over. He cried out, clutching at every part of Kurt he was touching, spilling between them as Kurt stilled under him. Hot, wet, intimate, Kurt pulsed inside him, breath catching in his throat as his hips thrust up weakly and nails bit into Blaine's back.

This was love, sharing yourself with someone so completely, letting yourself fall and knowing that you'll be caught. His eyes were wet again and he could feel the tears leaving tracks down his face but he didn't care anymore. He lifted his hand to Kurt's cheek and wiped away the tears, smiling in answer to Kurt's. Kurt did the same to him, watery smiles and uneven breaths shared. They met each other's lips in the middle, both having moved at the same time. Even the tongue that slipped in at the end was so light and loving it hurt.

The stickiness eventually became too much, and gentle hands eased Blaine over to lay on his side and he watched Kurt get up, eyes tracking his movements to the bathroom and back, damp washcloth in his hands. He hadn't been worried that Kurt wouldn't return. The tears and love in his eyes matched Blaine's. With the same tenderness, Kurt wiped them both clean and set the washcloth aside.

Blaine clung to Kurt when he returned, entwining their bodies until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Head pillowed on Kurt's chest with Kurt's arms wrapping him tightly, Blaine whispered one word as he drifted off, hearing the same in response and feeling the kiss on his head just before sleep took him.

"Yours."