Kurt comes inside Blaine. It should be a simple thing, really. That was the goal and the expectation when Blaine brought Kurt up to his room, but its not a simple thing for Blaine at all.

When it happens, Blaine is on his belly; his duvet is wadded up under his hips, only half pulled back beneath him. His dick is caught up in one of its folds. (They didnt start this way, but its how they've ended up.) Kurt's body, sweltering hot in motion, heavy in its demands, presses and rocks him into the mattress, and Kurt's cock is an irrefutable physical fact: wedging him open, filling him up, and fastening him in place.

Blaine's eyes are shut, but his mouth is open, pressed against the fine, dry cotton of his bottom sheet. Kurt's lips rove along his cheek and neck and shoulder, nipping and sucking greedily between mumbled endearments and praise, the meanings of which Blaine can only infer from the tone in which they're delivered. Some fragments of English make it through though: "so good", and, "so beautiful", and, "you are so fantastic, Blaine."

("You must tell me if anything is bad. I want it to be pleasing for you," Kurt had said at the beginning.)

Pleasing. It's not a word Blaine would have chosen, but it is the right word: to bring pleasure, sensual gratification. The longer Kurt fucks him—whether its the slow searing drag as Kurt starts, or the quick bright shock as the intensity of feeling grows—the better it gets. Blaine is entirely pleased; he wants to feel like this forever.

Kurt's climax overwhelms Blaine in a way he never anticipated. Experiencing this closeness with Kurt, moving inside him, over him, saturating him with his scent and sweat and presence. Kurt, growing hotter—frantic almost—as he falls from a considerate and controlled lover into a rutting, nonverbal human animal. Its like Kurts urgency bleeds right into Blaine, for he comes again too, in a surge of irresistible ecstasy just moments after Kurt. Kurts still buried deep inside him, still an unforgiving wide stretch, but motionless now. Blaine swivels his hips down against the soft friction of his duvet, gluts himself back on the hot throb of his body strained so tight around Kurt's cock, and its enough.

The noise Kurt makes as Blaines body seizes around him will linger in Blaines memory for long months ahead. (Hell find himself sitting, dazed, in the front row of his English class, remembering Kurts voice and flushing hot, unable to answer whatever question the teacher has just put to him.)

.

Loose-limbed and unselfconscious, they lie naked together after. The condom is in the trash, Blaine's duvet is set aside for laundering, and the window is cracked open to let in a fresh breath of the night air. Kurt is sweetly attentive, petting Blaines cooling skin and asking, "how are you?" and, "did you enjoy it?" and, "I hope nothing hurts?"

Blaine reassures Kurt with each reply: "Im perfect," and, "it was amazing, Kurt, you felt so good," and, "nothing hurts at all, everythings wonderful." But he struggles to begin a sentence of his own, to ask Kurt how he is. Theres a feeling swelling in Blaines chest, as if his heart itself is inflating. When he tries to speak, his throat closes and tears prick behind his eyes.

"What is it?" Kurt asks. Idly he plays with Blaines hair where its come loose into short, sweat damp ringlets. His head is pillowed near, facing Blaine, so of course he notices.

"I dont know," Blaine says; he winces at the twist of too much emotion in his voice. "I dont know," he repeats in a whisper.

"But youre not hurt?" Kurts brow is creased with concern, the corners of his lips down-turned. He reaches down for Blaines hand, strokes along the long bones of Blaines fingers, rubs tiny circles over each knuckle.

Blaine shakes his head.

"How are you feeling? Try to tell me?"

Kurts worry only expands the feeling in Blaines chest. "Ill try," Blaine says.

With a shallow smile, Kurt nods and waits.

"When you put your mouth on me and I came inside you?" Blaine says. "That was amazing. And then, just before? When you came inside me...?" His voice gives out on a wisp of breath; the sensation is so recent, so new and startling.

"Oui?" Kurt smiles like theyre sharing a secret.

"I know youve done this with other boys—"

A laugh cuts him off. "Believe me, there are not very many other boys," Kurt says, his smile goes wry, and then soon turns shy. Kurt speaks more softly, "and what we did now together? My dick in your ass. That was... eh... a first time for me also."

"Oh," Blaine says. "I... had no idea, Kurt."

Kurt turns his widening smile into the pillow and closes his eyes. His cheeks are pink, the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"Are you—? I mean, wow. How are you?"

"Je me sens merveilleusement bien. Cétait parfait," Kurt says, opening his eyes again and looking at Blaine, content and candid. "I feel the same as you do. It was perfect."

"You feel the same way?"

"I think so, yes? But... will you tell me more, please?"

Blaine takes a breath. "It was. Um, being with you, like that. It was a... a moment for me, about you. When I felt how you felt because of me, and how I felt because of how you felt. It moved something inside me, you moved something." Blaine takes Kurts hand. "You move me, Kurt."

Kurt frowns in confusion and doesnt reply immediately. Then he glances down and pieces words together haltingly: "It was how we felt ourselves together because I was moving inside you?"

Blaine lets out a soft laugh. "No, not quite. Um?"

Kurt shrugs helplessly and grins apologetically. "Im sorry. I dont understand what youre telling me."

"Dont apologize," Blaine says. "I probably said it wrong. Ill try again."

"Daccord," Kurt says.

"It felt like," Blaine raises his gaze to Kurts. "I'd been waiting forever to feel like that. With someone, but I didn't know until you."

Kurt looks at him, patient and warm and open.

"Um, but not just the physical feeling," Blaine tries to explain. Maybe he should try speaking Kurts language. Maybe that will work better. Blaine doesnt know a lot of French, but he has been learning. He runs through the vocabulary, the syntax. He takes a breath, and he tries. "Je vous cherche..." Blaine starts. He studies Kurts face, hoping he said it correctly.

"Youre looking for me, Blaine? Je suis ici," Kurt replies, still grinning.

"Um, yeah," Blaine says, smiles, and corrects the verb tense. "Je vous ai cherché... pour toujours?"

Kurt bites his lips closed and his eyes squint with amusement and affection.

"Was that wrong?"

"It wasnt... correct. Toujours doesnt mean that way. But I think that I know what youre trying to say to me."

"Can you tell me how to say it right?" Blaine asks. "Sil vous plait?"

"Okay," Kurt says. "First, I want you to use the familiar with me. We are intimates, yes? Use tu."

"Sil te plait?" Blaine says.

"Oui," Kurt says. "Cest mieux."

"Thats better?" Blaine asks, echoing Kurts words in English so he can be sure.

"Yes."

"Okay, so I would say to you this: Je t'ai cherché toute ma vie." Kurt speaks slowly, each word clearly enunciated.

Blaine listens carefully. "Ive looked for you all my life," he says.

"Is that correct?" Kurt asks.

Its close enough. "Oui," Blaine says, and he repeats the French silently to himself to rehearse it. Then holds Kurts gaze steady within his own as he does his best to shape each of the words correctly, with care and perhaps also, Blaine understands, love: "Je t'ai cherché toute ma vie." He adds in English, with a squeeze of Kurts fingers, "And here you are."

Kurts lips part around a swiftly caught breath. "Oui, cest vrai," he murmurs, "pour moi aussi." And he touches Blaines face. "Parfait," he says again, and Blaine leans in to find the shape of the word still clinging to Kurts lips.

Perfect.

.

"Are your eyes still closed?" Blaine asks Kurt as he leads him by the hand into the kitchen. Theyre freshly showered and in their pajamas and dressing gowns. The current plan is to get dessert and then reconsider watching Snow White.

"Yes, Blaine," Kurt says for the third time, with amused exasperation. Its the third time Blaine has asked him the question.

Blaine grins, even though Kurt cant see him. "Sit down here," Blaine instructs, putting Kurts hand on the back of the wooden stool by the island.

"Okay, Im sitting, and I'm not watching you."

"Okay, good… just wait a minute," Blaine says, and he goes to the refrigerator and gets out the cheesecake. Then he gets dessert plates and forks, sets them down gently on the granite counter to mute the clink and clatter.

The cheesecake releases from the springform pan cleanly, and the layers of dark chocolate—the Oreo crumb base, chocolate ganache topping—sandwich the delicate gold of the lemon filling beautifully. Blaine rinses a sharp knife under the hot tap and cuts two wedges.

At the island counter, Kurt sits placidly, eyes closed and a slight, easy smile bowing his lips. "Do I smell something?" he says.

"I dont know," Blaine says. "Do you?"

Kurt pokes his tongue out, and Blaine plates the slices of cheesecake.

"I made you something special," Blaine says, and he sets one plate in front of Kurt. "You cant come to America and not have this."

"I'm curious," Kurt says.

Blaine picks up Kurts fork and carves the tip of the slice off, makes sure to get a good proportion of topping, filling, and base. "Open your mouth?"

One of Kurts eyebrows goes up and he leans back. "Really, Blaine? You want to feed me like I'm a child?"

With a laugh, Blaine holds the forkful of cheesecake near Kurts nose. "No," he says. "Im trying to surprise you. Can you smell it now?"

Kurt inclines his head and sniffs. "Lemon?" Kurt says. "Lemon meringue pie!" he guesses.

"Nope." Blaine lowers the fork. "Okay, fine, open your eyes."

Kurt does so. "Oh, what is it? Cheesecake?"

"Yeah, lemon chocolate, its a family recipe courtesy of my aunt." Blaine passes Kurt the fork.

"I like the sound of that," Kurt says, and he takes a bite. Blaine watches him, waiting with a flutter in his heart for Kurts response.

Its not disappointing. "Oh, mmm," Kurt moans orgasmically. (Blaine knows exactly how that sounds now.) "Oh, Blaine, this is..." Kurt takes another, bigger forkful puts it in his mouth, and Blaine can see him rolling the food over his tongue, savoring it. "Käschtlig," Kurt murmurs around the mouthful.

Blaine doesnt know that one. "Kashtl--?" he inquires.

Kurt makes a noise like ungh and swallows. "It means delicious."

"Another of your grandmothers?"

"Oui." Kurt smiles brightly. It settles warm within Blaine then, the knowledge that they are getting to know one another, despite the culture and language divide. Kurt doesnt seem so foreign to Blaine any longer, but instead familiar somehow, in a way that simply beckons Blaines interest and attention.

"Im glad you like it," he says, and picks up the other plate.

"I do very much. Its magnificent."

They eat in companionable silence for a while. Blaine puts the kettle on for tea.

"May I have the recipe, please, Blaine?" Kurt asks eventually. "I'd like to make this for my family, they'd like it too."

It's an unwelcome shock. A reminder that he has less than six weeks left with Kurt, and the things he worried about at the start of this—all the things that held him back—are going to come to pass. He can feel the joy slip right off his face, leaving him cold and stunned.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks. "What's wrong?"

"I dont want to say goodbye to you," Blaine says. "Its... selfish, but. Im going to miss you so much. I wish you didnt have to leave."

Kurt stands and comes over to where Blaines standing by the sink. His expression is serious when he takes Blaines face between his palms. "Oh, mon chéri, if you believe Im going to say goodbye to you, you are very wrong."

"But—" Blaine bows his head. Kurts hands move to his shoulders and squeeze.

"Yes, its necessary that I go home, but we'll write to each other, use Skype, Twitter. You can come to France and visit me in the summer, maybe? My family will adore you."

"Kurt," Blaine says with a sigh, feels the tension in his shoulders slump into relief.

"Tu es mon meilleur ami, mon amant, mon amour," Kurt says gently but firmly. "Je tai donné mon coeur." His hands skim down Blaine's arms to take both of Blaines hands in his grasp. "That means you are very dear to me, you are dear to my heart."

Blaine smiles and looks back up, blinks back the excess feeling in his eyes. "Me too. I... Oh." The word love flickers so close to Blaine's tongue, but he keeps it contained for now. "You're very dear to me too."

Sweetly Kurt smiles; he takes a deep breath before he speaks again. "I havent said anything to you because I dont wish to... eh, put a jinx on myself. But I have an audition for a school in New York. To attend next year. So I maybe will return to America this autumn."

"Youve applied to schools in New York? Really?" And with that, all the possibilities of a different, better future unfurl in Blaines imagination. A riot of wonderful potential rushes in to overtake his anxieties.

"Just one, but I most want to study there."

"There are a bunch of colleges in New York Im applying to as well," Blaine says. "For next year, of course, but I— Oh my god. Kurt, what if we end up in New York together?"

Kurts smile is brilliant. "It can happen, Blaine."

"Ill do everything I can to get myself there," Blaine says fiercely, holding tightly to Kurts hands. "I promise you. I mean, its been a dream of mine, but with the thought of you there too. I have to go."

"Ill do my best, too," Kurt says. "Ill—as you like to say—kill my audition. Do you think we can win Regionals?"

"We can, yes, This year, with you? I'm sure we can." If the strength of Blaines certainty can make it so, then it will be so.

Kurt's laughter is joyful. "I believe you," Kurt says.

They fall into silence for a few heartbeats, their hands loosely clasped between them.

"So you and me, huh?" Blaine asks. "Well try?"

"You and me," Kurt says. "We will."

.

the end