2.

That same evening, Blaine starts packing. Even though he's not moving in with Kurt until the end of the week, there's no sense not getting a head start on what he can, right? He's wrapping up his old dressage trophies in the Sunday morning comics when, from where it rests on his desk, his phone screen lights up and the soft heartbeat drumming of his ringtone starts.

Blaine reaches over and grabs his phone, stares at the number of an unknown caller just as Freddie Mercury sings, ”Flash! Aa~ah. Ah!” Blaine answers, “Hello?”

“Hi, Blaine?” The voice is new on the end of his phone, but instantly familiar.

“Oh, hey, Kurt,” Blaine says. He shoves the stack of newspapers to the side and sits on his bed. Frowns a little, wondering why Kurt's calling him after nine PM. Hopes it's not because Kurt's changed his mind. “What's up?”

“Um, I wanted to invite you to dinner on Friday,” Kurt says—and before Blaine can reply, he continues, “It's a regular thing, a potluck with some friends at my place. There's usually five or six of us, and I wondered if maybe you'd like to join us on the eve of your moving in? Meet everyone? You can bring a friend if you like.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, pleasantly surprised. “That sounds... really nice. Yes, I'd love to come.”

“Great! If you can, bring a dish—my friend Rachel is vegan, so if you can accommodate that you'll get extra credit, though there's always more than enough for her to eat, so don't stress over it. And it's BYO, so bring whatever you like to drink.”

“Yeah, sure,” Blaine says. “I'm sure I can come up with something. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Great!” Kurt says again, “I'll see you Friday then, 7:30ish?”

“I'll look forward to it,” Blaine says, and then he immediately calls Sam to invite him too—and also ask if he can use the kitchen at the condo Sam shares with some other models in his agency. After that, Blaine goes online, scrolls through vegan recipe blogs to find a suitable summery dish to bring. He decides on a quinoa, black bean, and mango salad that's not much more complicated than putting a bunch of stuff in a bowl.

It turns out to be as pretty as the photograph on the site where he found the recipe. Blaine makes Sam taste test it, and gets two thumbs up. On their way, Sam picks up a peach pie from a local bakery, and they go halves on a six pack of imported cider.

They arrive at Kurt's closer to eight than 7:30, but Kurt invites them in warmly, clasping Sam's hand with a smile and introducing himself.

The open space of Kurt's loft is vibrant. The open windows let in a cooling breeze along with the wash of sodium orange sunset. Conversation and music coalesce into a welcoming jumble.

His friends are louder and more energetic than Blaine expected—or some of them are. Kurt introduces Sam and Blaine to everyone: Mercedes (working on her second studio album with an indy label), Artie (a film student at Brooklyn), Elliott and Dani (members of Kurt's old Madonna cover band—which Blaine is sure must be a story), and finally—

“Rachel Berry,” she says extending a hand to Blaine. She's smaller than Blaine expected her to be, but just as pretty as her photographs. He takes her hand and blinks in astonishment.

“Rachel Berry,” he repeats. “I've heard of you.”

She doesn't seem surprised. “Oh, are you a fan, Blaine? Would you like an autograph?” she asks. “I wouldn't usually on a night off like this, but I'm happy to make an exception for someone as charming as you are.”

“No, it's fine, thank you,” Blaine says with a self-conscious chuckle, and he explains, “It's just that, I'm a student at NYADA. You're kind of...” Blaine doesn't want to say notorious. Notorious for dropping out to play Fanny Brice for the past five years on Broadway? As if that's a bad thing? “The best known not-quite-an-alum there.”

Rachel beams at him. “It's a pleasure to meet a fellow aspiring thespian,” she says, and then she leans in and speaks comic-conspiratorially to him from the side of her mouth. “Is Carmen Tibideaux still a total hard ass?”

With a laugh, Blaine answers a definitive, “Yes, absolutely.”

They make small talk about the school, about its culture and its challenges. Blaine sees Sam has settled in the living room with Dani and Elliott, who's pulled out a guitar. Artie mutes the stereo, and Elliott strums the energetic opening to George Michael's “Faith” and Dani sings, ”Well I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your body!” while Sam nods along and drums on his thighs to add some percussion accompaniment.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen Mercedes lays out food, plates, and cutlery on the island while Kurt carries chairs from the dining room over to supplement the stools at the island.

“Excuse me,” Blaine says to Rachel and he goes to the kitchen to help.

Kurt's smile for him is bright when Blaine joins him in moving the chairs. Seeing Kurt in motion, Blaine takes the opportunity to admire how good Kurt looks tonight in slim white jeans and a clingy turquoise t-shirt sporting a silhouette of a pole-dancing skeleton. Their eye contact sticks for a heartbeat too long. Blaine returns Kurt's smile and glances away with a self-conscious flush. Behind them Elliott and Dani are harmonizing on, ”But I've got to think twice, before I give my heart away.”

After the song and a round of applause, everyone gathers in the kitchen to serve themselves and sit on the stools and chairs scattered around the island while they eat. Blaine perches between Rachel and Sam, listens and watches everyone else. He relaxes into the easy energy and rapport. Sam does a ridiculously over-dramatic impression of Jack Nicholson in “A Few Good Men” that's gets everyone in hysterics. Blaine sees the way Mercedes looks at Sam, more restrained in her laughter but even more charmed in her regard—and Blaine notes the way Sam looks back and hams up his take on Tom Cruise in response.

It's an atmosphere of friendship and camaraderie that Blaine's not yet found in New York, but it's one he's longed for since coming: a community of fellow artists and performers. NYADA is so high pressure and competitive, no one ever relaxes like this together. Opportunities and talent are guarded too fiercely. If every Friday night will be like this? Blaines even more excited to be moving in wtih Kurt tomorrow.

Once the meal is finished, Blaine stays in the kitchen and loads the dishwasher while Kurt covers the leftover food. It's just the two of them, everyone else is in the living room, writing on scraps of paper which Rachel is folding and putting in a an old velvet top hat that Artie holds in his lap. Charades, Kurt tells him, is one of the typical after dinner games. The teams shaping up are Sam, Mercedes, and Artie against Elliott, Dani, and Rachel.

“I was wondering if I might impose upon your generosity tonight,” Kurt asks while Blaine squeezes the dishwasher liquid into its dispenser. Kurt's hand rests warm on the small of his back, and Blaine straightens, curious.

Kurt's gaze is hot and restless, but the twist of his mouth is hesitant and his hand falls away easily.

“Oh,” Blaine says. It floods back to him in a rush, the knowledge of what he's told Kurt he'll be for him. Not just a roommate. Nor simply a friend among many. He's shocked at how quickly he let it slip his mind while enjoying the evening. But he can see Kurt's need, plain in his wide blue eyes, and Blaine cannot ignore it.

Except they're not alone. “Um, what about—?” Blaine asks. He looks back at the living room where Artie's mixing up the papers in the hat.

“They all know,” Kurt says and he twists his fingers together. “It's not unusual for me to duck out for a break.”

“Okay, then,” Blaine says, and he has no idea what exactly he's meant to be doing or saying right now. “What did you have in mind?”

“Something easy,” Kurt says, the line of his shoulders relaxes, and his smile returns a little shy. He untangles his fingers and reaches out again to touch the back of Blaine's knuckles with his fingertips. “Just your hand on me?”

“Yeah, sure” Blaine says. And he follows Kurt to the hall. He's certain the others will be watching them go—he expects cat calls—but when he looks back, no one is staring. Even Sam only flashes him a quick glance and smile.

Kurt leads him all the way to the end of the hall and they go into the bathroom, which Kurt didn't actually show him earlier in the week. It's compact but well-appointed. Slim rectangular tiles line the walls in earthy grays and taupes, timber cabinetry is glossy pale maple, and it's gleaming white porcelain and sleek chrome for the rest. The curvy tub is deep, and the glassed in shower is generous in its proportions.

Kurt locks the door, leans back against it, and lets out a shaky stream of air. He closes his eyes and undoes his belt. The jangle of the buckle is loud in the small space.

For a moment Blaine hesitates, wonders if he should be moving in to kiss Kurt, but he decides no, because that could become confusing. Plus, he's not getting that kind of vibe from Kurt. Blaine rips a couple tissues from the box on the vanity and approaches Kurt where he's propped himself against the closed door. “Here, like this?” Blaine asks.

Kurt cracks open his eyes, and pushes his jeans and underwear down to the top of his thighs. He holds his cock as if offering it to Blaine. “Yeah, this is fine.”

Without any ceremony or attempts at foreplay, Blaine replaces Kurt's hand with his own, curls his fingers around smooth skin and hard heat. He firms his grip and drags his hand up slow. Kurt tips his head back against the door with a clunk, and a relieved moan breaks from his parted lips. “Do you want me to draw it out? Or do you want—?” Blaine breaks off, uncertain.

“I just need to come,” Kurt says, his words are clipped and his lash-shuttered gaze aches with things far more obdurate than desire: resignation and weariness.

“Okay,” Blaine says, and he sets a quicker, even pace with his hand, one that works best for himself when he's trying to get himself off fast: strong pulls that tighten over the head and drag down to nudge Kurt's balls.

“That'll do it,” Kurt says through a slack-mouthed attempt at a smile.

But Blaine doesn't want to simply get the job done. The stretched out line of Kurt's throat tempts him, and he gives in, bends his head near to lightly brush his lips across Kurt's pulse and inhale the mellow woodsy scent of his cologne

“Oh,” Kurt sighs, and brings a hand to Blaine's hair, tightening against the back of Blaine's scalp.

“You smell good,” Blaine says and presses his lips to Kurt's skin. He mouths his way up to the hollow below Kurt's earlobe and runs the wrist of his other hand (still holding the tissues) up Kurt's other arm. “Kurt,” he whispers, because it feels important to say his name. He can't think of anything else to say though, and he doesn't trust himself not to try to kiss Kurt, so he bows his head and looks down. His forehead bumps against Kurt's shoulder with the rhythm of Blaine's hand, and he watches his fist strip up and down Kurt's blood-flushed cock. He makes sure to catch the beading fluid at the crown with a swipe of his thumb.

Soon enough Kurt's trembling hot all over, radiating like a furnace, his whole body is strung taut, bowing into Blaine's touch.

“Close?” Blaine asks, lifts his head and finds Kurt's eyes pinched shut.

“Yeah, I'm going to—”

Instead of moving his other hand down to catch Kurt's ejaculate in the tissues, Blaine drops to a crouch and closes his mouth over Kurt's cock. He sucks eagerly, loose and messy over the head while stroking the shaft fast. Kurt swears, grabs a handful of Blaine's hair, and comes over Blaine's tongue. With a soft groan, Blaine tightens his mouth, sucking to make sure he gets everything, and swallows it all. He pulls off slowly.

“Blaine, oh,” Kurt says and his fingertips press against Blaine's scalp as if Kurt wants to hold him there a little longer. “You're so good, I—” Kurt breaks off with a deep sigh. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Blaine says, gratified by Kurt's relief as much as his praise. Blaine presses his cheek to Kurt's hip, inhales the intimate fragrance of his arousal. Closes his eyes for one slow blink before tipping his head back to look up at Kurt. He cups his hand over Kurt's cock gently; it's beginning to soften. “Do you feel better now?” Blaine asks. “Or will you need another?”

“I'm... “ Kurt raises his eyebrows and exhales a silent laugh. “That was exactly what I needed.” He gives Blaine a fond look and carefully smooths Blaine's hair where he's mussed it up. Then he wipes over Blaine's lip with his thumb. “You just had a little...” Blaine sucks it off Kurt's thumb and Kurt's eyelashes flutter. “I'll make this up to you tomorrow, I promise,” Kurt says.

To which Blaine has no easy reply, just a strange warmth unfurling in his chest. Kurt offers him a hand, and he stands.

They straighten their clothes, freshen up, and catch their breath before heading back out, and by the time they get to the end of the hall, it's as if it didn't even happen. Except for how much more relaxed Kurt is now in his skin, and how hard Blaine is in his pants. And Blaine knows everyone here has an idea of what he just did for Kurt, even if they don't make comment with either word or gesture. When he sits down next to Sam to join the game of Charades, it's a strange thrill—an unkept secret. Blaine doesn't know how to describe the feeling. It's like he's stepped outside himself somehow—or maybe further into himself—and now he's recalibrating.

He looks at Kurt, seated cross-legged on the floor on other side of the steamer trunk, and Blaine's pulse is still heavy between his legs. Kurt looks back, knowing, relieved, and grateful. It's all good.

##

Through his modeling agency Sam knows a guy with a van. It's got more than enough room for Blaine's belongings: his desk chair, electric keyboard and stand, a few framed posters, and several boxes of clothing, books, and knick-knacks. Best of all, Sam's friend Luke accepts payment in beer, which is definitely cheaper than a taxi would be.

At Kurt's building—soon to be his building too—Blaine leaves Sam and Luke to ferry stuff to the freight elevator while he and Kurt cart it from the elevator to the apartment.

It doesn't take long, and Blaine doesn't miss the way Kurt's sending him significant looks already. Blaines starting to be able to see the signs of Kurt's urge growing in his body. His movements become tighter, his hands busier. His smile comes quicker but doesn't linger. And in his eyes, there's that fracture of desperation.

“Hey,” Blaine says to Sam, who's just set the last box down in Blaine's new room. Blaine pulls out his wallet to grab some cash. “Could you and Luke go to that deli on the corner and bring back some sandwiches for lunch?”

Sam glances between Blaine and Kurt, who's occupied himself with making sure the clothes rack is running parallel to the wall. “Sure, yeah,” Sam says, and he takes the cash from Blaine's hand.

“A Reuben for me, please,” Blaine says.

“I'll take turkey and Baby Swiss, no onions?” Kurt adds.

Sam nods, stuffs the cash in his pocket and leaves them alone in the box strewn bedroom.

As soon as Blaine hears the bang of the front door closing, he looks at Kurt and Kurt looks at him. “So, um, do you need—?” Blaine asks.

And Kurt says “Please.”

They have privacy now—and while there's not a lot of time, it should be enough for what Blaine's been thinking about all morning, how it was with Kurt last weekend. Boldly, he asks, “Do you want to fuck me again?”

The question seems to catch with a stutter in Kurt's throat. He blinks and swallows before replying, “Yeah, I... yes.”

So Blaine turns and bends over a stack of boxes while Kurt comes around the bed to join him. While Blaine undoes his belt and fly and pushes his pants down to his knees, Kurt produces a condom and lube from his own trouser pocket.

It's not like the first time. Kurt's quick and rough, and while the frantic demand of Kurt's body is fantastically hot, it's over long before Blaine's close to coming. Kurt withdraws, leaving Blaine half-wound up and gasping.

When Kurt's caught his breath, “Can I something do more for you?” he asks, dragging the pad of his thumb over where he's just left Blaine so raw and hungry.

But Blaine shakes his head, shakes off the arousal buzzing such a high hunger in his body, and pushes himself up to stand. “Um, later?” he says as gently as his dry voice can manage. He looks back at Kurt over his shoulder to reassure. “I don't think we've got enough time left.” He winces as he hitches his jeans back up while his ass is still wet, his cock hard and craving, and his balls throbbing dully. He'll need to shower after lunch. In the meantime, it's kind of amazing, being fucked and left like this: open, used, and wanting. Waiting for later. Knowing later will come.

“I want you to know, that wasn't my attempt at making last night up to you,” Kurt says, tugging his pants back up far enough that he can move. He's careful of the condom still clinging to his dick “I just needed something... fast and dirty. To take the edge off before I went crazy. I took care of myself this morning, and I thought I'd be okay until after lunch, but, um, yeah. Not so much. I'm sorry if--”

“It's okay,” Blaine says. “If anything, I'm looking forward even more to this promised making up.”

Kurt's shoulders settle and he smiles. Then he leans forward and kisses Blaine's cheek, rubs up Blaine's arm. “Me too. Thank you, Blaine.” Then he turns and disappears down the hall to the bathroom.

Sam returns while Kurt's still cleaning up. Blaine goes out to meet him, washes his hands, and helps Sam unpack lunch to the counter. He's dazed and on edge, but he does his best to behave normally. He successfully finds the plates, and remembers which drawer holds the cutlery.

“Luke's headed off already,” Sam says. “So I was thinking I'd take the train back after lunch?”

Blaine watches Sam unwrap a pastrami sandwich from its paper. “Sure,” he says on autopilot. “Cool.”

“You'll be okay?” Sam asks. “I can stay if you want some help unpacking those boxes.”

The uncertainty in Sam's tone pulls Blaine's attention. He blinks and tries to make sense of it. “Are you worried about me?”

“No,” Sam says quickly. “No. Kurt seems nice. I'm just worried I'm being a third wheel, you know?”

Oh. Blaine frowns and puts the turkey and Baby Swiss on a plate for Kurt. “Kurt's not my boyfriend,” Blaine says.

“I know, but it's still, like, you guys will want some privacy, right? So I don't want to just hang around.”

Blaine opens his mouth to respond with a reflexive reassurance when Kurt comes back out, and Blaine wonders what he might've overheard.

Kurt thanks Sam for getting the food, and grabs a bottle of water for them each from the fridge.

They sit around the island, and Kurt's comfortable, smiling and laughing easily, his tension relieved. And it's fascinating to Blaine to see the difference it makes—the difference he's helped make. Kurt turns his attention to talk with Sam; he asks about modeling and the designers he's worked with—commiserates over the temperamental ones. Kurt asks whether Mercedes has called him yet, and invites Sam back to to the weekly potluck, “Any Friday you're at a loose end, consider it a standing invitation.”

By the time they're clearing the lunch dishes, Sam seems more at ease too.

Once Sam's gone, Kurt turns to Blaine. “You live here now too,” he says. “If your friends want to hang out, please make sure they know they're welcome.”

“So you did overhear some of that,” Blaine says, sweeping up the crumbs on the counter into the palm of his hand.

“Yeah, most of it, I'm sorry,” Kurt says as he folds the dishcloth neatly over the sink divide. “I didn't mean to eavesdrop. But I don't want this to be weirder than it inevitably will be. I really don't want your friends to be uncomfortable.”

Blaine nods. “It'll just take some time, maybe? To settle in. But Sam's not going to be awkward about it. He just—he's kind of sensitive sometimes?”

“He cares about you,” Kurt says.

“Yeah, well. We've been best friends since high school.”

“Oh? So did you two came to New York together? From Ohio?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says. “I came for NYADA, and Sam had an in with the Bichette modeling agency.”

“Seriously?” Kurt laughs delightedly. “That's amazing. Rachel and I did almost the exact same thing! With her on her way to NYADA, and me with less certainty, but I landed a Vogue dot com internship, and—as you can see— it's worked out pretty well.”

“Wow,” Blaine says. “I'd say we've done Ohio proud, then.”

“I know, right?” Kurt's happy amusement is beautiful to see. “What are the odds?” he adds more softly, and his gaze upon Blaine is wondering.

Blaine feels his face heat. “Well, I for one, am not going to question my good luck.” He glances down. “I'm glad our paths have crossed.” Then he slips from his seat and stands. “But I really should go get those boxes taken care of.”

“Oh,” Kurt stands too. “Did you want some help unpacking? We can move that spare bookcase from my room into yours?”

“That sounds great,” Blaine says.

##

Within a small circle—or rather a cardboard henge—of Blaine's book boxes, Kurt sits on the floor alphabetizing Blaine's graphic novels onto the bottom shelves of the bookcase. Blaine doesn't have the heart to say he'd prefer to arrange them by publisher, then by franchise, then by universe, and finally chronologically. “So you like comics?” Kurt asks.

“Mmhm,” Blaine says; he's hanging his shirts, slacks, and jackets on the clothes rack, which Kurt's cleared off for him.

“Muscular men in spandex, huh?” Kurt says as he flips through one of the books.

Blaine laughs. “That's not all there is. It's more of a medium than a genre. I mean, I've got of Oscar Wilde's fairy tales and Sherlock Holmes, and, uh—other stuff, too.”

“Uh huh,” Kurt says, and he holds up Batman: Hush, open to Jim Lee's stunning full page drawing of Nightwing. “I certainly see the appeal,” Kurt says.

And Blaine can't think of a single sensible thing to say to that, or to Kurt's flirtatiously raised eyebrow, but he hears Tina's voice in his head telling him the last thing he should do right now is pull out his phone to show Kurt the photos of him dressed as Nightbird last Halloween. “Do you really?” he manages, far too breathless to be nonchalant. It shouldn't matter what Kurt thinks, that's the trouble.

Kurt bites his lip and tilts his head. “Are you blushing?”

“Oh, I just... um, used to get made fun of, for liking this stuff?” Blaine turns his attention back to straightening the shoulders of a shirt on its hanger. He's absolutely certain Kurt wasn't making fun, just being friendly and bonding over hot guys in tights, but... It would be far too easy to slip into thinking this is something more than what it is. Not every smile is an overture Blaine reminds himself.

“I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Kurt says.

“You didn't,” Blaine says. “That's all on me. Really, Kurt it's fine—and if you want to borrow any to read, I can recommend good places to start. Just let me know.”

“All right,” Kurt says, “I may take you up on that.”

They work in silence for a little while, punctuated by the swish and thump of Kurt arranging the books and the metallic scrape and clack of the coat hangers on the rail. Minute by minute it stretches into something not altogether comfortable, but Blaine isn't sure he can pin down the exact tension well enough to relieve it. Or he could be imagining it. Maybe Kurt's just a quiet guy.

But when Kurt speaks again, it's soft and serious. “You should know, in the interest of full disclosure,” Kurt says, “I've not had a lot of luck in keeping boyfriends.”

Blaine drops the shirt he just picked up. Kurt's not looking at him, but at the corner of the bed with two faint lines creasing the skin between his eyebrows.

“They find me... too demanding and difficult,” Kurt says. He reaches out and adjusts the hang of the bedspread. “The last one said I was selfish, among other less flattering things. I'm not what they expect when we start, and I never can live up to their expectations. They don't understand until...” Kurt makes a vague gesture at himself and grimaces. “There's always a honeymoon period where all this seems like fun. But it's never lasted. They always leave me.”

Any reassurance Blaine could offer would be glib, so he says instead, lightly, “Well, then I guess it's a good thing I'm not your boyfriend.”

“No,” Kurt says, his smile quivers. “And I like you, Blaine, but I don't want you to be my boyfriend. I want someone I can rely on.”

“I know,” Blaine says gently, and he promises himself he'll do his best to be that for Kurt as long as he's here.

“Okay,” Kurt says, and he shakes his head and forces a smile for Blaine. “God, this is weird enough for me, I can't imagine how you're feeling right now.”

“I'm fine,” Blaine says. “I read all the information you sent me, Kurt. I know what I'm getting into.”

“I hope so,” Kurt says. “You seem like a great guy.”

“So do you,” Blaine replies.

Some of Blaine's things—other clothes mostly and décor items—stay in their boxes, while he waits for his furniture from home. Kurt offers drawer space if he needs it, but Blaine says he'll be fine for the week it'll take to get his dresser and desk. Then Blaine sees the way Kurt's fidgeting with the hem of his dusty t-shirt, and he looks at the digital clock on his nightstand. It's after the usual dinner hour.

“So, um?” Blaine says. “Dinner or?”

“Shower first,” Kurt says, his blue eyes rake sharply up Blaine's body. “We're both filthy. Would you care to join me?”

“Yes,” Blaine says. It's the only answer possible.

##

Kurt brings a bottle of silicone lubricant into the shower with them, but no condom. Blaine doesn't ask what he intends, just shucks of his dusty, sweaty clothes and lets the heat in Kurt's gaze reel him in to stand with him under the steaming spray of water. It's the first time he's seen Kurt naked, and Blaine lets his gaze take in the supple strength of his body, trim and narrow at the waist and hips, broader across his shoulders, and long in limb. The definition of his musculature is sleek, not bulky.

And again Blaine wants to reach out and cup Kurt's jaw with his hand, draw him into a kiss. But--especially after their conversation in his room--it's wiser to let Kurt be the one to initiate such a thing, if such a thing is to happen between them. Blaine touches Kurt's waist with his open hand, smooths over the wet skin with his palm and gives him a smile instead of a kiss. “You've got a gorgeous body,” Blaine says.

Kurt's blush is pretty on his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says. “I was a nerdy late bloomer and had to earn this the hard way.”

“Oh,” Blaine tilts his head and looks at Kurt. “That's hard to imagine.”

“I'll show you some photos later. Remind me.” And then Kurt's hand is on Blaine's shoulder and he's pulling him close, holding his gaze and the space between them shrinks. Kurt's erection nudges Blaine's hip. “I really want to touch you now.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, “I want that too. Let me just...” Blaine tips his head back into the spray of the water and rinses the gel from his hair with his fingers. He doesn't want to get it in his eyes. Kurt's hands are light skirting over his ribs and up to his pecs, glancing over his nipples, and then sliding down to his hip bones. It feels like a question. Blaine's cock pulses hard between his legs.

When he tilts his head back and smooths his wet hair out of his face, Kurt smiles and skims one hand up to Blaine's shoulder, gives a little tug and says, “Turn around?”

Blaine does so, bending forward a few degrees while bracing himself against the tile wall with his forearms. Anticipation thrums high in his throat and deep in his belly. It's shockingly simple like this, just being present and complying with Kurt's desire. The only thing he needs to do is listen and respond to Kurt's requests. It's a surprise how comfortable he feels doing so. Something about Kurt and his situation compels him, seems to connect with and inspire something within Blaine that he doesn't entirely understand. Maybe this is what he wanted from those Grindr hook ups but never actually got.

He hears the snap of a plastic cap and waits for Kurt's touch to come low on his ass. But instead he gets Kurt's hands on his head, massaging shampoo into his wet hair, from the nape of his neck up to his crown. Kurt's fingers are strong and agile, and it sends a hot frisson down Blaine's spine. He hums his pleasure and closes his eyes. “Feels nice,” he says.

“Good,” Kurt replies, and he takes similar care washing and rinsing the rest of Blaine's body, until Blaine's clean and Kurt's angling the shower head off to the side and taking Blaine's rigid cock into a loose hand, his fingers and palm oily slick with the silicone lube. He strokes light and slow, and the fine build of sensation is irresistible. Blaine could drown in it. Kurt's voice vibrates near Blaine's ear. “I was wondering something,” Kurt says.

“What's that?”

“Do you enjoy being teased?”

“Oh,” Blaine says. The delicate play of Kurt's fingertips over his cockhead suggests an easy answer. As does the timbre of Kurt's voice. Still, Blaine's not sure about committing himself to an answer without knowing what it will lead to. “I don't... uh... know.”

“It seemed to me earlier,” Kurt says, and though his tone is confident, there's a note of sincere query too. “Maybe you enjoyed being left wanting? Did you?”

It's just Kurt's thumb and forefinger now, gliding and pinching gently over his glans. Blaine can't remember how to put words in order. He makes a garbled moan and forces his hips still though he longs to push into Kurt's hand more forcefully. “Yes,” he gasps. “I liked that.”

Kurt moves closer until the length of his cock settles against the cleft of Blaine's buttocks. “Why's that, I wonder?” Kurt presses, rocking his hips so Blaine can feel the whole hot hungry length of him.

“Oh, because you promised...” Blaine gasps.

“To make it up to you? You like the anticipation?”

“I think so, yes. I don't know, Kurt, just... oh, please. Touch me.”

“You ask so nicely,” Kurt says, and he wraps the rest of his hand around the end of Blaine's cock, squeezing snug and perfect as he rolls his palm over the tip, and Blaine's thighs shake from the shock of it. Kurt's other hand goes to his ass, tugging Blaine's cheeks apart so he can better fit his cock between them. The crown of it nudges slick past Blaine's tailbone as Kurt rocks his hips, rubbing and slipping up between Blaine's buttocks. It makes Blaine want to bend over farther and ask Kurt to fuck him. But at the same time, the want of that is drowned out by how good Kurt's hand is on him, and the enjoyment of feeling so close to getting what he wants (Kurt's cock in his ass) without quite having it, just having the tangible idea of it: almost almost almost. But not quite. So close, yet denied, because there's no condom.

Maybe he does like being teased. Sebastian never was a very patient or adventurous lover, and Blaine never felt relaxed enough with the various rebound guys to go far off the script he'd learned with Sebastian. Blaine groans and presses his ass back to encourage. “I like this,” he says, so Kurt will be sure.

“Good,” Kurt says. “Do you have a problem with me coming on you?” he asks. His voice is thin. He sounds close already.

“No,” Blaine says, and he drives his hips forward to meet the lengthening strokes of Kurt's hand, shoves back to rub and press against Kurt's dick. He feels shameless in wanting it, shameless in wanting the want. It's fantastic. “Do it,” he says.

Kurt ruts and grinds against his skin in mindless seeking rhythm. He presses his mouth to Blaine's neck and grits out, “You're so fucking beautiful.” Then he tenses behind Blaine, his cock swells, and his semen gushes warm over the top of Blaine's ass.

“Oh my god,” Blaine says, and Kurt's hand slides down to the base of his cock and and holds still.

“Wait a sec,” Kurt pants, and he releases Blaine altogether. “Please.”

“Kurt,” Blaine grits out. He looks down at his cock, flushed angrily and aching for the lost contact. He could reach down and touch himself, but Kurt said to wait. He closes his eyes and drops his head. Concentrates on the hiss of the shower and the steady drum of the hot water. Lets that be the contact he craves.

And then a wet cloth passes over his skin where Kurt's just come. “Don't worry, I'm not going to leave you wanting again,” Kurt says. His fingers are at Blaine's ass then, slipping nimbly between his buttocks and finding his hole. Pressing firmly when they do.

“All right,” Blaine says and he gasps when Kurt's lubed slick fingertip breaches him. Slow push in, such a small thing, a finger, but he's so ready for it, it dominates his senses. The slight stretch of it, the delicious drag within the sensitive rings of muscle.

In and out, Kurt moves slowly, working deeper with each thrust. Blaine wants to spread his legs and beg for more, faster, thicker, harder. Wants to tell Kurt he can take it. Take anything. But he doesn't. He keeps still and takes what Kurt's giving him, because hanging in the pleasure of this while desiring more is an exquisite and beautiful place to be.

Kurt's other hand reaches back around to take his cock, and works back up to a good building rhythm, and then he pushes a second finger in alongside the first. “Okay?” Kurt asks him, and Blaine realizes Kurt doesn't know how much Blaine's wanting right now. Despite his earlier questions, this time, he's not meaning to tease. Kurt's touching him with the same care Blaine felt that first time. Maybe it won't be like this every time, but he knows it's there. It's not something a person can fake.

It makes Blaine lightheaded. “Yes,” Blaine says, arches and pushes back. “That's it,” he says. “I can take... more.”

“Yeah?” Kurt asks and withdraws his hand, pushes in thicker, slower with the wedge of his middle, index, and ring fingers. It's less precise, but the fuller feeling is worth it. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says. “God. Fuck me like that.”

Using his fingers, working quick and sure, Kurt fucks Blaine. It's the perfect extra piece to fuse with the pleasure Kurt's hand is rubbing into his cock. His orgasm winds up fast, and Kurt doesn't relent until it's wrung him out completely, fucks Blaine until Blaine's trembling and spent.

After Kurt releases Blaine's cock and withdraws his hand, Blaine turns around shakily, slumps against the tile wall, and they look at each other. With his hair wet and drooping over his forehead, naked and flushed and wide-eyed in the steam, Kurt looks so young. “Wow,” Blaine says.

Kurt grins and bends his head near to kiss Blaine's cheek, more lingering this time, and he says, “It was my pleasure. Thank you.”

And Kurts sweetness helps Blaine find a reserve of strength to rally his body. He blinks and breathes and steadies his knees, stands straighter. Then he reaches for the shampoo and says to Kurt, “Your turn?”