Saturdays dinner is Fridays leftovers, accompanied by the half bottle of Bonterra chardonnay Rachel left behind. Kurt hums and smiles while he clears off one end of the dining table to they can sit across one corner of it, looking out at the fading light of the sun as it sets behind the buildings of Manhattan. Loose-limbed and with a sparkle in his eye, Kurt leans in toward Blaine. He squints and extends the arm nearest Blaine and points. "My river view," he says.

Along the line of Kurts point, Blaine spies the tiniest sliver of gray water visible between two buildings. He laughs. "Impressive. I cant believe you didnt include that in your ad." Kurts shoulder presses against his before Kurt steps away and they sit. While Kurt pours them each a glass of wine, Blaine cuts into the reheated spinach and potato enchiladas Mercedes brought last night and serves them each.

"So, what do you like to do with your Saturday evenings?" Kurt asks. "Is Callbacks still the NYADA hangout of choice?"

"Oh, yeah." Blaine nods and reaches for the bowl of the salad he made. "Its a great spot. Youve been before?"

"Many times with Rachel, and I performed there with the band back in the day." Kurts smile is wistful. "Its been years though. I hadnt even really thought about it until just now."

"Well, if you miss it," Blaine ventures, "we could go sometime? As a group with your friends and Sam? Pascal usually lets me play the piano, which is a great way to top up my coffee fund."

"Pascal," Kurt says, drawing out the final syllable with nostalgic affection; his gaze is unfocused staring out the window. "Wow, hes still there?" He blinks and turns his attention to Blaine, lifts his glass.

"Yeah." Blaine reaches for his glass too, takes a sip.

Kurt considers Blaine. "You must be good. He must like you."

"Yeah," Blaine says, glances down at his food. "Ive been playing piano longer than Ive been singing."

"Of course youre good, or you wouldnt be at NYADA," Kurt says, and the words are weighted with a warmth Blaines not sure how to interpret.

"Yes? Seems to be the general consensus," Blaine says, more curious than pleased; hes uncertain what Kurts praise means right now. Kurts never seen him perform. "But I... um?" Blaine tries to get a read on Kurt, his fond smile, the quality of his attention. Hes relaxed and sated like a well fed cat, but theres something more there. Is he flirting again?

"Oh god, Im sorry, Im making you uncomfortable," Kurt says. His moves to rest his fingertips briefly upon Blaines forearm, and then they return to his fork. Kurt turns his knife in his other hand a few times while staring blankly at his plate.

"No, youre not," Blaine reassures. "I guess—Im just not sure where all the lines are between us? Or even where they should be. Where you want them to be?"

"Right," Kurt says. "We havent really talked about that too much, have we?"

"Not really, no?"

Kurt nods silently and takes a bite of the salad. He chews and swallows and takes a sip of wine. Blaine waits for him to speak. "Do you know what Id normally be doing on a Saturday night?" Kurt asks.

Its not hard to guess, but Blaine would prefer not to make assumptions. "No," he says.

"Going around clubs, scrolling through Grindr. Looking for a willing stranger, and—" Theres no humour in Kurts huff of laughter or the twist of his lips. "Hoping for the best."

"Alone?"

Kurt lifts a shoulder. "With Elliott or Dani sometimes—they are, both of them, fantastic wingmen—but most often alone, yeah."

"Im sorry," Blaine says, to the frown he sees on Kurts face.

"So, Im just really enjoying this tonight, with you, Blaine, you have no idea. Knowing that—" Kurt breaks off with a sigh and he closes his eyes, sets down his cutlery. Rests his wrists on the edge of the table. "I dont have to do that anymore, or not for a while anyway, and not tonight. It feels so damned good. Eating leftovers at home on a Saturday night in your company, knowing Im covered? Right now? This is the best Saturday night I could imagine."

"Kurt..." Blaine says. He doesnt know what else to say, but his heart aches with sympathy. He reaches out to lay his hand on Kurts forearm.

And Kurts eyes open, too bright and reflecting the sunset glow. "Please forgive me if Im too effusive or enthusiastic in my gratitude for your presence and your... care."

"No, oh, god, please dont apologize for that," Blaine says, and he squeezes Kurts arm. "Im glad to be here, Kurt, for you—not just your fancy river view."

Blessedly, Kurt chuckles and rolls his eyes. But theres still too much softness in his smile. "I think I actually believe you, and—wow—thats new for me. Experience has taught me I shouldnt believe people when they say things like that to me, not about this. Yet here you are, somehow convincing me."

Blaine wishes he could erase the lingering trace of sadness from Kurts face. Its not fair that Kurts had to navigate such a difficult path. It sounds so lonely. "Thats not a bad thing is it? You told me you wanted someone to rely on. I want to be that person for you."

"While youre here," Kurt says.

"Yeah, well, um..." Blaine withdraws his hand, unsure. If Kurts thinking about the end when its only the beginning? Hes not sure what to do with that.

"Did you want to talk about boundaries?" Kurt asks. "And how horribly Im overstepping already? Honestly I shouldnt be dumping all of this on you like this. You just got here."

With a slow nod, Blaine shrugs and says, "People find me easy to talk to? I dont mind. I just want to better understand what youre expecting from me. I know we agreed on sex whenever you need it, but other things? Friendship, flirting, foreplay—teasing? Is that all part of it too? Is that what you want? If were not boyfriends, but were doing this. How does that go?"

A strange yearning settles on Kurts face. "Ideally," he says, "I would like us to be friends. I want this arrangement to be friendly, not some kind of grudging obligation. I dont want you to feel like youre an indentured servant. I like you, you like me. If we can have fun and enjoy this together sometimes, Id love that. Believe me, its not always fun or convenient or... even wanted, really. When its too much compulsion and not enough desire—sometimes I honestly hate it, Blaine. But—"

"But?"

"Sometimes its good. Its been great with you so far, and I dont want you to hate it, or resent me."

"I dont, and I wont, Kurt. I promise."

"Thats a big promise."

"As you know, Im very good," Blaine says, and he lets the flirtation warm his voice.

More laughter from Kurt, restrained but genuine. "Though, since you asked about other things. Foreplay? For me... when I need to get off, I just want to get it done most of the time, so no more than required. But Im happy to take more time for you, when I can. Like I said before, I want this to be good for you, as often as it can be."

"Thank you," Blaine says. "And trust me, its all been good with you. Amazing even."

"I hope youll still feel that way in a week," Kurt says. "And Im open to feedback too, Blaine. If you want to do—or have me do—things a little differently, or if I ask for something youre not up to, there are options. We have options. If you need to say no to something, say no, all right?"

"All right, I will," Blaine says. The reminders unnecessary. Kurts made it clear from the start, in their first email exchange, that nothing here will happen without Blaines consent, but Blaine has no intention of telling Kurt no, not without extremely good cause. This is a commitment he means to honor.

They fall into a not uneasy silence after that. Blaine tops up their glasses, and when Kurt speaks again, its to change the subject. To ask if Blaine would want to join him in catching up on what his DVRs collected through the week, and Blaine discovers they share a bizarre fondness for the worst reality TV shows.

"The more trainwrecky the show, the more it helps me regain my perspective on my own life, you know?" Kurt says.

"Absolutely," Blaine says. "Its like the modern version of Greek tragedy. We get all that catharsis because we fear our own lives being so shallow or terrible, and then we get to turn off the TV and be grateful theyre not our lives, that no matter how bad our week was, we did better."

"I dont know," Kurt says, grinning. "Ive had some pretty reality TV worthy weeks."

Blaine laughs and helps him clear the table.

##

A dull knocking wakes Blaine. For an instant hes unsure where he is. The glowing green numbers on his clock read 1:43am.

"Blaine?" Kurts voice is soft, and Blaine remembers everything.

He pushes himself up to his elbows and looks toward his open bedroom door. Kurts a slim robed silhouette in the doorway. "Hey," Blaine says, his voice a soft rasp. He clears his throat. "Kurt."

The city glow filtering through his thin curtains isnt enough to illuminate Kurts face where he stands at the threshold. "Hi," Kurt says, and his hand rises to grasp the doorjamb.

Blaine scoots up against his pillows and his heart thuds in his chest. "Come in, its fine. Im awake," Blaine says.

"I can see that," Kurt says with a low laugh. He steps into the room and more light falls upon him. As he opens and drops his robe, the dark material falls away from his pale skin. But he remains wrapped in dim gray scale, and his face is a blur, but Blaine can make out the tilt of his smile.

Blaine tosses his covers aside and shimmies out of his pajama pants. Its like a sex dream: a shadowy and beautiful man coming into his room in the middle of the night, dropping his robe, and—now—crawling naked onto his bed. Blaine tosses his pajama pants aside and reaches for the lube and condom on his nightstand.

"What would you like?" he asks. Kurts close now and paused, straddling Blaines legs; his knees brush the outside of Blaines thighs. Blaine can feel his body heat and smell his arousal mingling warm with his cologne, can hear the urgency of his desire in the cadence of his breath. Hes like some benign incubus, come to feed his hunger.

"I was planning on riding you," Kurt says.

"Oh—" Blaine says, and his head swims hot and muzzy at the thought of it. "Yeah, that sounds... uh... please do."

Kurts hand is on his chest then, pushing him back down, and holding him there. Breathless, Blaine gazes up into the dark at Kurts vague form. "You dont have to do anything," Kurt says. "Just lie back and enjoy yourself. Or ," he adds, wry, "feel free to doze off again, if youd rather."

"No," Blaine says. "I want to be awake for this."

Kurts fingertips drag down Blaines sternum to his belly, and Kurt circles his navel with his index finger. Blood surges so hard and sharp to Blaines groin, he gasps.

"Then Ill make sure youre good and ready for me," Kurt says. He shifts, pressing one knee between Blaines, coaxing Blaine to part his legs. His other hand lands on Blaines hip and Kurt lowers his head. His hair tickles Blaines chest and then his lips press into the tender hollow of Blaines solar plexus, soft and parted: a gust of breath, a caress of a kiss.

"Okay," Blaine says, and he shivers when Kurts hand skims from his belly button to his cock, down the length of him to fondle his balls.

Kurt scoots back, kisses down until Blaines cock bumps under his chin, then he lifts his head and raises Blaines cock to his lips. Sucks him in deep with a loud rush of breath through his nose.

"Oh..." Blaines spine bows and his fingernails scrape across his taut bottom sheet without finding purchase. The hot pull of Kurts mouth is so strong, its good but too much too fast. "Wait," Blaine fumbles clumsily at Kurts hair. "Can you please... ah... ease up a little?" Blaine half gasps, half laughs. "Please?"

In response Kurts mouth softens around him and slows. Without stopping, Kurt hums an affirmation, and Blaine feels it vibrate everywhere. The abrupt build of his arousal diffuses, floods his body with blissful anticipation. He pets over Kurts shoulders, and when he feels ready for more he says. "Okay, Im good."

Wordlessly, Kurt shifts up over Blaines hips. Blaine reaches for the condom and lube. He unrolls the condom and slicks himself up while Kurt reaches behind himself. Kurt grunts softly and withdraws something (a slim plug?) from his own ass. But before Blaine has a chance to ask, Kurts guiding Blaines cock to his slippery hole, pressing himself down, and the sweltering grip of his body consumes Blaine.

"Jesus," Blaine whispers.

"Couldnt sleep," Kurt mumbles, and he lets out a shuddering breath and his shoulders hitch up as his sinks down with a fantastic little roll of his hips. One hand is splayed across his belly, the other edges down for his cock. "I needed it so bad. I didnt want to have to wake you tonight, not your first night, but—" He moans as he lifts back up, working his ass around Blaine to get the angle he wants. "Oh, I knew you were just across the hall, and I—oh fuck."

"Its okay," Blaine says and he rubs up Kurts thighs, loves the flex of the hard muscle beneath his palms. And the feel of Kurt surrounding him is among the very best reasons to be awake at 2am. "This is what Im here for. Im not complaining."

"Ha," Kurt says, sighs and bows his head as he pushes down and drags back up. "But Id hoped to ease you into it, not just— I thought I could make it through the night. Oh my god. You feel good. Do you know how long it's been since I've been comfortable enough with someone to do this?"

“No,” Blaine says. He's unsure what the this part of this entails, but hes flattered—and oddly moved.

But Kurt doesn't answer him, he just shudders and rolls one shoulder back, reaching back to take a firm hold of Blaine's thigh with his free hand, firms the grip on his cock with the other. Grinds his ass down forcefully while he jerks off, he's not looking at Blaine, but down at his own hand moving over his cock. The fall of his hair obscures the dark blur of his eyes. Blaine can see his mouth is slack and open.

And for an instant Blaine doesn't entirely feel like he's present. It's just Kurt, unselfconsciously using his body, using his dick, for his own purpose. But Blaine doesnt feel diminished by it, as he would expect to. It's just hot. He gets to be here and witness this, watch Kurt take what he needs. Gets to give Kurt what he requires, gets to be it. He wonders how many guys have fucked Kurt and had no idea what they were doing or what kind of person Kurt is. Didnt even bother to remember his name. Blaine holds Kurts hips and rocks up to meet him, finds the motion that makes Kurt tremble and throw his head back and moan. Blaine makes him cry out, loud. He makes him come, twice.

Kurt doesnt stay long after, just long enough to clean Blaine up, pull his sheet over his cooling body, and say thank you—with a parting kiss to Blaines cheek. Blaines drifted back to sleep before Kurts even out his door.

##

Blaine wakes to the scent of coffee. Hes stiff as he stretches out his limbs, but everything feels good. The filtered morning sun, the airy room, his body and mind. He pulls his pajamas pants back on and grabs a t-shirt, but doesnt bother with a dressing gown.

He comes out curiously to find Kurt singing softly to himself while hulling strawberries by the sink. Hes wearing dance pants and a tank top. "Good morning," Blaine says, enjoying the curve of Kurts deltoids, the dip and swell of the line down to his biceps.

"Waffles?" he asks Blaine over his shoulder. "Unless you have any anti-waffle dietary preferences I should know about?"

"Waffles sound good," Blaine says.

"Help yourself to coffee," Kurt says, and nods toward the French press sitting near the stove.

Blaine finds a mug and gets some coffee; its rich and strong. Blaine settles against the edge of the counter as he sips. "Do you need anything?"

"Mmm, Ill need you soon enough, but we can eat first," Kurt says, slicing the strawberries thinly and fanning them out with his fingers before arranging them on the plates. Beside him, an electric waffle iron preheats, and a large bowl of batter rests nearby. "In the ongoing quest to keep some semblance of order to my days, I have a rule: no sex between getting out of bed and breakfast."

"Okay, but I actually meant, can I help you with the food?"

"Oh!" Kurt laughs. "Sorry, god, I can be so single-minded. Um, sure, can you get the maple syrup from the pantry, please? Therell be a new bottle of grade A second shelf down, on the far left."

Kurts pantry is exceedingly well stocked and well ordered. Labels adorn each shelf and every canister, can, bottle, and jar is arranged in neat, straight ranks and rows, both alphabetically and thematically as far as Blaine can tell. The maple syrup (organic, from New Hampshire) is exactly where Kurt said it would be, with an identical bottle behind it, Blaine pulls it forward and makes sure its level with the other items on the shelf.

"Thank you," Kurt says.

They eat at the island and Kurt makes more coffee. The waffles are crisp and fluffy. After their plates are clear, Kurt watches Blaine take the last mouthful of his coffee and Kurt asks, "Now?"

Blaine swallows. "Yeah, if you like."

"Okay... gosh," Kurt says, pushing his chair back and standing abruptly. His hands are restless on the side seams of his pants, and his cock is a thick prominent ridge behind the black cotton over his crotch. "Your bed heads been driving me crazy. Would you blow me, please?"

"Id love to," Blaine says.

Kurt pushes his stool aside and turns to lean back against the edge of the island counter. He unties his pants and pushes them down. His erection juts out, bare and heavy. Blaine slips from his stool to crouch down. He pins Kurts hips to the cabinets, and with his mouth still hot from his coffee and the sweetness of the maple syrup on the back of his tongue, he sucks Kurts cock.

"Oh..." Kurt gasps, and his fingers tangle in Blaines hair.

##

After separate showers, Blaine dresses in comfortable clothes for a walk: navy blue slacks, a fern green and white striped tee, and a coral linen jacket in case the mornings patchy clouds thicken up. He finds Kurt at the dining table. The fabric bolts and stacks of magazines hes shifted to the chairs, and hes laid out a long piece of plain white paper, upon which hes carefully measuring and drawing lines.

"Hey," Blaine says softly, reluctant to disrupt Kurts concentration.

Kurt looks up, his fingers splayed across the L-square. He twirls his pencil once between his fingers and raises his eyebrows in query. "Going out?"

"Yeah," Blaine tucks his hands in his pockets and tilts his head toward the door. "I was going to go for a wander around the area to get myself oriented," Blaine says. "Is there anything I should pick up on the way back? Milk, bread, coffee?"

"Oh." Kurt straightens. "Would you like company? Or a guide?" Kurt asks. "Or would you prefer a solitary adventure?"

"If youre not too busy, company would be great, but if you need to work—I can use Google maps."

"Im not working," Kurt says. "This is a for fun project, not work. A summery cocktail dress for my stepmom. I still havent found the right fabric." Kurt lifts his hand off the L-square and sets down his pencil. He peers out the window where the morning breeze is picking up. "Let me get a jacket, and Ill buy you lunch?"

Along the edge of the Navy Yards Kurt leads him before turning south and heading toward Atlantic avenue where all the best grocers and bakeries and other gourmet food shops are. "The essentials," Kurt says. "We can grab some stuff for dinner." On the way, Kurt shows him the local parks, the best bodegas for 2am junk food runs, and the best options for takeout and pizza. They wend their way through the NYUs polytech campus, and eventually get to their destination. Down the bustling avenue past the old Victorian brick buildings they walk—many of the brick facades sport their original purpose (Urban Outfitters is the bottom floor of what was once John Curtin Sail Makers and Canvas Goods—circa 1859 Kurt tells him), past hand painted signage, street displays of flowers and produce, and colorful awnings.

Though the NYADA cafeteria was reliable and decent, the variety of what the grocers have on display has Blaine excited to have access to both a variety of ingredients and a kitchen in which to prepare and enjoy them. "Ill never get over the food in this city," he says. Theyre outside the Green Pea grocer looking at punnets of berries. Plump perfect raspberries, tiny heirloom strawberries, organic blueberries, bilberries, and huckleberries, shiny bing cherries, black currants, red currants—some other things Blaine doesnt easily recognize.

"I know, right? After growing up in the culinary wastelands of rural Ohio, its paradise for an aspiring foodie."

Blaine laughs. "My freshman fifteen was more like a freshman twenty-five. Just the food trucks! Thank god for NYADA dance class." He picks up a punnet of blueberries for their basket. Hell make Kurt pancakes tomorrow.

Kurt snorts a laugh while he sorts through the raspberries for the best looking ones. "Then let me sabotage all your past hard work. Im going to make ice cream tonight. Raspberry white chocolate sound okay?"

"Divine," Blaine says, and then more cheekily he bumps his shoulder against Kurts and says, "Im sure well have no trouble working it off together"

"Mr. Anderson!" Kurt says, mock scandalized and covering the perfect o of his mouth with his fingertips. "How presumptuous of you," he teases. And then he winks, and sets his selection in the basket.

Blaine grins his delight, and his chest feels full with it, and as light as a helium balloon. He follows Kurt inside to the salad greens section, where Kurt frowns over bins of baby arugula and watercress like theyre the most serious things in the universe. Its adorable and Kurts beautiful and Blaine just wants to keep looking at him.

Should it be this easy? With someone like Kurt? Blaine watches Kurt and cant help but wonder where hes been all his life.

Leaving for New York just as Blaine was starting high school in truth. Which brings an unpleasant lump of nostalgia to dim Blaines mood, but he forces his smile brighter as Kurt says, "If you think well need calories, then we need to hit Betty Bakery too, their lemon pound cake—oh my god, youll love it, Blaine." He hooks his hand in the bend of Blaines elbow and tugs him onward to a display of local cheeses.

If being with Kurt like this is easy, then Blaine knows better than to overthink it and make it complicated. Theyre having fun together, and thats something they both want.

For lunch they end up a few blocks away at a little cafe overlooking a small park. They sit outdoors on a mossy brick patio scattered with potted herbs. While they wait for their sandwiches, they sip iced tea. Sun and shade break over them as the clouds drift by above.

"So," Kurt says. "Ive told you some of my sordid past. How is it someone like you has had bad luck in love too?"

"Oh, um," Blaine says, and his mind blanks on him. Behind Kurts sunglasses, his gaze is inscrutable.

"Too personal?" Kurt asks with a wrinkle of his nose and a tily of his head. "Am I overstepping again?"

"No," Blaine says. "Youre not. Its just—theres not really an easy nutshell version? And I dont know if youd want the official therapy version or the disgruntled exes version."

"How about your version?"

"Oh." Blaine blinks.

"You know, the one where youre the hero of your story," Kurt says with an encouraging twist of his shoulders. "Or we can talk about something else, your plans for the summer or your early culinary expeditions in the city. Or the times my high school glee club made it Nationals, or we could reminisce about the paucity of culture in Cowtown, Ohio, or I could tell you about—"

"Wait. You were in show choir?"

"Mmhm, for three years of high school. It saved my life and my sanity."

"Me too," Blaine says. "With the Dalton Academy Warblers. I was their featured soloist all four years. But we never made it to Nationals. Every year Vocal Adrenaline was impossible to get past at Regionals."

"Still?" Kurt says. "Or, again, I guess I should say. We beat them those two years, and it took them a while to make their comeback, but I stopped following the show choir blogs after I got to New York."

"Wow," Blaine says. Its not hard to work out where Kurt went to high school if he was part of that choir. "You were with the New Directions?" Kurt nods and Blaine boggles quietly. Just a year or two fewer between them and they would have maybe known each other. What would it have been like to have known Kurt in high school? Of course they would have been rivals, but still.

"Yeah," Kurt says. "What are the odds? You were a Warbler. Those guys are amazing. We were up against them every year, tied at Sectionals more than once. And the years we beat them it was on a technicality. I bet you were an amazing front man."

"I loved it," Blaine says.

"I almost transferred to Dalton, my junior year," Kurt says.

"Really?" So close, and yet.

"Because of the no bullying policy?" Kurt explains, "But thats not a story I care to revisit this lovely Sunday. Too sad, and Im long past it."

"I understand," Blaine says, and impulsively he reaches across the table to cover Kurts hand with his own. "Im sorry for whatever you went through back then."

"Thanks," Kurt says. He brushes the edge of Blaines hand with his thumb and Blaine wishes he could see Kurts eyes. Then the waiter arrives with their sandwiches, and Kurt pulls his hand back to himself to unfold his napkin.

Its more than enough time spent looking back anyway, and Blaine doesnt return to the topic of his old relationship failures, since the moment has clearly passed. Instead he tells Kurt about the musical and film score composition masterclass hes wait-listed for in the Fall. Its an elective and is only open to fifteen students, but the dean is holding a space for him while he builds up a portfolio. "I just wanted to do something a little different next year, the musical theater performance track has been feeling a little stifling."

"So thats your summer project?" Kurt asks. "Building an original music portfolio?"

"Yep," Blaine says. "Its been fun so far, and Im looking forward to really getting stuck into working on it. We have all these stock clips available to score, but were allowed to include original footage too. Im just trying to decide what to focus on, to get a good variety."

"You know," Kurt says slowly. "Arties been looking for someone to work with him on a short film hes doing for his masters thesis. Maybe you could help each other out?"

##

The return home is quicker and more direct. Over lunch, Kurts grown tense and fidgety, leaving his napkin torn into narrow shreds and the sugar packets rearranged six times. Blaine wishes there were something he could do for Kurt now, but he suspects proposing any sort of sex in a semi-public space would just end up sounding sleazy. So he keeps up with Kurts brisk single-minded pace and they get home just as the clouds above them are fusing together into a pale gray blanket. The humidity on the cooling breeze suggests rain.

"I think..." Kurt says as he snips the bolt in the door behind them. "Im going to need... a lot."

"A lot?" Blaine carries the sacks of groceries over to the kitchen and sets them on the island.

Beside him, Kurts smile is quick as mercury. "Of orgasms. Sometimes," he says, and he looks for the cream, eggs, and milk in the bags, takes them to the fridge. "I can tell, it gets really... um... big and kind of itchy feeling I guess?"

"So youre telling me you need a really good long scratch, then?"

Kurts bark of laughter is sharp and loud. "Exactly," he says, and he takes Blaine by the hand and leads him to the bedroom. The rest of the groceries can wait.

Kurt strips off his clothes and tosses them all toward an armless green velveteen chair in the corner near his bed. Hes naked by the time Blaines barely got his jacket, shirt, and shoes off. Kurt leans back on the bed, propped up on bent elbows, one leg splayed out the side, the other bent at the knee and canted out. All long limbs, hard cock, and flushed skin, breathing heavily and staring at Blaine like hes starved, but hes laid himself out upon his quilted vermillion bedspread like hes the meal.

"What works best for you when its like this?" Blaine asks, fumbling with the tab of his zipper and making himself slow down.

"Um," Kurt glances at the nightstand and back to Blaine. "Sometimes, uh..." He trails off looking embarrassed.

Blaine gets his pants off , doesnt bother with his briefs, and comes to Kurt, knee-walks over to him and touches his shoulder, "Please, tell me, whatever it is, I wont judge you, okay?"

Kurt takes a breath, holds it, and then lets it out slowly through pursed lips. "When Im on my own, and I feel like this, I kind of... double team myself?" Kurts gaze skitters off Blaines face.

"Okay, using... toys?" Blaine raises his hand to cup Kurts jaw, and Kurt leans into his palm with a flutter of his eyelashes.

"Yeah," Kurt says quietly. "I have a, um, fleshlight and this dildo. Its kind of... big."

"Do you want me to use either—or both—of them on you?"

Kurts chest rises and falls quickly, he makes a soft whimper deep in his throat. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, and his attention pauses to rest somewhere on Blaines collarbones. "Would you?"

"Yes, of course I will," Blaine says. "Just tell me what youd prefer."

"Um, then..." Kurt blinks and looks up, meets Blaines gaze. "Could you use your mouth on me and maybe the dildo in my ass? Its something Ive fantasized about, but... I havent actually done it with anyone before."

"Well then, well give it a try, all right?"

"All right," Kurt says, and the anxious line of his mouth relaxes. "Everythings in the drawer." Blaine leans over and opens it, while Kurt shifts, and lowers himself shakily into his pillows.

Kurts got a few different lubes, condoms, and a handful of toys—plugs mostly, of various sizes, shapes, and materials—so the dildo is impossible to miss. Its not terrifyingly large, maybe seven inches long? But its fat—roughly two inches in diameter—gunmetal gray, and shaped more like a phallic torpedo than an ersatz cock. In Blaines hand, its smooth, flexible, and heavy. He lifts it out along with a water based lube that claims to be thick and long lasting and designed for anal use.

"Thats it," Kurt says. "If you could work me up to taking three fingers comfortably first, thatd be best."

"Yeah, well, I wasnt going to just try to ram it in," Blaine says and grins. Hes relieved when Kurt returns the grin.

"Okay," Kurt says, "Can we... just do it now? Im really, uh, starting to get uncomfortable."

"Sure, sure, of course," Blaine shifts back over and Kurt opens his legs more widely for Blaine to get between them. Blaine doesnt tease, just settles down, opening his mouth over the plush crown of Kurts cock—which pulls a long sigh of relief from Kurts lungs—while he squeezes some lube onto his fingers.

"Start with two, please," Kurt whispers, thrusting up into the suction of Blaines mouth with fitful little jerks, as if he cant help it. Blaine pushes one of his thighs back finds the tense little ring between his buttocks. It softens immediately at the touch of Blaines fingertips and he presses in with his index and middle fingers while sliding lower with each bob of his head. He rubs up Kurts perineum with his thumb.

"Thats it," Kurt sighs. "Just... mmm."

Blaine works in deeper with steady firm thrusts, he doesnt want to rush Kurt, but he doesnt want to drag this out into something unpleasant either. He fucks Kurt with two fingers until that feels easy, and then tucks in his ring finger too.

"Oh!" Kurt says, "Can you? A little rougher? Im—oh, god."

Already? Blaine cant ask, his mouth is full, and he doesnt dare pause. His answer comes in how he can feel the tension wind up fast in Kurts body, can hear it in his rasping breath and high-pitching cries. He slides up and down Kurts cock quickly, heedless of the sloppy wet sound of it, and shoves into Kurts ass as far as he can reach.

Kurt first orgasm comes hard. Kurt grabs Blaines hair in both hands and nearly doubles over, choking on his own voice. And then breathless, still twitching through the end of it, hes begging, "Please dont stop, I need more, please, can you—"

Blaine swallows and reaches blindly for the dildo and the lube, has to slow the work of his mouth while he slicks up the thing with a generous amount of lubricant. Hes making a mess he knows. Should have got a towel, but Kurts pulling his hair hard and saying, "Please put it in."

Blaine lifts his head from Kurts cock, and ignores Kurts miserable groan. "Try to relax for me, sweetheart, okay?" Blaine says, and he smears more lube over Kurts anus, works some in with his fingertips before taking the thick flared head of the dildo and pressing it to Kurts lax hole. The logistics seem improbable outside the realm of hardcore pornography. He uses his fingers to lead it in, sliding them back as he pushes. Theres enough resistance remaining that he uses only light pressure, but he keeps it steady. "Okay?" he asks. Hes never used anything this large on himself.

"Yeah," Kurt gasps, Im okay. Let me just..." He squirms a little and grinds his ass against the fat end, tight little greedy circles. The sight of it makes Blaine dizzy.

So he raises his attention to watching Kurts face, watches how his brow creases in concentration and his eyelids slip closed, and he feels Kurt open as the dildo edges forward; its blunt head slides all the way in with a silent pop. Blaine feels too, through his grip on the base of it, as soon as Kurts body clenches up reflexively, and he lets up on the pressure and holds everything still until Kurts breathing evenly again and relaxing around it. Then he pushes again, gradually feeding the smooth shaft of the toy in, in, in. With his free hand, Blaine reaches for Kurts cock, strokes to help soothe any initial discomfort of insertion. Soon enough, Kurts opening his eyes and his ass has taken the dildo up to its flared base.

And Blaine cant help but stare down at the wide stretch of Kurts body around the toy, "Does it feel good?" Blaine asks and his rubs circles over Kurts cockhead with his thumb. He tries to imagine it, the ache of the stretch and the heaviness inside.

"Its fine," Kurt pants. "But I need it to feel better." He lifts his hips, rocking against the dildo and sliding his cock through Blaines fist with a needy grunt. His whole body shudders gorgeously.

"Okay," Blaine says. "I just, Ive never done this before, I dont want to hurt you."

"Youre not hurting me, I promise," Kurt says. "Please, just fuck me with it."

Blaine drags the length out about half way, Kurt makes a guttural, animal sound. Blaine pushes it back in and Kurt throws his head back against his pillows, exposing the long arch of his throat. Hes beautiful.

Encouraged, Blaine lowers his mouth again, pushes down to take Kurts cock back in as deep as hes able at this angle. Lets out a pleased groan of his own at the thick weight of it in his mouth and upon his tongue, filling him up to drag against his soft palate, but no farther. He keeps his eyes open and casts his attention up Kurts body.

He works the dildo in tight smooth strokes and sucks and slides a complementary rhythm with his mouth. Kurt comes again swiftly, both hands still twisted up tight in Blaines hair. And then he unclenches his fingers and moves his hands to grab the backs of both thighs and holds them back and open. "Dont stop, dont stop, dont stop," he chants. Blaine swallows and sucks, and he fucks Kurt with as much force and speed as he dares. Kurt comes again in less than a minute, a weak trickle of fluid, and a pained sounding sob thats more frustration than relief. But Blaine doesnt stop, though his jaw and neck are beginning to ache, and hes struggling to get enough air into his own lungs, drawing only hasty and obscene sounding breaths around Kurts cock. He wont stop until Kurt tells him to. He keeps his attention on Kurt, concentrates on listening to Kurts voice and heeding the responses of Kurts body,

Kurt twists against his bedding and his fingers dig into the backs of his thighs, and he still begs for more with a dry breathless voice. "Come on, come on, one more," he says. "Please just one more," and Blaine isnt sure if Kurt is talking to him or to his own body.

But Kurt doesnt come again as quickly this time. He rolls his head side to side with his eyes pinched shut. His whole body strains and sweats, and he groans helplessly. "A little more, please. I need—"

Blaines never seen another person in a similar state. He pushes in harder with the dildo, tries to better angle its flexible length so that its flared edge will give Kurt the most benefit, and he sucks hard enough to make the inside of his cheeks burn. His lips are numb with friction, and its all rougher than seems credibly pleasurable, but Kurt cries out emphatic encouragement.

And then, "Oh, oh, yes, oh—" Kurt shivers and whimpers and his body seizes up. His cock pulses against Blaines tongue, but the orgasm is dry. A weaker spasm wracks his body within seconds, and then hes dropping his thighs and shivering and pushing at Blaines head. "Okay, enough, enough, please, stop now, can you... stop?"

Blaine releases Kurt from his mouth, and, as gently and as quickly as he can, eases the dildo free of Kurts ass. It slips out leaving Kurt wet and puffy and open. It takes Blaine a moment to catch his breath. He works his jaw to ease the ache of it and sits up, dazed.

"Oh my god," Kurt mutters, but he doesnt open his eyes or move except to bring his knees back together. He lies like a marionette with its strings cut, motionless but for the slowing rise and fall of his chest.

Uncertain of what Kurt may require next, Blaine rubs down Kurts leg to his ankle. "Better?" He asks.

Kurts immediate response is a noncommittal grunt, but then he forces his eyes open a sliver and looks down the bed at Blaine. He shifts his weight and winces. "So much better, oh my god. You were brilliant, but... Ill be feeling that tomorrow."

A few questions come to mind, things Blaine wants to know about what they just did, but he doesnt want to ask them yet, not when Kurts blinking so slowly with such heavy eyelids. Not when the smile stretching his lips is so satisfied and free of tension. Blaines awareness comes more fully back to his own body, too, and he grows aware of the hot ache of his own arousal, the insistent pulse of his heartbeat in his cock. But he finds today, much as he did yesterday, hes content to enjoy the pleasant burn of it unsatisfied. What he most wants is crawl up the bed and pull Kurt into his arms. One question is simple though and he needs an answer, "That was... pretty intense," Blaine says. "Is there something else I can do for you now, anything you need?"

With a shake of his head, Kurt responds with a question in kind, "What about you? Do you need to come?" His sleepy attention drops to Blaines crotch where his erection is clearly visible, as is the dampness of the thin blue cotton stretched over the head of it. Kurt tries to push himself up, fails, and flumps back down.

"Im fine," Blaine says. "You just relax, okay? Ill get you something to drink and clean you up, all right?" Blaine slides back and off the bed. Bends to collect his trousers and pull them back on.

"Youre the best," Kurt says. "Um, but if you want to, you can fuck me? Just give me five minutes?"

Its hard to tell if Kurts joking. "Id prefer to wait," Blaine says as he zips up.

First Blaine goes to the kitchen and looks in the fridge for cold drink options. Brings Kurt a glass of the cranberry-pomegranate blend he finds. Then he goes to the bathroom, takes the dildo with him to wash. Comes back with a cloth and finds Kurt half sitting against his headboard, smiling and blinking his eyes open wider as he stifles a yawn against the back of his hand. The empty glass sits on the nightstand. Blaine cleans him up and does his best with the bedspread too.

"Are you sure?" Kurt asks, dragging his fingers across Blaines chest, catching the edge of a nipple. Making Blaine shiver pleasantly at the contact. "I cant do anything for you?"

"Im sure," Blaine says. "You look like you need a nap."

"Hmmmm," Kurt hums and he looks at Blaine with narrowed eyes, but hes still smiling. If Blaine didnt know better, hed think Kurt was drunk, hes gone so loose and easy in his sleepy relieved afterglow.

"Hmmmm, what?" Blaine asks. He wipes down the lube bottle and tucks it back in the drawer where he found it.

"Youre really not an ordinary sort of boy are you?" Kurt weakly kicks the bedspread to the side and tries to push the top of the sheet down far enough to get his legs under it.

Blaine laughs and looks back at Kurt with a puzzled frown; he helps him with the sheet. "What do you mean?"

"I dont know," Kurt says. "But thats definitely not a bad thing, Blaine. I like you." Kurt reaches for his hand.

"I like you too," Blaine says, interlacing his fingers with Kurts. He wonders if he should offer a cuddle after all.

"Thank you," Kurt says. "For what you just did for me, that was a lot—more than I would have expected anyone to do for me."

"I loved doing it for you," Blaine says.

And Kurt squeezes his hand, gives him a long, thoughtful look, and says, "I believe you."