"Thousands have lived without love, not one without water." - W.H. Auden

It turned out that loosening up was not as easy as Kurt initially thought.  It took everything in him to hold back his agitation when Sam and Blaine began talking about a shooting video game they had both played when they were younger and made the noises and actions associated with it.  When Santana started openly talking about her bedroom life with Britany, again Kurt had to refrain from telling her to shut up.  Then Quinn started in on how Noah was an idiot for various reasons and Kurt just wanted to tell her to keep it to herself.  There was never any reason to air domestic complaints as openly as Quinn did.

So he just stayed quiet, and took out his annoyance on his teeth as he ground them.  

They finally reached the town they intended to scavenge, and not a moment too soon because Kurt was about to lose it on Sam who was showing Blaine how he could make fart noises with his armpit when they spotted it.  It wasn't a big town, in fact it qualified as a village on the map they had - meaning it had only been home to around 300-1000 people.   As such, there wasn't going to be many stores they could check out, so they'd be going through people's homes.  On the flip side though, villages tended to be ignored by other groups who opted to go to cities where there were more places to go through so it could be that this place wasn't as touched as others.

“It's like one of those little towns that they had those old Disney movies set in….” Blaine murmured as they walked the horses through the center of the town.  

“Probably started as a farming community gathering site or something….” Kurt said, taking note of how old the church at the center of town looked.  Definitely a community grown around old world beliefs and practices.  

“It's not too close to any rivers or anything… it might have been safe for people to stay in.” Quinn piped up, peering at the map folded to a manageable size in her hands.

“‘Cept so many people left safe places to check on family and friends in unsafe places.” Santana said with a snort.  “Regular zombie apocalypse movie idiot stuff.  Isn't a Disney movie, that's for sure.”

Blaine and Sam nodded in agreement with that and Kurt just shrugged.  He hadn't been a horror movie aficionado back before The Tides to know if the statement was true or not.  He did know that when the coastal cities had been taken so quickly, and easily, that panic was widespread everywhere else.  Some people left their homes to find families, some left them because it wasn't clear in the early days that The Others were only interested in holding cities near large bodies of water or waterways.  Whatever the reason, they had yet to run into any survivors staying in any of the places they scavenged.

“You ever come across a town that's still intact?” Sam asked of Blaine, vocalizing Kurt's own thoughts.

Blaine gave a small nod, “Just tiny ones though.  Your community is the largest gathering of humans I've ever seen.”

“And the largest gathering of non-humans you've seen would be….?” Santana inquired, picking up on the one key word Blaine used.

All eyes turned onto Blaine who just shook his head and looked down, “Rather not talk about it…”

“Why?  Think we can't handle it?”

“No.  I'm sure you can, I just don't think I can.  I'd like not to bring up old wounds….”

Looks were exchanged between the regular community members and Blaine's silence seemed accepted, though Kurt couldn't help but feel nibbles of curiosity eating away at him as they continued to ride.

The first order of business in town was ensuring that it was indeed empty.  Homes were peeked into, and the group checked for signs of recent habitation - from freshly put out fires to fresh tracks.  Not finding anything, now they focused on finding a home for the night.

“Dear god.  Please one with separate bedrooms this time.” Santana huffed as they looked into the first house and quickly left it as soon as they realized it was overrun with raccoons.

Several more were checked and deemed unworthy for various reasons - from mildew rot to floors that had caved in over the years.  Finally they found a quaint little home that seemed to have withstood most of the elements and nature over the past years and set themselves up.

Santana claimed the master bedroom with Quinn, and Sam found a kid's room decorated with Star Wars - complete with the sheets, curtains, and wall decals to make it a true dream for him, leaving Blaine and Kurt in what appeared to be a teenage boy's room based on the fact it was filled with old band posters and clothing about the right size for a growing boy.

“You should try on some of those clothes Blaine.  They look like they might fit you.”

Blaine chuckled and nodded, pulling out a swath of black shirts from a dresser, “Think this kid was into the goth scene much?”

Kurt scanned over the posters on the wall, all of them were for screamo and deathrock.  “Yeah… I think that's probably a pretty safe bet….”

“So… do you want the side of the bed by the wall or by - “

“I'm not sleeping with you Blaine.”

“But - “

“I'll stand watch tonight.”

“All night?”

“I generally do.”

“Oh.”

Kurt helped go through the drawers then, looking for clothing for Blaine and himself.  In the end, it ended up just being for Blaine alone because the clothing was too short on Kurt.

“I'm still waiting for a growth spurt…” Blaine admitted sheepishly, packing some of the warmer clothes that fit into his backpack.

Kurt chuckled, “Don't worry about it.  You'll have more clothes to choose from this way.  It's a good thing you look good in black.”

“You think?” Blaine immediately perked up at the offsided compliment and Kurt had to backtrack on his words quickly.

“Well, I mean…. everyone looks good in black.”

“Oh.”

More drawers were opened and rifled through, save for one of the night tables which Kurt closed as quickly as he opened it, seeing a stack of dirty magazines with the top one opened to a less than flattering picture of a naked woman and lubricant inside.  “Definitely a teenage boy…”

The pair was about to go through the closet when Santana burst in, wide eyed and with a grin that ran from ear to ear.  “There's a shitload of booze in the kitchen!”

“Oh god…” Kurt groaned under his breath as soon as Santana ran off to announce the news to Sam in the room across the hall.

“Not a good thing?”

“Santana is a weepy drunk…  Quinn is a mean drunk…”

“And you are?”

“On watch.”

Blaine made a tutting sound with his tongue in his mouth.  “Kurt.  If you want to drink - I'll take watch for you.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Don't you trust me?”

“I don't trust anyone.”

Blaine face seemed to fall, but Kurt ignored it.  Truthfully he just didn't want to drink.  He had seen what it did to so many other people - be it making them mean or weepy or just downright scandalous, and wasn't interesting in letting that happen to himself.  

“Oh come on curls, don't worry about Hummel.  He doesn't let down his walls for anyone.” Santana quipped by the doorway.  Kurt automatically tensed.  He hadn't realized she had been so close to hear him.

“What the hell does that mean Santana?” Kurt snapped back towards the doorway, where Santana strutted back into the room.

“It means that you're an uptight bitch.  Now go guard while the rest of us enjoy ourselves.  Maybe you can figure out a way to get the pole out of your ass.”

Between them, Blaine's eyes darted back and forth, and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously.  “Hey now… no need to be-”

“Shut up.” Both Kurt and Santana shot towards Blaine who immediately brought his lips together tightly before the quarrelsome pair glared at one another.

“Here's an idea.  YOU guard for once and I'll enjoy myself.”

Santana seemed taken aback by the suggestion, and her tongue rolled between her lips as she considered before nodding once, “Fine.  Half and half though?”

Kurt nodded stiffly in return, “You can drink yourself drunk when I go on duty.”  He too was taken aback, not expecting Santana to actually accept the offer, especially when it meant putting off getting buzzed.

“Oh I look forward to it.” She said with a broad grin, leaving the room then looking all too pleased with herself.

“Well… hey… good news huh?” Blaine offered, peering towards Kurt still nervous.

“I guess.  Now come on.  Let's get this over with.”

It was going to be a chore.  Kurt didn't really want to drink.  He had the occasional drink, usually when he was in pain - like when he needed to get stitched up a couple years ago after a shelf fell on him during a scavenging mission and cut open his side.  The community's moonshine wasn't great on the palette, but it did take the edge off the ache.

Sam and Quinn were already in the living room and already had a bottle opened for each of them.  Santana wasn't lying when she said there was a lot of alcohol.  On the coffee table was no less than ten bottles of different types of drinks.  

“None of this stuff goes bad…?”

Sam laughed and shook his head, “Not if it's not been opened before and it looks the family was preparing for a big party!  Bet they didn't know the party would come ten years later!”

Blaine looked over the offerings and then picked up a dark brown bottle, taking the bottle opener offered by Sam and winching off the cap before he looked back to Kurt.  “What's your preference?”

“Ah….”  Kurt's eyes again scanned the bottles, looking for maybe a name that was familiar at least.

“Hummel's going to drink with us mere mortals?  Has hell frozen over?” Quinn said, bottle balanced against her lips as she looked over with one brow lifted.

“Yah man.  I never see you even at any of the parties, let alone drinking.” Sam offered, eyes on Kurt as well.

With a roll of his eyes, Kurt just grabbed the bottle closest to him and held it out to Blaine to open.  Blaine glanced at the bottle, then up at Kurt again, skepticism written all over his features.

“Just open the damned thing up.”

Blaine complied, and then gave the bottle opener back to Sam.   Before anyone could even suggest saying cheers, Kurt took a swig back and winced.  It was smokey and strong, but he wasn't going to let them see a little bit of alcohol be stronger than he was so he swallowed it down and then took another sip, though a smaller amount.

“Figure's Hummel's a whiskey drinker.”

Kurt shot a look over to Quinn who shrugged her shoulders up and continued to drink, reclined out on a musty looking brown chair - part of a set it seemed as Sam was sitting on the couch that matched.

Blaine sat down at the other end of the couch, leaving Kurt to take the loveseat.  He sat on the edge gingerly, not trusting it to not give out given it's age and misuse.  And, of course, there was always the threat of bedbugs or other insects nesting within.  One had to be careful with old furniture.

“So how'd you do it Blaine?” Sam asked, looking to his couch-mate.

“Do what?”

“Get Hummel to drink with us?”

Blaine glanced towards Kurt, brow furrowed and then looked back to Sam, “I didn't do anything.  Santana took over the first half of watch for him…”

“Kurt never gives up watch duty.  He doesn't trust anyone else to watch his ass but himself.”

“Screw off Quinn.” Kurt snarled, taking another sip of the drink to which he was rapidly becoming acclimatized to.  

“Maybe if you screwed a bit more you'd be less of a bitch.” Quinn snapped back.

“See,” Kurt glanced over at Blaine, “Mean drunk.”

“Not drunk yet Hummel.”

“Right.”

“Why're you and Santana so short with him?” Blaine asked, looking meekly towards Quinn.

“Oh please.  We give as good as we get, and with him the only thing that gets through is directness.”

“But… that isn't being direct, it's being rude.”

“Blaine.  I can handle myself.”

Blaine signed and nodded, taking another drink while Quinn and Kurt held each other's gazes for a moment before she finally broke it off to take another swig.

“You know how hard it is to get Mercedes to notice me?” Sam suddenly spoke up towards the ceiling, staring off into air.  “I mean… what more do I have to do?”

“Try not screwing up all the time maybe?”

“Quinn.” Kurt warned.  It was one thing to be nasty to him, it was another to be that way towards Sam who was as gentle as they came.

“Most of the time I screw up it's in front of her too… and because I'm distracted by her…. I'm like… a walking calamity in front of her.”

“Have you… maybe tried being direct with her about how you like her?” Blaine suggested.

“Oh… god no… I can't do that.  She'd think I was a fool.”

A series of snickers erupted around Sam who looked up and around then, “What?  Why's that funny.”

“No reason Sam.  Just… maybe Blaine has a point.  She doesn't seem to be about subtlety.”  Kurt offered, sucking back his chuckles and drowning them out with another drink.

The blonde boy sighed and leaned his head back on the couch, “Maybe….”

“Besides, you can't screw up on guard duty.  If we ever get attacked you can't be tripping over your own feet because you see her.” Quinn tacked on.

That was something Kurt could see happening.  Sam was so lovesick over Mercedes that he would try to wave hello while an Other was trying to gut him.

“You guys ever been attacked before?” Blaine asked.

They all shook their heads.  

“No.  But we don't let our guard down either.  That's how trouble happens.”

“Makes sense.”

“You should check out some of the clothing in the master bedroom Blaine.  Some of the men's clothes look like they might fit Trent.”

“I'll do that… thanks.”

The next hour wore on as they talked about random things.  True to her nature, Quinn started becoming angry about everything as the alcohol began to affect her.

“Fucking Noah leaves his socks wherever the hell he wants!”
“They keep putting me on afternoon shifts.  I hate afternoon shifts.”
“I'm fucking tired of stew.  Is it so fucking hard to make something different?”
“Eight years and I still have stretch marks.  Nothing makes them go away.”
“Who the hell let Kitty in the clinic?  She's more arrogant than ever!”

Kurt just let the alcohol wash over him.  He felt warm, especially in the tips of his ears and down in his toes, but he didn't think he was any different than usual.  The whiskey had grown on him and he sipped it gingerly throughout Quinn's ranting and Sam's remorseful moanings about Mercedes.  Periodically Blaine would chirp in about something or giggle in such a delightful way Kurt couldn't help but grin at the sound.

Blaine was definitely a goofy drunk.

“We should dance.  We should dance here since everyone else is dancing there!”  He suggested, standing up and wobbling as he did, gravity hitting him square in the gut.  Sam was quick to grab his arm though and pull him back.

“Whoa, whoa.  Calm down.”

“But we should dance.”  Blaine's head snapped back to Kurt, “Don't you think we should dance?”

Kurt chuckled and shook his head, “No.  We should definitely not dance.”

And at some point, Blaine began sitting upside down, legs hung over the back of the couch while his head tipped over the seat.  “Why don't you have another kid Quinn?  Beth is such a sweetie…”

Kurt and Sam both tuned in on that, trying to shush him before Quinn heard, but it was too late.  Her eyes teared up and she looked away, “Can't.”

“Does Noah not want another because I know….”  He hiccuped before continuing, “I know all these guys who would find you totally hot.”

She laughed at that and then looked back at Blaine, clearly bemused by his drunken antics.  “When I had her, there was some tearing that they couldn't fix without modern medical technology…. my womb is barren now.”

“Well that fucking sucks.” Blaine said, pointing his finger at her and spilling some of his drink in the process of making the sloppy gesture.  

She laughed and nodded, Kurt and Sam breathing a sigh of relief.  The fact that Quinn wanted another, but couldn't have another, was usually brought up when she was raging and drunk - though never directly like it just had been.  It seemed miraculous that Blaine had been granted a laugh from her.

“I don't think I've ever heard you curse before Blaine.” Kurt mused, adeptly changing the topic to avoid any chance of rousing Quinn's ire.

“That's… that's…. ‘cause I don't.”  He wiggled his eyebrows a little at Kurt, who grinned at the upside down face he was receiving.  “I don't curse…. curse words….”

“You just did.”

“No I didn't.”

“Dude.  You totally did.” Sam spoke up.

“Well… fuck.”

They all laughed at that.  Kurt had to wonder if the alcohol was affecting him more than the heat spreading through him because he never laughed so easily.  Still, laughing was hardly scandalous and definitely forgivable behaviour.

“We should sing.”

“No Blaine.  No singing.”

Blaine ignored Kurt's directive and began singing.  The song was not any one in particular, but a medley of different songs, all segwayed by Blaine humming and making lala noises as he seemed to be unclear on the lyrics.  His antics though had the other three chucking and shaking their heads.

“You've got a nice voice.”  Quinn admitted, suddenly eyeing up Blaine with catlike intensity.

“I like singin'.... it's good for me.” Blaine murmured, eyes closing as he hummed a tune.

“So Blaine… you really gay….?” Was the blonde woman's next question.

“Oh no no no no.”  Sam snapped and wagged a finger at Quinn, “None of this now.  You know what happened last time.”

“Wha?  I'm gay…. and what happened last time?” Blaine asked, eyes cracking open and looking blearily towards Quinn.

“Hmph.”  Quinn looked away, “Nothing.”

“Quinn and Noah had a falling out over something that happened once on a scavenging, that's all Blaine.” Kurt interceded, trying to stop the dialogue from continuing any further.

“Yah.  Because she went all crazy slut on all the guys.” Sam said, effectively nulling Kurt's effort to get through without any fallout.

“Oh please.”  Quinn snapped back at Sam, “You weren't even there to know.”

“She even tried to seduce Kurt!”

“Really?”

Kurt groaned and looked away, “Let's not talk about this.”

“Yes.  Let's not.”  Quinn trilled, glowering at Sam.

“Didja think you'd try n' get the gay outta me Quinn?  Cause I think you're pretty and all… but I like weiner.”

“Thank you.  Got that.”  She managed to muster as Sam and Kurt giggled together.

“Like I said Blaine, she tried it on Kurt too.”  Sam noted.

“Did ya' go for it Kurt?” Blaine asked, head rolling towards Kurt.

“No!” Kurt said insistently and then happened to glance at Quinn who looked pained, “I mean… yah… okay… Quinn's… okay…. for a girl… but I'm not…. Look.  I'm not having this conversation.”

More laughter and then more drinking.  Kurt enjoyed the feeling of tingling warmth running up and down his fingers and toes.  They felt feather light, and the pain he usually ignored in his back wasn't even bothering him at all.  Maybe there was something to this drinking thing.  He was definitely a whiskey man if this evening was any indication of how whiskey tasted and felt.  He'd have to look out for the stuff on any further missions they set out on.  At the very least, it would help keep him warm on a cold winter's night.

“I wish I knew how it ended….”  Sam grunted, once again speaking to the ceiling.

“How what ended?”

“The video game I was playing when all the shit hit the fan.”

Quinn snorted, “Of all the things you want to know… it's a video game you're lamenting?”

He lifted his head to look at her, “Well… yah.  I mean, I was at my cousin's place when The Tides happened.  My family was all back in California so I can safely assume what happened to them…. and I always told them I loved them whenever we parted ways…. so… I mean, I miss them, but I don't regret not saying anything to them or stuff… but it was a really intense game and had a good story….”

Quinn rolled her eyes and looked back away as Sam continued on, speaking a language foreign to Kurt as he described the game mechanics and plot.  Blaine however seemed to understand and as he nodded and asked Sam questions about the game, Kurt watched him.

Blaine came to him now for weekly shaves, citing that Kurt did such a good job when he was sick and he didn't want to appear to be an unsightly neighbour and reduce property values.  Kurt, amused by it, agreed and was now using up his razors like he never had before to keep Blaine's coarse dark hair at bay.  The effect was worth it though.  Clean shaved, or even with a little bit of stubble, Blaine was much easier on the eyes.  It drew the focus away from his chin to his eyes, which Kurt could never seem to get enough of.  

At some point though, he must have lost himself in his mind because the next thing he noticed was honey amber eyes looking back at him inquisitively.  “You okay Kurt?”

He shook it off, “Yeah… yeah…. just.  I should probably nap before watch.”

“Look's like someone beat you to it.”  Sam noted, pointing with his bottle towards Quinn who had fallen asleep in her chair and making small, breathy snores.

They chuckled, though quietly, and Kurt sat up - and then immediately sat down when his vision started swirling and his balance was off.  “Whoa…”

The other boys chuckled and then Blaine rolled himself backwards off the couch and stood up in front of Kurt, offering him a hand, “Come on.  I'll help you.”

“Don't need help….”  Kurt huffed indignantly and pushed himself up again.  It was a mistake though because as soon as he did it, the waves of vertigo hit him again and he swooned in place. “Oh…”

Blaine's hands immediately reached to steady Kurt, one under each of his elbows.  “Easy.  Come on.”

Kurt let himself be led, slowly, down the hall and up the stairs, hoping that Sam would forget the sight by morning.   Everything seemed so much more fuzzy now that he was on his feet.  Walls seemed to blend into the carpets and Kurt found himself intensely interested in his own feet as he stared at them the entire trip to the room.

“I used to have nicer shoes….”  He lamented to Blaine, leaning against the doorway when Blaine opened the room for them.

“I have to admit… never looked at your feet.”  Blaine murmured, once again taking Kurt by the elbow to take him inside the room.

“I've looked at yours.  Your shoes are nasty.”

“Well you can help me find new ones tomorrow.”

“Your naked toes are kind of cute though.”

Blaine flushed and Kurt giggled at the sight,  sitting down with a flop on the edge of the bed.  

“Right… I had almost forgot that you've seen me naked.”

“All of you!”  

Something about it became insanely funny to Kurt and he erupted into mad giggles, having to choke for breath as he tried to regain some semblance of composure.

“Am I that ugly naked?”

“Pfft!”  Kurt laid back on the bed, stretching himself out and looking up at Blaine who continued to stand and look at him awkwardly.  “S'ok… you can sleep by me.  I'm too warm to care.”

Blaine hesitated for a moment, then slipped off his jacket and shoes, and, as an afterthought, his socks before climbing over Kurt and taking the spot by the wall.

“Aw.  You made your feet naked for me.” Kurt drawled, looking down his nose at the end of the bed.

“Least I could do.”  Blaine murmured into the pillow.  “Mmm… this kid had a nice bed.”

Without considering why or what the point was, Kurt kicked off his own shoes and slipped off his own socks using his toes, wiggling them once they were freed.  “There.  Now you can see my naked feet and we'll be even.”

Blaine laughed softly, rolling onto his side so he was looking towards Kurt, “I don't think that makes us even.”

“Well I'm not about to get out of my knickers for you so don't get excited.”

Blaine chuckled again, “Knickers… that's a funny word.”

“Know what else is a funny word?”  Kurt asked, rolling himself on his own side to face Blaine.  “Spatula.  Spa-tuuuuu-laaaa.  Feels funny on the tongue.”

Blaine laughed again, “That why you're not a chef?”

“Damn straight.”  Kurt huffed.  “Plus, until the kitchen has a supply line with more fruits I like, I don't want to cook in there.”

“Mmm… what kind of fruits you like?”

Kurt didn't have to think about it.  “Peaches… pomegranates…. banana's…. cherries… I have been craving a good cherry cheesecake for ten years.”

Blaine made a small yawn, then smiled sweetly towards Kurt, “I'll figure out how to make you one….”

Kurt smiled back, but didn't respond.  There was no way Blaine could make good on that, and it wouldn't do to entertain the thought, and yet he didn't feel like he could quash Blaine's offerings with reality.  Instead he just watched Blaine stare at him until black lashes fluttered shut and a familiar soft snoring began.

Kurt watched him for awhile.  When Blaine had been sick, he only got close to him in hurried rushes to keep him clean and fed and watered so he could avoid germ exposure.  Now, with nothing to threaten his immune system, and a feeling of complete inhibition floating over him, he stared.  Noted how rosy and plump Blaine's lips were, or how his cheekbones peeked whenever he took a breath.

He could kiss those lips and no one would ever know the difference.

With a sharp snap of his head, he rolled away from Blaine then.  He couldn't think things like that.  That wasn't him.  That wasn't right.  Kurt focused on sleeping, and was happy to find that sleep overtook him once he managed to let the blur in his mind take over and fizzle out any thoughts he had left in his head.

When Kurt woke next, it was because a body was pressed tightly against his back.  His first instinct was panic and he shot up, forgetting the alcohol in his system.  With a moan he dropped back on his elbows as fog filled his vision and was then replaced by a set of amber eyes that looked at him with worry.

“Kurt?”

He had been snuggling with Blaine… or rather, Blaine had been snuggling him in his sleep.  They hadn't been sleeping long given that the moonlight was still streaming light in at close to the same angle it had been when he remembered walking into this room - even though that memory was blurry as hell in his head.  

“I… ah…. you were…”

“You're gorgeous.”

The words caught Kurt off guard, and the first thing he noticed, aside from the sudden intense pounding in his chest, was Blaine's tongue slipping between his own rosy lips to lick them.  He could kiss those lips… he could….

Blaine was the one who closed the gap while Kurt was still focusing on those lips and whether it's the alcohol still strumming through his veins, or Kurt just accepting life and wanting to get past surviving, he slammed himself, and his lips back against Blaine's.  The kiss is sloppy, but so much better than the one forced on him years ago.  Blaine tastes sweet beyond the flavour of the drink he had been consuming earlier and even the stubble rubbing back against Kurt's face doesn't stop him.  It's only when he needs to breath does he pull back and look at Blaine in, shock settling into him as he recognized what he had just done.

“I…. you….”

“In the moonlight… you're gorgeous.  You're always gorgeous… but especially right now…”  Blaine rambled.  He looked at Kurt's lips as he spoke and Kurt couldn't help but notice how the honey eyes had become overtaken by Blaine's pupils, blown black with lust.

Would he ever get this chance again?  

Keeping his eyes locked on Blaine, until Blaine is looking back at his own eyes, Kurt peeled off his jacket, and then pulled his shirt over his head.  He can do this, he says to himself, he can take this opportunity to live.  

As soon as the shirt is off, Blaine's lips seemed to be magnetized to his chest and Kurt is kissed in places he never even knew were sensitive without any warning.  With a mewl, Kurt fell back on the bed, eyes winched shut, letting Blaine take charge.  Kurt didn't know what to do, but Blaine must.  Blaine, so worldly, must have been with other men before and could show Kurt what he had been missing out on.

The thought didn't unsettle Kurt, because, aside from the fact that the alcohol was still coursing through him and making him completely forgiving of everything that ever was and ever could be, all his attention was all focused on Blaine's mouth and what it was doing to his nipple, sucked in between those lips that had just been connected with his own while Blaine's tongue dabbed at it inside his mouth.  Blaine's hands wander meanwhile, first grazing lightly down Kurt's sides which makes him shudder and then Blaine's thumbs tuck into the waistband of Kurt's pants. All Kurt does is lift his hips to allow Blaine to pull off the last of his clothing, leaving him there, exposed in the moonlight, to the first person who has seen him naked in over a decade.  

It's then when Blaine gives him a bit of reprieve and his lips leave Kurt's chest allowing Kurt to unclench his eyes and look at Blaine, who sits straddled over him and looks down at his naked body.  It struck Kurt then that he didn't know how he would look to anyone else, and a bit of self consciousness creeps through his alcohol induced haze and he starts to worry about how he must look, or if there's something wrong with him.  Would Blaine see all his scars, gathered from years of hunting and running missions?  Would he notice how pale Kurt was?  Maybe he would see that, no matter how much Kurt tried to eat, his ribs always protruded over his stomach.  It isn't until Blaine speaks again that Kurt is able to allow his arousal to dominate his mind again.

“So gorgeous…”

Those two words relieve Kurt like nothing else and he exhales just as Blaine pulls off his own shirt and tosses it to the floor atop Kurt's discarded items.  Maybe it is the moonlight, but Blaine looks more than radiant with that light shining on him, accenting all his muscle tone and making the fuzz on his chest and stomach glimmer.  Kurt reaches out to trace the line of hair that runs down Blaine's stomach to the edge of his pants.

“There's lubricant in the night table.”  Kurt murmurs.  It's nothing he thought he'd ever say, and the suggestion behind it leaves nothing to question.  He's absolutely taking advantage of the moment and living life to the fullest - sex included.

Blaine nods, eyes never straying from Kurt as he unzips his jeans and peels off both his pants and boxers together, adding them to the pile before leaning over and opening the drawer.  Kurt couldn't help but smirk when he saw Blaine grimace briefly upon being faced with those dirty magazines from earlier, but he managed to grab the lube and shut the drawer without losing his erection, which bobs with each of his movements and which Kurt can't seem to stop looking at.  So different from his own, but perfect on Blaine.  

“Roll over.”

Kurt obeys, moving himself under Blaine's straddled thighs and exposing more of his naked self to this man. He didn't know how or when it was decided he would be bottoming, but he was glad that, for once, someone else was taking charge.  

The position makes it hard for Kurt to see what's happening, but he doesn't get left feeling curious for long because he feels something cold and slimy rubbing against his exposed pucker.  This is it.  He won't be a virgin anymore.  Taking in an anxious breath, he waited for the barrier to be breached.

Except when it is and Blaine is pushing himself in, Kurt isn't truly prepared and neither is the tight ring of muscle.  It doesn't feel good and Kurt let out a small, sharp cry he had no way to keep inside.  How could it feel good?  Everything stretched and he felt like he was going to be torn into pieces right up from his spine.  There was no time for his body to adjust and Blaine's hands grip him tightly on his hips, holding his already frozen body in place as he pulled out slowly and then pushed back in again with a groan.  The second breach just as painful as the first.  Then the third.  Then the fourth.

Kurt bit down on his lower lip and kept himself braced, his knuckles white as his hands gripped the pillow with brutal force.  He waited and hoped that it would be over soon, and then, it starts to hurt less and Blaine's cock brushes up against something inside of Kurt that seems to burn pleasure back into his body.  After a minute, the pain subsides and the pleasure overwhelms him enough that Kurt begins to groan along with Blaine and cry out words he can't even process the meaning of as they fly from his mouth.  

“Shh… you'll wake someone….” Blaine whispers above him between the slaps of his balls against Kurt.

The idea of someone coming in to ruin this makes Kurt whine and he muffled his mouth on the pillow.  At some point his hips had began rolling back against Blaine to meet his every thrust and the friction of his own cock rubbing against the mattress gave Kurt the friction necessary to come, crying out into the bed as he did and making a sticky mess between him and the sheet he was on.

Whether it's the sound of Kurt orgasming, or just the natural time for it, Blaine pounds himself in one last time and keens.  His fingers dig into Kurt's hips as he holds himself inside of Kurt and releases.  There is no condom, no way to protect them from any diseases either one might carry, and Kurt doesn't care.  The warmth and bliss that runs through him in that moment make him absolutely oblivious to anything except his own contentment.  He doesn't care, and it's a wonderful feeling.

When Blaine pulls himself out after a moment, Kurt hisses.  For feeling so horrid in the beginning, he doesn't want to lose the fullness he quickly became accustomed to.  The air is cold as it seeps into him and his hips and ass seem positively frigid without Blaine attached to them.  

Blaine grabbed a T-shirt from one of the drawers after getting up and off Kurt, and went about cleaning Kurt off - so delicate in his motions that Kurt ended up falling asleep again.  It wasn't until a couple hours later that Kurt woke up again, a blanket had been drawn up over him and a warm body pressed against him again.  That's when Kurt began to inwardly panic.

At first, it's just because there's an arm around him again - though this time he isn't spooked by it.  The arm does remind him though of what he's done, and he knows, without any shadow of a doubt then, that he's an easy drunk.  He let down all his walls he had worked so hard on keeping up and there was no going back.  He had lost all his inhibitions and paid for it.

Then it's the fact that he feels Blaine naked against him.  Every single coarse curly hair on the man is making Kurt itchy all pressed against him.  On top of that, he can't help but feel disgusted by the dried come that had snuck out of his ass and dried between his legs.  It made him feel used.  

Kurt carefully took Blaine's arm and lifted it up, sneaking out of the other man's hold despite Blaine's sleep induced attempts to draw him back with grabby fingers.  Kurt slowly got dressed and rubbed the grit off on his legs. If the ache in his head wasn't bad enough, the ache in his ass was worse.  It feels like a stab going straight up his spine and all the muscles he never knew existed in his ass throbbed intensely.  

He snuck out of the bedroom, and tiptoed down the stairs.  Sam and Quinn were still on the chair and couch down there respectively, though both were asleep. He passed by them to go into the kitchen, which faces the front yard and is where Santana was keeping watch.

“So, curls took the stick out of your ass and replaced it with his own huh?” She mused, lips twitching up into a knowing smirk as she took note of him and slipped off the counter where she had been watching through the window.

“Oh god….”

She snickered and gave him a pat on the shoulder as she passed by, “Don't worry Hummel.  The other two were too drunk to hear your moans of ‘Oh god!  Oh yes!  More!' that I had the pleasure of listening to, and I won't tell anyone.  Don't want your reputation as a frigid bitch to be ruined.”  

Kurt didn't say anything in response.  The only thing worse than having had sex like that was that Santana listened in, and he had nothing to say in his defense.  It was an odd blend of grief, guilt, and regret that he felt, and he didn't know which one to address first - so he dealt with the insistent pounding in his temples by grabbing a water bottle and drinking it all down.  He heard that washing out the alcohol helps with a hangover, and since this is his first real hangover, he was eager for any relief.  

What would his dad say about it?  That's Kurt's next worry as he sat up on the counter, keeping his bow at his side and not readied in both hands for the first time since he's ever done a watch.  His body ached, and he didn't really trust that he could make a clean shot then and there given his state, but he wasn't about to ask Santana to come back and watch for him, nor would he risk waking Quinn and dealing with her well known morning angst.  Sam and Blaine couldn't do watch - they're both still newbies for scavenging, and Kurt wasn't sure he could handle talking to Blaine. So Kurt sucked it up and kept his bleary eyes on the world outside, watching with zombie like reverie as the sun rises over the horizon.  He has never wanted sleep more than he wants it then.

And his head.  Between the thudding of his hangover, that makes every small movement feel like his brain is being slapped against his skull, he now had to address the repercussions of his drunken debacle.  His dad wouldn't have been proud.  He knows that without question.  His dad would have told him that people shouldn't connect in that way unless they love one another.  His dad, who he misses more then than he has in a long time.  He needs his dad to talk to.  He needs his dad to listen to him.

Kurt can't help it when his eyes teared up, and if anyone came in then, he would blame it on the hangover.  The truth, however, is much more sobering.  He's let himself down.  He gave into something that moron Karofsky said combined with the line blurring effects of alcohol.  He gave into living - or what he thought was living in his drunken haze.  That wasn't living.  That was a bit of pleasure at the cost of a lot of self respect.   He could have gone on without experiencing that and been none the wiser.  Now he would have to figure out how to act around Blaine, and pray to some god he didn't even believe in that Santana was actually honest about keeping her mouth shut.  

And he's definitely never touching alcohol again.