It was nighttime before he gathered himself enough to return to the house, and Kurt was asleep.  This time, Blaine allowed himself to sit on the very edge of the bed—almost close enough to feel the boy's body heat—as he watched him sleep.

“You came back.”  The words fell across the darkness, and Blaine straightened, surprised.

“Of course I did.”

Kurt sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist and his nightshirt stretched just too far across the broadness of his shoulders.  His hair was mussed, his eyes bright and tired, the sweetness of youth all too evident in his sleep-worn face.  He reached forward to trace his fingers over the contours of Blaine's face, and for long moments Blaine didn't breathe.

“I want you to explain it to me,” Kurt said.  “You owe me that much.”

Blaine nodded, catching the boy's hand as he tried to pull it back, holding it tightly in his own.  “I don't know where to start.  What do you want to know?”

“How old are you?”

Blaine smiled in spite of himself—such a simple, childlike question.  “Only one hundred and forty-nine.  I was turned during the Revolutionary War, when I was nineteen.”

Kurt inhaled sharply.  “Okay,” he said slowly.  “Why are you here then, with us?”

“That's… complicated.  The vampire who turned me, Selina… she was your great great grandmother.  More greats than that, but I don't remember exactly how many.  When she was turned, she had a small child.  She changed me so that I could watch over your family and make sure no harm comes to them.  That is, no harm that might be… unnatural.”

“So you're stuck doing this forever?”

“I don't remember, but she said that I swore a vow to her before she agreed to turn me… that I was afraid to die.”

Kurt nodded.  “That's… not very nice for you.”

“I've made peace with it,” Blaine told him honestly.  “And it brought me to you.  Did you know you're the first male that's been born to the line?  I don't think she wanted that to happen.”

“Well, I've never been good at being quite what people want, have I?” he said with a laugh.

“You're exactly what I want.”

“Oh.”  Kurt's mouth fell open, begging Blaine to be kissed.  “About that, I'm… how does that work?”

Blaine took a moment to think it over, uncertain how much he was prepared to share.  “Some vampires have mates.  The second you were born, I… I can't explain it, really.  You made me feel alive again.”

Kurt's fingers became a vice-grip around Blaine's hand.  “I've always felt that.  Like… like I'm yours.  But it's confusing sometimes.  I wasn't sure what it meant.”

“You are mine,” Blaine spoke seriously, his eyes boring into Kurt's.  “You're my mate.”

A shiver of arousal passed between them, the thud of their hearts sounding loudly through the still air.

“Does that mean…”

“Will I turn you?”

“Yes,” Kurt breathed.

“I want to, and I will… but I can't.  Selina swore a vow that no fang would pierce the throats of her descendants, and when we made our agreement, I swore the same.”

“How…?”

“I'll find a way around it, Kurt,” Blaine said earnestly, clasping his free hand over Kurt's, engulfing his pale fingers completely.  “I can't… I can't be without you now.  That's got to be stronger, right?”

Kurt's face flushed in the faint moonlight.  “I'm scared.  Blaine… I don't know if I can do that.  Be a… a vampire.”

A spike of pain shot through Blaine at his hesitation.  “You don't have a choice.”

“Blaine…”

“You're mine, Kurt.  Mine.  It won't be so bad; you'll see.  I'll help you through it.”

“But how… Selina…?”

“I'll work it out.”

“You don't have to be so harsh, you know.”  Kurt's tone was abruptly sharp; Blaine could sense the anxiety it hid.  He knew this was a lot to take it, but lying and cajoling the boy wasn't going to help.

“It's in my nature.  It will be in yours, too.  But I promise I'll be as gentle with you as I can.”

Kurt shuddered—probably at the implications of Blaine's words—and Blaine moved closer.  His hand came up to cup Kurt's face, the pad of his thumb brushing where Kurt's blood pulsed warm and thick under his skin.  “I'm not ready,” Kurt said.

Blaine didn't respond.

“Blaine, can you… can you just kiss me?”

Kurt was asking him—asking him—like it would be some sort of sacrifice.  Blaine wondered if he could just anything, but he wasn't worried enough to say no.  He closed the distance between them slowly, holding Kurt's gaze.  Blaine held himself back at first… just a soft brush of lips, that was what Kurt deserved.  But Kurt's mouth was sweeter than his wildest fantasies had conjured, and before he could stop it Blaine was licking inside, Kurt's body flush against his as he cried out prettily, the sound reminiscent of the music Blaine used to love before passion burned away with his soul.

Now Kurt was passion.

Losing control, Blaine ripped their lips apart.

“Touch yourself for me, beautiful.”

“Blaine,” Kurt breathed, a fresh blush heating his cheeks.

“Let me see you,” Blaine urged again.

Already, Kurt's hands were sweeping across his own body.

*******

Blaine refused to touch him after that day save for a chaste brush of their lips, too afraid of taking things too far.  He still snuck into Kurt's room most nights, sometimes just to watch, other times to wake the boy and tell him to disrobe and watch…

Blaine would whisper instructions into Kurt's ear, tell him what to do and how to do it, sometimes tell him the things that Blaine would like to do if he could.  Kurt followed every direction to the letter, his cheeks colored pink more often than not.  Soon he learned to wait for Blaine's command before his back arched sharply, and he would finally climax, a cry of Blaine's name on his lips.

Blaine pushed him a little farther every time until one night, bent awkwardly with two oiled fingers working furiously in and out of his ass, Kurt began to beg for Blaine's touch.

“You can't do that, my sweet,” Blaine told him once he'd come down from his high.  “It's too risky.  I won't be able to resist you.”

Face hidden away in the shadows, Kurt smiled.

The next time he did it, Blaine put an end to their activities completely, his fury filling the room.

“But I'm yours,” Kurt protested, still on his knees with his nightshirt rucked up to his chest and the tantalizing curve of his cheeks on display.  “I don't understand why you won't take me.”

Blaine rounded on him then, taking Kurt's arm and toppling him onto his back and pressing him into the bed, scarcely room for a breath between them.  Kurt moaned and tried to rut, his still-swollen cock trapped cruelly between their bodies.

“You don't understand that I'm a monster,” Blaine told him, voice purposely harsh.  “You don't understand how easily I could…”

“But I'm your mate,” Kurt argued boldly.  “You won't hurt me, Blaine; I know you won't.”

Blaine bore his weight down further.  “Those books your father just got, is there one on vampires?”

Reluctantly Kurt nodded, a hint of fear finally beginning to register on his face.

“Have you looked at it?”

“No.”

“Go,” Blaine said, moving off of him abruptly.  “Go get it, right now.  Bring it to me.”

“But…”

“Go!” Blaine hissed, his tone and expression brooking no argument.

Not looking at him, Kurt stood and righted his clothing, slid into his slippers and snatched the candle off the nightstand.  Then he was gone.

Blaine sat on the bed while he waited, his face buried in his hands, fingers twisting into and tugging on his curls.

A few minutes later Kurt returned, wordlessly handing him the book.  Blaine paged through it frantically, finally finding a suitable image.  “Here!”  He thrust the book into Kurt's hands, pointing out an illustration.

It was a woman, or at least it was her body.  She lay pale and broken in a pool of her own blood, puncture wounds littering her skin and set apart by the ugly black bruises that had formed around them.

“This is what I am,” Blaine told Kurt, his patience wearing thin.  “This is what I do!”

“But not to me,” Kurt whispered, staring transfixed at the picture.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?  How much I thirst for you?  God, Kurt, other blood is appalling to me now; all I crave is you!  I want to pin you and fuck you and carve into your throat and drink until there's nothing left…”

“And that's what you want me to become?  You want to reduce me to this too?”  There were tears in Kurt's eyes, but he was still clutching the book to himself pathetically, as though it might keep him safe.

“If I can control myself long enough,” Blaine conceded coldly.

“I thought… I thought…” Kurt's voice was broken, choked as he tried to force the words out.  “I thought you loved me,” he finished weakly.

Blaine closed his eyes, spoke in slow, measured words, “I feel so much for you, Kurt, you have no idea.  But I told you; I'm a monster…”

“Get out,” Kurt said, his face like ice.

“Kurt…”

“Get out or do it now!” Kurt muttered savagely, his voice rising in pitch.

“You'll wake the house, Kurt, please…”

“GET OUT!!!” Kurt raged, and Blaine finally fled, hearing the book hit off of the doorframe and fall to the floor behind him.

*******

The problem was that Blaine couldn't leave, not with his oath to Selina still hanging over his head.  Instead he approached Elizabeth the next morning and asked politely for a leave of absence (the household appeared as oblivious to the fight that had occurred in the middle of the night as they always were to anything fishy about Blaine.)  Once obtained, he holed up in the barn, resigned to stay out of sight.

He didn't think it would be a walk in the park, but he wasn't prepared for this.

A few weeks in and every part of Blaine's body ached—his limbs, his heart, his fangs.  He fed almost every night, most of the time leaving his prey dead in spite of his best efforts.  With only the occasional, far-off glimpse of Kurt to sustain him, Blaine was driven mad with thirst.

Underneath that, and if he were honest often masked by it, Blaine was pining.  He missed Kurt.  He missed the boy's wit, his endless chatter about the books he read, the ridiculous getups he would sew, watching him laugh with his sister.  It was this that made Blaine realize something that he'd never once considered.

Kurt was his friend.

Blaine remembered friends from before, but that had been so long ago he'd forgotten what it felt like—simple, amiable companionship, although with Kurt of course it was something even deeper.

Mate.  Maybe the word meant more than he thought.

It was with new understanding that Blaine finally went to him one night, head cleared only slightly by the two bodies he'd sacrificed to secure Kurt's safety.

He stared at him for several long moments, sprawled and lovely in the moonlight that streamed through the window, until Kurt startled awake, perhaps sensing his presence.

“Blaine?”

Blaine stepped closer, right up to the bed, resting a hand reassuringly against Kurt's cheek.  “I'm here.”

“I… I thought… I didn't… Blaine.”

Throwing his former caution to the wind, Blaine finally drew Kurt into his arms, cradling him like the precious thing he was, inhaling deeply like the starving creature Blaine had no choice but to be.

*******

After that they moved slowly but always together.

“Can I touch you?” Kurt asked, eyes wide as Blaine's hands traveled reverently over his body.

Blaine sucked in a breath.  “I don't know,” he said honestly.  “We can try.”

“I want to.”

“Then do it,” Blaine agreed, gaze locked on Kurt's.

The barest touch like flames, starting at his neck and flickering down to trace his collarbone, the sharp lines of his shoulders, a fleeting burn rubbing at his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt and lower, lower until—hesitant, sweet—his mate's hand finally, finally cupped his hardness.  Hissing, he arched into it.

“Does it…”

“Just, stay there,” Blaine said too-harshly, barely restraining himself from flipping them and holding Kurt down and grinding and ripping fabric until there was nothing but flesh and—God—and blood.  “Slowly,” he cautioned once he gained a little more control.

For some reason, Blaine's mind had latched on to Kurt being young.  Kurt was soft and boyish and pretty, would touch him gently, would fearfully submit.  The idea wasn't entirely unfounded, only somewhere along the way, Kurt had begun to grow up.  There was still some fear there, yes, and Kurt was still—would always be—fiercely beautiful.  But the fingers tracing him intimately were long and steady, the hands large if graceful; Kurt's body was lithe and broad and narrow in just the right places, delicately defined, but defined nevertheless.

At just seventeen, Kurt felt like a man.

His touch grew more confident, bolder.  Blaine let his control slide just the right amount, wanting so badly to surrender, to allow himself to truly enjoy this.  A moment later, he felt the smooth glide of Kurt's hand working under his trousers and jerked back sharply, caught unaware.

“Please, Blaine, I just want to see you…”

“God.”

“It's only fair,” Kurt persisted.  “You won't hurt me; I know you won't.”

A man, a boy… still so naïve.

“It's not a good idea.”

“Did you feed recently?”

Blaine nodded.  He was now in the habit of doing so every night before he came to Kurt or, more rarely, Kurt came to him.

“Then let me, please.  Let me see you.  I want…” he swallowed, hesitant, his Adam's apple bobbing temptingly at his throat, “I want to make you come.”

Blaine sighed and looked at him, still dressed but his shirt askew, baring one shoulder, his eyes a vivid, pleading blue even in the darkness.  “Okay,” he said softly, hating the decision even as he made it.

“Okay?”

“If I tell you to back off… if I seem dangerous, even a little… Kurt…”

“I know; I promise.”

“I can't lose you.  I couldn't live with myself if…”

“Shh, I know,” Kurt soothed, leaning over him and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.  “It will be okay, Blaine.”

“Just, let me—“ he paused, pushing his way past Kurt to stand.  He stripped quickly, clinically, as aware of Kurt's awestruck eyes on his body as he was of the churning nerves in his stomach.  Naked, he took reluctant steps back towards the bed.

“Blaine,” Kurt said, like he couldn't help it, like a prayer.  A pale, shaky hand reached out to brush against the trail of hair on his stomach.  “You're beautiful.”

He'd heard it before, so many times, but never like this.  It had never meant anything before, and Blaine felt shaken.  How was it that this striking man-child could so easily bring a vampire to his knees?

“Thank you,” he said simply.

Kurt nodded.  “Lay down?”

Blaine did so, stretching out on the bed and it felt so strange; he felt so exposed.  But then Kurt's hands were on him, his breath hot where it fell over Blaine's neck and ear.  Kurt wasted little time, his fingers wrapping around Blaine's cock and moving, awkward and unsteady and Blaine had never felt anything so perfect in all his days on Earth.

“Is it good?” Kurt asked, suddenly appearing in Blaine's field of vision.

“It's… too good,” Blaine admitted.

“Could you… look at me?  Into my eyes?  Please?”

Blaine groaned, fucked up hard into Kurt's fist and heeded the request.  He didn't have a choice.

Fantasies of pierced flesh warred with the sensuous pleasure of Kurt's touch, but his mate's eyes kept him grounded, kept him human, or at least fed him the lie convincingly enough.  “Wanna bite you,” he cried out when the urge became unbearable—a confession or a warning, he wasn't sure—but it hardly mattered because he was already coming, streaking over Kurt's fist and making his already milky white skin glisten.

“See,” Kurt said once Blaine had calmed down, “I told you we could do it.”

Blaine wasn't so sure the whole thing wasn't a fluke, but he smiled at Kurt anyway, half his hunger sated, and pulled the boy down to tuck Kurt close against him, thirst be damned.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I guess we did.”

*******

The problem with giving a little was that Kurt kept wanting more, and most often Blaine found it impossible to say no.  So far, he'd managed to set the limit at getting off simultaneously, but he was worried the boundary would only hold for so long. 

And, of course, he was right.

“I don't see how it's any worse for you,” Kurt argued.  They were lying in bed together, both of them less clothed than Blaine considered ideal.

He fumbled for the right words, frustrated by the familiar argument.

“When we're… sexual… I have to focus.  Compartmentalize.  The thirst never goes away, and the desire makes it worse, and if I'm pleasuring you and you're pleasuring me… it would be too much, Kurt.  I'd lose control.”

“Then we'll stop,” Kurt said simply, moving to straddle him.  Blaine's hands closed around his hips on instinct.

“Kurt…”

“Shh, just let me—“ before Blaine could register what was happening, Kurt's hips dipped down, his clothed erection brushing just right against Blaine's own.

“Stop it!” Blaine snapped, trying to move away, but Kurt dropped his weight stubbornly, this time grinding into him, and Blaine couldn't keep himself from moaning and arching up in response.  “Kurt…”

“Feels so good Blaine,” Kurt murmured, working his hips steadily now.  Blaine stopped fighting, his grip tightening instead and aiding Kurt's movements.

“We need to stop,” Blaine tried feebly, but Kurt's body was against him, the heat and their desire growing sharper by the moment.  Kurt looked so lovely above him, pupils blown and tongue darting out to wet his lips and forehead glistening with the barest hint of sweat…

With a growl Blaine flipped them, cushioning Kurt's head with one hand while the other held them fast against one another.  Kurt was keening and writhing, his every movement feeding Blaine's own arousal.  Heightening it all was the rapid beat of his pulse, and from this angle Blaine could seeit pounding in his pale, perfect throat.  Groaning, he nuzzled his face against it, inhaling deeply to take in as much as he could of the amazing way his mate smelled.

“Mine,” he said mindlessly.

“God, yes,” Kurt agreed, hips still gyrating, head tilting back on instinct.

“I'm just gonna… just a little…” Blaine said, his body on fire as Kurt whined and offered up his throat, and just like that Blaine's fangs were sinking, slicing low on Kurt's neck, the sharp, marvelous taste of blood flooding his mouth as he swallowed greedily.

He was out of his mind, but after a few moments he heard Kurt moan and arch and come, his cries spurring Blaine's own arousal as he thrust and drank and soon found his own release.

The world began to clear and Kurt was whimpering, tiny little sounds of pleasure and pain.  Blaine could sense Kurt's body weakening—a strange feeling that he had never encountered before—and it was surprisingly easy to draw back, lick over the wound at Kurt's throat until he quieted and his blood began to clot.

Neither of them moved much; Kurt collapsed against Blaine while Blaine stroked his hair, the silence filling the room more comfortable than the thought of conversation.  Finally, Blaine couldn't take it anymore.

“I'm sorry,” he said, his guilt spilling out of him.

“For what?” Kurt whispered.  “You warned me, didn't you?  And besides, I… I liked it.  I think a part of me wanted it to happen.”

“I don't know what will happen now.  If Selina finds out…”

“Don't think about that,” Kurt urged him, sitting up and placing a warm hand against Blaine's cheek.  “We'll deal with it as it comes.”

Blaine nodded even though he didn't feel so reassured.  “Do you need anything?  Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, just a little dizzy.  Maybe some tea?  With honey?”

“Of course,” Blaine said, pressing a kiss to his forehead and moving to get up.

He felt Kurt watching him as he winced and squirmed—Blaine had never lacked foresight enough to come in his pants before, and it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience in the aftermath.  Kurt's eyes followed Blaine to the door.

“Blaine?”

Blaine turned around, raising an eyebrow in question.

Kurt looked nervous, fingers picking at threads in the quilt.  “I… I love you, you know.”

Blaine stared at him.  The moonlight made his pale shoulders glow, lit the delicate features of his beautiful face.

“Do... do you love me?”

“Yes,” Blaine's voice was hushed, the word coming unbidden.  “I think I do.”

His mate's smile lit Blaine's heart long after he'd left the room to make Kurt's tea.

*******

There was little left to come between them now with fate already tempted.  Blaine waited in fear of Selina's appearance for several weeks, but she never came, and slowly he began to relax… until another potential problem arose.

Burt was suspicious.  For whatever reason—whatever happenstance kept Selina's descendants from any misgiving about Blaine's continual presence in their lives—it didn't work on Burt. 

It definitely didn't work on Burt after he caught Blaine sneaking out of Kurt's room in the wee hours of the morning, and the argument that followed was unpleasant to say the least.

“He's bedding our son, Elizabeth!  How on Earth can you not see, I—“

“Did he tell you that?”

“Of course not!  What man is foolish enough to admit his own sin?  If he is a man at all…”

“This is ridiculous,” Elizabeth retorted, voice raised for the entire household to hear.  “Blaine is a good man; I'm sure he had a noble purpose for being in Kurt's room at that hour.  And to imply that our boy is that kind, Burt—“

“Of course he's that kind, Lizzy, and you've damned well known it as long as I have!  That's not the point.  The point is that that bastard was notchecking on him because he ‘heard a noise,' although I'll tell you I've heard several ungodly noises coming from Kurt's room of late!”

“I'm sure you're mistaken; I've heard no such thing.”

“And you, my dear, are out of line!”  Burt sighed loudly—loud enough that Blaine could hear it through the wall.  “I want him gone from this house, Elizabeth, and I mean it!”

“Burt, you can't…”

“Yes I damn well can!”

“It's my house!”

Silence.

“It's my house, Burt, and I say he stays.”

“I'm going for a walk.”  The sentence was barely audible.

“Burt, please, I—“

“I'll be back in time for dinner.”

A door slammed, and a woman sobbed.  Blaine sank down against the wall, wondering what exactly he should do about the mess he'd made.