His job wasn’t always easy. In fact, more often than not he’d end up questioning why he was doing what he was doing, but every single time he was able to help a kid find a good home where words wouldn’t be used as weapons and weapons wouldn’t be used against them, it was a small victory for him, and that was something to celebrate.

A sweet, succulent smell drifted down to him from his door. Santana lived on coffee and threats and had never learned how to cook, which meant Kurt was cooking. That had to be an improvement.

He shouldered his way into the apartment to find Santana strutting around, laughing at something Kurt said. Her hemline was nearly pornographic and her shoes made her tower over Blaine in a way he was never really comfortable with. Santana was intimidating on a good day, but god did he love her.

“Hey Shorty. Hummel’s making bully something?”

“Bouilliabaisse?” Blaine asked, eyes lighting up. He remembered the first time Kurt had made it for him and then spent nearly half an hour teaching him how to pronounce it.

“Yeah, that’s it. He said it’s your favorite. Why doesn’t he make my favorite?”

“Smells delicious.” Blaine said, ignoring Santana’s comment and slipping into the kitchen. He shuffled up behind Kurt, resting his head on Kurt’s shoulder, watching as he worked. Kurt pushed him back with a pop of his ass.

“Out, you’re distracting.”

“Hello to you too.”

“Go sit down with Santana, I’ll be serving in a minute.”

Blaine wandered into the living room to find the dining room table, usually buried in various stacks of papers and art supplies and sheet music, cleaned off and set for three.

Dinner was delicious, but Kurt brushed off each of Blaine’s touches.

He didn’t think he was touching Kurt more than usual, but the questioning glances Santana kept giving him made him think otherwise. As the meal drew to a close, Santana hopped up on her feet, teetering on her sky-high heels and blew them a kiss.

“Thanks for dinner, but I’ve got a hot date.”

“After you ate?” Kurt asked.

“Not that kind of date.” Santana winked at Kurt and Kurt, at least, had the decency to blush. “Don’t wait up for me, I probably won’t be home tonight.”

Blaine helped Kurt clean up from dinner, still trying to figure out how to broach the topic of what happened last night when he found himself being thrown against the wall, Kurt’s lips fastened to his neck, hands sliding everywhere.

“Fuck, Kurt,” Blaine protested. He tried to push Kurt away, he really did, but if his hands got caught in Kurt’s shirt and wound up pulling him closer, that wasn’t really his fault, was it?

Kurt needed this. He needed this.

The more Kurt thought about it the more frustrated and annoyed and hurt he felt. Jude was his most recent and his only everything, but he was far from that for Jude, and he hated it. He hated that until yesterday Jude’s hands were the last to touch him, and even then, even with Blaine being ever-helpful Blaine, always trying so damn hard to give Kurt what he needed. Even with him doing something he never would have done at seventeen, it wasn’t enough.

The last man he’d touched, really touched was Jude and he needed to burn him from his memory, and Blaine, Blaine was there and sweet and so hot, age only making him more attractive, and if he was willing to help, then all the better.

Sealing his mouth over Blaine’s protests, he undid the buttons of Blaine’s shirt, his hands caressing each inch of exposed skin as he went. He slid the shirt over Blaine’s shoulders, tugging the sleeves off as he bent down to suck at Blaine’s nipple.

Blaine gasped above him, jerking his hips out and moaned loud.

Part of Kurt wished that Blaine wasn’t just doing this because Kurt needed it or because he couldn’t help the reaction of a hot, hard body against his. He wished that this didn’t make him just another faceless boy to Blaine, but another part of Kurt loved it. The way he was able to reduce Blaine to whimpering moans; by swirling his tongue around a small, pebbled nipple, by grazing his teeth along the nub and then sucking hard. It was a sick sort of payback for all the time Kurt was so in love with him and Blaine was not, but god it felt good.

Blaine’s hands twisting in his hair, rubbing over his neck, his low, throaty moans that went straight to Kurt’s cock; it was everything he could have imagined as that wide-eyed teenager and more, and it was exactly what he needed.

He’d gotten Blaine’s belt undone by the time he sank all the way to the floor, his tongue dipping into Blaine’s bellybutton. Finally, finally, finally, he slid down the zipper of Blaine’s pants, tugging them down far enough to expose Blaine’s cock and balls.

Blaine’s cock was hard and thick, thicker than Kurt, but a little shorter and sticking out prominently against the thick patch of wiry hair that surrounded him. Several veins stood out along his cock and Kurt couldn’t help snaking his tongue along them, reveling in the way Blaine’s breath hitched as Kurt touched him.

Kurt tongued along Blaine’s cock, before settling his mouth over Blaine’s balls, sucking each of them into his mouth and rolling his tongue over them.

Everything was so good, the way he smelled, the way he tasted. Something so man and so Blaine and so perfect. He drew his head back to stare and the glistening cock, wet from Kurt’s mouth, and Blaine’s hands fitted along his jaw, tilting his head up.

Even as his eyes were blown and his breathing irregular, Blaine tried to look serious.

“We need to talk about this.”

He didn’t need gentlemanly Blaine right now, right now he needed the Blaine that pushed him harder into the mattress, the Blaine that had fisted his cock only to come hard in his pants, rutting against Kurt.

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, Kurt, we really do. I can’t just keep letti—“ Blaine’s words broke off into a moan as Kurt sank his mouth down Blaine’s entire length, tongue laving along the underside. Blaine’s hands moved into his hair as Kurt sucked along his cock, taking him deeper, deeper, deeper and into his throat and Kurt groaned around it, the vibrations shooting right up Blaine’s spine until he slammed his head back against the wall, his hands tightening in Kurt’s hair.

Fuck yes. This was home and Blaine’s cock was delicious.

Blaine made a few more laughable attempts to get Kurt to “stop and talk to him about this,” but Kurt would just flick his tongue along the head of Blaine’s cock, suck him harder, deeper, better and Blaine would forget his name for a few more minutes.

“Please, Kurt. Please, we need to talk about this,” Blaine begged, though it didn’t sound like what he wanted to be begging for, as he was finally successful in pulling Kurt’s mouth off his cock.

He looked up at Blaine through his lashes, tongue coming out to slide along the head, licking up a bead of pre-cum dripping from Blaine’s cock.

“Fuck my mouth.” God he needed it.

“What? Kurt, no. We need to talk about this.” But Blaine’s cock gave him away, jumping a little against Kurt’s lips kissing the tip.

“Fuck my mouth, Blaine. Please. I need this.” They must have really been the magic words because Blaine gripped his hair harder and jerked his hips forward, pushing his cock into Kurt’s waiting mouth.

As Blaine rocked into his mouth, Kurt couldn’t help the wanton moans as he sucked as much as he could, his mouth watering too much until saliva was running down his chin, Blaine’s cock hitting the back of his throat with each thrust.

He relaxed his throat, taking him down on Blaine’s next thrust and swallowing around him

“L-look at me,” Blaine panted and Kurt slid his eyes up as he sucked even harder, tongue working against every vein as Blaine thrust into his mouth, into his throat. Blaine’s eyes were wide and dark and nearly watering with lust, his mouth dropped open in a constant broken moan. “Oh Kurt,” and god if his cock wasn’t already rock hard, “Beautiful. So beautiful.”

It only took a few more thrusts before Blaine’s movements turned erratic and his cock twitched in Kurt’s mouth, spurting thick jets of cum onto his tongue and straight down his throat.

Blaine had barely finished coming, his cock still dribbling out the last of his load, before Kurt was hauled to his feet by Blaine’s surprisingly strong hands and shoved back against the wall.

Blaine’s mouth on his was hungry and sloppy and delicious, his tongue insistent against Kurt’s and he could feel Blaine’s moan as he tasted himself on Kurt’s tongue.

He was painfully hard and painfully turned on and he didn’t even notice Blaine undoing his pants until he felt cold air against his erection, replaced quickly by Blaine’s hand, and Blaine’s tongue on his neck, panting into his ear.

“I wanna suck you so bad right now,” Blaine growled, and Kurt’s hips jerked up into his movements.

“So do it,” Kurt whined. “I’m not stopping you.” Blaine’s stubble scratched along the underside of his jaw as Blaine kept sucking there.

“Mmm, but you haven’t gotten your test results back yet.”

Test results. Oh god, the test results. He’d been trying, trying so hard to forget about them, about what it would mean. He wanted to cry.

Blaine was here, half-naked and wrapped around him and growling filth into his ear about wanting to suck his cock, but he couldn’t because Jude had cheated on him. Jude had fucked everything up, and suddenly he was the one who wished he’d punched Jude, he wanted to destroy him for everything he’d done, everything he’d done to him and ruined. It wasn’t fair.

“C-condom?” Kurt suggested, Blaine’s mouth working over his collarbone. Blaine shook his head against Kurt’s skin.

“I want to taste you.”

And even that, that was enough, Blaine’s hand twisting over the head of his cock, his mouth against his neck, whispering about how he wanted Kurt, wanted Kurt the way Kurt had so badly wanted him to and he was gone, coming over Blaine’s hand.

After separate showers, they wound up in Blaine’s bed, Blaine resting on his chest as they watched Charade on the small TV in Blaine’s room. Kurt twirled his fingers through Blaine’s short curls.

“We really do need to talk about this,” Blaine said, turning to prop his chin on Kurt’s chest.

“I’d really rather not.” Kurt huffed. What did they need to talk about? Kurt was getting what he needed and Blaine was getting sex. If he weren’t getting it from Kurt, he knew Blaine would be getting it somewhere else, so…why couldn’t they just keep doing this? Why did Blaine have to understand? Why did he have to be so…Blaine?

Diversion had worked in the past, so he shifted himself, wrapping his legs around Blaine’s waist and pulled him up into a kiss.

“I really think we need to talk about this,” Blaine said, pulling back.

“I really think you should fuck me.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said warningly.

“Blaine,” he whined, kneading his heel into Blaine’s ass, drawing him closer. He could already feel Blaine getting hard against his thigh.

“No.” Blaine drew back, and kept going until they were sitting on opposite ends of the bed, movie long forgotten. “What is going on in there?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He really did not want to explain this.

“It’s obviously not nothing, otherwise you wouldn’t be shoving my hand down your pants and shoving me into walls and sucking me off and kissing me. I think I deserve some sort of explanation.”

“Do you ask for an explanation from every guy that wants to fuck you, or do you just let it happen?” It was a low blow and he hoped it would sidetrack him.

“Kurt, you. You will never be like one of those guys. I don’t know them, but I know you, and I love you and as much as I hate what Jude did to you, I’m worried about what you’re doing to yourself.”

“What?”

“Are you just doing these things with me to get over Jude?”

“No. Well, not really.”

“Then what is it?”

Kurt sighed; he may as well tell him, then at least Blaine might actually fuck him and give him what he needed and not interrupt every five seconds to say that they needed to talk about it. Honesty, right?

“I-I want to forget. I don’t want him in my head, I don’t want…I don’t want his touch to be the last that I’ve had. I didn’t want him to be the last person to touch me, the last person I touched, I needed. I need to replace it.”

“So what does this mean to you?”

Kurt shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t do this if all you’re looking for is a fuck to replace the memories of the guy who fucked you over. I can’t be that guy.”

Kurt’s mouth drew tight, his nostrils flaring.

“Fine,” he bit out, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up. Blaine scrambled off the bed after him, following him out of the bedroom.

“Fine? Fine what? What does fine mean? Kurt, Kurt talk to me.”

“If you won’t have sex with me, I’m going to find someone who will.”

“Kurt. This—this isn’t. You need to spend time healing and dealing with this, not…not getting off with the nearest willing male.”

“Fuck you. You think you know what I need? What I need is someone who will fuck me when I ask them to, instead of insisting that I be moping and miserable. This is me moving on.”

“Kurt, you won’t find what you’re looking for out there.”

“And why is that, Blaine? Am I not attractive enough?”

“Kurt, that’s not—,”

“Just because you don’t want me doesn’t mean no one else will.” And perhaps that was what really hurt. Blaine, who was so sweet and so kind and gave all of himself to everyone else couldn’t even do this for Kurt.

He knew Blaine didn’t love him that way, but he didn’t need him to, he just needed Blaine to love him enough to do this for him, to help him forget. It wasn’t like he was asking for something that would hurt him, it was sex, and if he weren’t taking care of Kurt, he knew that Blaine would be out at clubs fucking other guys.

It wasn’t fair, and even though Kurt wasn’t still in love with Blaine, it didn’t make it any easier to hear that Blaine still couldn’t see him in that way, but then why? Why would Blaine have allowed things to go as far as they already had if he was going to say no?

“Why? Why won’t you just fuck me?”

“Because…”

“Because? Because, Blaine? Are you kidding me? I need more of an answer than just because. I deserve more than that.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Actually, you can and I’ve already had your dick in my mouth. You came down my throat.”

Blaine flushed scarlet at that, his face dropping down to the carpet.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it, Blaine? Help me understand why it is that you can go out and fuck every other guy you meet at a club, but you can’t have sex with your best friend.”

“I don’t want to ruin this.”

He’d heard this line before, an echo of a heartbroken Valentine’s Day, Blaine’s words then were a balm for his burn, further fixed with the coffee they shared where he and Blaine agreed that he was really terrible at romance, but now. Now they did not soothe the sting.

Blaine took a step towards him.

“You are something to be treasured,” Blaine said, reaching his hand out to brush the backs of his fingers along Kurt’s cheek and Kurt couldn’t help leaning into the touch. ”I can’t just have sex with you, you deserve more than that.”

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s waist and was amazed at how their bodies fit together. Their height difference, which usually wasn’t very noticeable, was incredibly pronounced as Kurt pulled their bodies flush together. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt’s shoulders, leaning in for a hug, but then Kurt tilted his head and their mouths aligned.

Kurt snaked his tongue out, running it along Blaine’s bottom lip, before dragging it between his teeth to suck it and suddenly Kurt wanted nothing more than to shove Blaine back up against the wall and screw him into it.

Blaine pulled back from the kiss, sliding his hands down to Kurt’s shoulders.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispered as a warning.

“Please,” Kurt begged, holding Blaine tighter.

“I’m sorry.”

Kurt let go, shoving past Blaine, stomping back into the bedroom. He went to slam the door behind him, but Blaine caught it against his arm and shoved it back.

He had to get out of there.

Kurt grabbed the nearest pair of his jeans he could spot and yanked the pajama pants off, stepping into the jeans as quickly as he could manage.

“Kurt, where are you going?” Blaine asked. Kurt shrugged, locating his wallet and shoving that into his pocket along with his phone and keys.

“Anywhere but here.” He didn’t care if it was clich�. He didn’t even care that he was still wearing one of Blaine’s ridiculously soft sleep t-shirts, all he cared about was getting as far away from stupid Blaine and his stupid apartment as quickly possible.

He wound up at a piano bar in Chelsea; he’d gone there once or twice before with Blaine. He remembered them sitting at one of the high tables in the corner and making a running commentary on all the singers. Kurt had quickly learned that there were a lot of people who thought they were talented and were, in fact, not.

Blaine had accused him of being a Simon, impossible to please and too snarky for his own good. Kurt had shot back that that made Blaine the Paula who couldn’t bear to say anything bad about anyone and lost all credibility as a judge because of it.

Pushing all thoughts of Blaine from his mind, he sat back, clutching his vodka soda and passed silent judgment on each of the performers.

He was mostly finished with his second drink, feeling pleasantly buzzed when an attractive gentleman with brilliant blue eyes and light blond hair that looked so soft Kurt had to fight to not reach out and touch it sidled up to him and took the empty barstool beside him.

“You’re a harsh critic,” the man said, flashing a toothy grin at Kurt.

“Oh god, I hope I wasn’t being that obvious about it.” Kurt responded, something akin to embarrassment trickling down his spine.

“Not at all, I’m just pretty good at reading people. That being said, you really are too harsh a critic. That last girl was pretty talented.

Kurt almost scoffed.

“Please, you could find a better singer than her in deaf children’s choir.” Even coming out of his mouth, he knew it was harsh, but the sound of the man’s laughter in his ears told Kurt that he’d played this right.

“You seem awfully sure of your own taste when you haven’t even gotten up to sing,” the guy retorted.

“Some of us don’t feel the need to shove our talents in other peoples’ faces at all times.” Which was kind of a lie, but he’d had a pretty shitty night and wasn’t totally feeling up to it.

“Alright, well, how about this. You get up there and sing a song, if I think you sound good, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Let’s just say I’m planning to lose this bet,” he said, winking at Kurt.

Oh. He was flirting. Kurt gave him a cursory once over and reached out his hand, shaking the other man’s.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Kurt slid down from his bar stool, brushing his hand along the man’s thigh and sauntered up to the front where the piano player was set up, grateful that the jeans he’d pulled on sculpted perfectly to his ass.

Kurt made sure to lean over a bit farther than was strictly necessary, showing off his assets even more as he relayed his song choice to the pianist. The song wasn’t for this guy, it was for him, for everything he was feeling and everything he needed and wanted.

The song came from a breakup album from Kurt’s adolescence. Both heart wrenching and soul shattering, the album almost always brought the young man to tears and he distantly remembered listening to Adele croon “Someone Like You” on repeat for several torturous weeks as his heart ached over the boy who didn’t love him the way Kurt wanted him to.

Now Kurt just loved Blaine, he was no longer in love with Blaine, and as the first few bars of “Set Fire to the Rain” were played on the piano, it was the memory of a different man that set fire to his voice, his heart, and he let the heat of their flames spill through the microphone and out into the ever-spinning world.

But there’s a side to you that I never knew, never knew
All the things you’d say, they were never true, never true
And the games you play, you would always win, always win

He hated that everything had been a lie. That even as Jude was planning forever, he was with someone else.

He didn’t want to care about him anymore, didn’t want this fire in his heart. He wanted to just be happy about the handsome man flirting with him, but life being what it was, would never let him off that easy, so he let the fire roll over him, burning with each note that poured from his lips.

As he finished the song, he chanced a glance at the man waiting for him at the bar who was clapping politely with the rest of the crowd and nodded with a small smile to Kurt as he stepped down from the stage.

“So? Am I worth a drink?” Kurt asked as he slid back onto his stool.

"More than one, I'd say," the man replied, turning to the bartender. "I'll have a whiskey sour and a..."

"Vodka soda." Kurt supplied.

"And a vodka soda for..."

"Kurt." He answered, holding his hand out for the man.

"Tyler," he said, shaking Kurt's hand.

"So really, what did you think?"

"I think you should be on Broadway."

Kurt let out a humorless laugh.

"Yeah, I'd like that myself. Not as easy as it might seem."

"I'd believe that, but not everyone is as talented as you." Tyler said, tipping his head to the bartender as he returned with the drinks.

"That's kind of you to say, but you don't know my competition." And Kurt was back to stirring the little straw in his drink. Not only did he have a sucky love life, he had a completely stunted career. He'd left for New York with big dreams of seeing his name in lights, packed theaters, perhaps a Tony or two, but the reality of New York set in shortly after his arrival when he'd been ranked in the lower end of his classes at NYU his first semester.

"Hey, where'd you go?" Tyler asked, bringing Kurt back to reality.

"Nowhere good."

"Hmm. I couldn't help noticing. The song, it's a breakup song. Was there a reason you chose it or do you put that much emotion behind every song you sing?"

"I'd like to say every song I sing, but I did just get out of a long relationship. I suppose I should be upfront about this, but I'm not really looking for anything serious."

"That suits me just fine. My career is a bit hectic right now, so I'm not looking for much myself."

"So why'd you come over here then?"

"You seemed upset." Tyler shrugged. "I wanted to cheer you up. Have I succeeded?"

"I don't know. Aren't you the one that's good at reading people?" Kurt asked with a hint of a smile quirking the corner of his mouth.

"Touch�."

Tyler was nice, he was attractive and in good health as far as Kurt could tell. He was charming and interesting and everything he usually liked in a guy, and Kurt couldn't deny the fluttering in his stomach as he realized that this guy was not only attractive, but also very intelligent, and very interested in him. Kurt tingled each time Tyler trailed a finger along his arm or placed his hand on Kurt's thigh perhaps a little too high to be entirely appropriate for public as he ordered them another round of drinks.

As the pair made to leave, Tyler herded Kurt into the dark alley a few doors down from the bar and Kurt had a brief moment of panic where he thought he'd accidentally walked off with a serial killer and quickly tried to recall if he'd noticed Tyler putting anything in his drink, but Tyler just leaned in, one hand braced against the alley wall, the other tilting Kurt's chin up, and he was kissing him.

It was so different from Jude or Blaine, passionate, but stilted as the two pairs of lips came together in a dance that neither of them had ever shared with the other. Kurt fumbled for a moment as he tried to figure out what to do with his hands before settling them around Tyler's waist, pulling him in closer. He slipped his tongue into Tyler's mouth, tasting the whiskey and then Tyler was pressing him harder against the wall and Kurt moaned into the kiss.

He felt alive, but there was something there, growing, in the pit of his stomach. A little voice that said that this wasn’t what he wanted, not really. Kurt did his best to squash the voice, and threw himself into the kiss.

And just like that, the wet heat of Tyler’s mouth was gone, leaving Kurt panting and leaning back against the wall.

“I have to go, but call me, anytime.” Tyler said, voice low as he slipped a business card into Kurt’s hand. He leaned in and pressed another long, sweet kiss to Kurt’s mouth before pulling away. “Anytime.”

He and Blaine barely spoke for the next several days and Kurt concentrated much of his energy, when he wasn’t at work, looking for a new apartment and a new job. It was time he really opened up his eyes when he realized that his meager earnings at the caf� were not suitable to cover rent, expenses, and loan repayments while living in an apartment in New York City and not on the streets.

He was tiring of the endless interviews and questions and tours with potential roommates in apartments that were too small, too overpriced, and with people he didn’t care to live with. He wished that he could just stay with Blaine and Santana, but ever since their fight he hadn’t even felt comfortable enough to sleep in the same room as Blaine and he spent as much time away from the apartment as he could. He didn’t even get to rejoice with Blaine when he got a letter with his results, telling him that he was clean.

He knew Santana could tell that something was wrong by the weird looks she gave Blaine whenever he was at the apartment. She’d sat down next to him two days ago while he was watching Project Runway and eating greasy, leftover Chinese food (pores be damned) and spent the better part of fifteen minutes looking as though she wanted to say something, but wound up getting up and going back to her room without a single word.

It was uncomfortable and Kurt wished he knew how to fix it.

After a week of relative silence from Blaine, he called Rachel and packed a bag, just needing to get away until he got himself figured out.

“Please don’t tell anyone I’m here,” Kurt had begged over the phone when Rachel agreed to let him stay at her apartment while she was still in Europe on her honeymoon. He’d received several text messages and worried phone calls from Blaine in the first few days he was gone and one intensely angry text from Santana asking where the fuck he was and telling him that if he wasn’t already dead and buried in a ditch somewhere, she would make it happen.

He fired off a text saying he was safe and ignored the rest, choosing instead to focus on figuring out everything else in his life.

Moving on from Jude became easier as each day passed, as he remembered all of the shit Jude had put him through. All the times he’d gotten treatment and fallen of the wagon and gotten so fucked up he’d ended up in the hospital. How many times he’d had to get himself tested because of Jude’s actions while under the influence.

The more the thought about it, the more upsetting it was, and the more he wished Blaine had said something to him, even though he knew he wouldn’t have listened, too blinded by whatever it was he’d felt for Jude.

He had thought he’d loved him, and maybe he did, but sometimes love doesn’t last, can only be pushed so far before it turns into something else, something ugly.

He still couldn’t figure out the whole thing with Blaine though. He knew, even if he called it would be awkward and nothing like their relationship had ever been, even during those few months before they started college when they weren’t speaking at all. He ached to find a way to fix it, but he didn’t want to apologize, there was nothing for him to apologize for.

He hadn’t entirely intended to call Tyler, but he was lonely in Rachel’s big apartment, having gotten no closer to finding his own place. But he had landed a job as a bartender at a popular bar near Times Square and he needed to celebrate.

Tyler arrived at Rachel’s apartment, dressed well in an Armani suit, bearing a bottle of champagne and an easy smile.

They had promptly downed half the bottle before they stumbled to the guest bedroom Kurt was using as they pulled each other’s clothes off between kisses.

Tyler’s mouth on his was almost sinful, but as he swirled his tongue around Kurt’s belly button, hands sliding over Kurt’s thighs, he couldn’t stop the swooping in the pit of his stomach, telling him that this was wrong.

He pushed the feeling down, trying to lose himself in the feel of Tyler’s palms reaching into his underwear, hand curling around his cock, but then Tyler wasn’t Tyler at all, it was Blaine pressing him into the bed. Blaine’s soft, warm hands pulling his briefs down his thighs. Blaine’s pretty mouth opening to take him in, Blaine’s tongue teasing the head of his cock.

Blaine, always Blaine.

“Oh yes, Blaine,” Kurt moaned, spreading his legs. Tyler pulled back sharply and Kurt groaned at the loss of contact, eyes fluttering open and the image was shattered, because it wasn’t Blaine between his legs, but Tyler.

“Is Blaine the ex?”

“N-no.”

“Really? Because that would be understandable, with the recent breakup and everything but--who’s Blaine?”

Such a simple question, or at least it should have been, but Kurt’s voice caught in his throat because Blaine was a friend. He’d always only ever been a friend except that he’d never been only ever a friend. He was Kurt’s best friend and confidante, the person he could always count on, who would hold him when he was upset, and tell him to keep chasing after his dreams.

He was everything.

He was the love of his life.

Oh. Oh god.

He didn’t want to have sex with Blaine to forget Jude’s hands on his body. He wanted to have sex with Blaine, he wanted Blaine’s hands on his body, and only ever Blaine’s.

Kurt’s eyes widened and he blinked back at Tyler, his mouth falling open.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

“What?” Tyler asked as Kurt pulled away, jumping off the bed and tugging his clothes on.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean, but...you need to leave.” Kurt fished his cell phone from his pocket, checking the time. “Fuck, I need to leave.”

In the twenty-three minutes it took him to get from Rachel’s to Blaine’s, he came to the realization that he had always been in love with Blaine, even when he had loved Jude, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered and as he barged into Blaine’s room, he was intensely grateful that he hadn’t interrupted anything personal.

Kurt hurled himself on the bed, climbing on top of Blaine and throwing the book he’d been reading to the other side of the room before sealing their mouths together. He pushed his tongue into Blaine’s mouth, licking into him, sucking Blaine’s tongue back into his own mouth.

Blaine’s hands slid up the backs of his thighs, grazing his ass, before settling low on his back. Kurt rocked down into him, grinding into his thigh and then Blaine was pushing him away.

“What the fuck, Kurt? I told you I can’t--,”

“I’m in love with you,” Kurt blurted, cutting Blaine off. He knew it was risky and insane and there was a very good chance that he was wrong, but...

“What?”

“I’m sorry I took off for so long and didn’t talk to you, but I needed to get some things sorted out and...I’m in love with you.”

“What about Jude?”

“What about him? I’m in love with you.”

“Kurt.” And Blaine was using that voice again, so soft and sad, and he knew he was wrong. “I’m in love with you too.”

Or maybe not. Kurt’s eyes met Blaine’s.

“You’re…how long?”

“Years, before Jude, but I didn’t know. I didn’t know and then it was too late and then you’d moved on and Jude was there and you were so happy that I didn’t want to spoil it.”

“I hadn’t.” Kurt admitted.

“What?”

“I hadn’t moved on. When I first started dating Jude, I was still so in love with you.”

“Was…”

“Well, I did fall for him, eventually, but,” and if Kurt were being completely honest with himself, completely honest with both of them, “I don’t think I ever fell out of love with you.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, wrecked again, but in a completely different way than Kurt had ever seen him. “This is such terrible timing.”

Kurt leaned in and kissed him, sweet and chaste and unlike any kiss they’d ever shared, both in love, both knowing.

“Awful,” Kurt said as he pulled away a little, dotting kisses against Blaine’s lips.

“Horrible.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

And though Jude was far from forgotten, Kurt couldn’t help feeling as though Blaine would help put the shattered pieces back together, making him whole again, but more whole than whole, because Blaine loved him too, Blaine was in love with him.

They’d spent the night cuddling and kissing, just touching and exploring each other until the wee hours of the morning and when Kurt got back the next day from picking up his things from Rachel’s apartment, he’d wrapped his arms low around Blaine’s waist, fingers digging into Blaine’s ass and asked Blaine to make love to him between long, deep kisses.

Blaine sat back on his knees to stare, to drink Kurt in, naked in his bed, for the very first time. A shiver ran through him at the thought, the first time.

This was going to be their first time having sex, making love, and although Blaine had been with many men, none of them were special. None of them were Kurt, and he couldn’t help feeling as though it really was his first time.

Kurt squirmed under Blaine’s gaze, bringing him back to reality and Blaine smoothed his hands over the sides of Kurt’s stomach, over his chest, and down his arms. Blaine ghosted his fingers over the goose bumps there and Kurt squirmed even more, bucking his hips up just enough that the head of Kurt’s cock slid, slick and hard against Blaine’s.

“You are gorgeous.” Blaine couldn’t help staring at the faint blush, tingeing the highest part of Kurt’s cheek.

“You don’t have to—“

“But you are. So beautiful. God, Kurt, you’re so beautiful it hurts to breathe sometimes.”

“Well that can’t be very healthy,” Kurt joked and his eyes crinkled at the sides when he smiled up at Blaine. Blaine dropped a kiss to Kurt’s cheek, moving up his face, kissing over the wrinkled skin, looking forward to the day when that skin would be permanently marked in old age from smiling, smiles that Blaine put on his face. Granted, with Kurt being Kurt, a man with more skincare products than most Sephora stores, that wouldn’t be for a long while, and Blaine couldn’t help feeling as though he would be worth the wait.

Kurt always was worth the wait.

Kurt sucked Blaine’s earlobe into his mouth, his hands gliding down Blaine’s back, fingernails gently scraping along Blaine’s spine and Blaine arches down, his cock coming to rest against Kurt’s soft, flat stomach. The hands ventured lower, sliding over Blaine’s ass and Kurt’s fingers dug in, pulling Blaine against him.

“Kurt,” Blaine breathed and it sounded almost wounded. Blaine turned his head, fitting their mouths together in a smooth, wet glide. Blaine nipped at Kurt’s bottom lip, earning a gasp and then a moan as Blaine dipped his tongue into Kurt’s mouth at the same time he shifted his hips to align their cocks and ground down.

Kurt’s hands fisted into Blaine’s hair as he sucked Blaine’s tongue into his mouth, teasing it with his own and god, if this wasn’t heaven. It amazed Blaine, how easily Kurt could disarm him, a press of lips against his ear, a whispered word, the gentlest of touches, even a simple gaze and Blaine was gone and wrecked and so utterly Kurt’s.

“The things you do to me, Kurt,” Blaine groaned and pulled back from the kiss a little dizzy and somehow even more turned on than before.

Kurt’s eyelashes fluttered open, dark against his pale skin. Blaine wanted to build a shrine to those eyelashes.

“What?” Kurt asked, voice a little hoarse and more than a little breathy, and fuck Blaine did that. “What do I do to you?”

“God, everything,” Blaine confessed, dropping his face to Kurt’s neck, licking a line of sloppy kisses along the hot skin. “You’re so beautiful, as a person, and just as you and fuck, just seeing you like this…” Blaine trailed off, not knowing how to explain.

He slipped his fingers around Kurt’s wrist, bringing his hand down and over his erection. Kurt’s fingers automatically circled around his cock, giving an experimental tug and Blaine nearly dropped to the bed, fighting the urge to fuck into Kurt’s hands.

“Shit, Kurt,” Blaine moaned and Kurt sucked in a breath, his grip tightening and then he was jerking Blaine, hot and tight, a tighter grip than Blaine usually preferred, but the little twist Kurt threw in at the end of each stroke left Blaine panting against Kurt’s neck, not able to do more than press dirty, open-mouthed kisses against the spit-slick skin. “I love you,” he murmured. “So much, so much Kurt.”

“I know, Blaine, I love you too,” Kurt moaned and then he moaned and it sent shocks of pleasure straight to his cock and Blaine couldn’t help jerking forward, pumping his hips into Kurt’s fist.

Kurt’s other hand slid into his hair, tugging Blaine’s face back to him until Kurt’s tongue was flicking into his with each stroke, fucking into his mouth, just as Blaine fucked into his hand and Blaine was gong to lose it like this. He was so close already and he couldn’t help feeling like the horny eighteen-year-old that had pressed a very clothed Kurt into a bed, only this time he knew that he loved Kurt, really loved him. There would be no guilt, no fight, no misunderstandings this time.

Kurt’s grip on him was sinful, a little too dry, but the drag was so worth it and it would only take a few more strokes before he was going to come, but this wasn’t how he wanted it. He wanted—

“I’m too close, wanna come inside you,” Blaine said and Kurt’s grip around him slackened to a loose circle, and Blaine couldn’t help pumping into the fist, the pressure just enough to keep him almost too close to the edge, but not enough to get him off. “I didn’t know it would be like this. It’s so…”

“Overwhelming?” Kurt supplied and Blaine nodded, dipping down to capture Kurt’s lips between his. “Yeah,” Kurt breathed as Blaine pulled back. He kept going until he was sitting back on his calves, Kurt’s legs draped on either side of him.

Blaine lifted Kurt’s legs, pushing them back until he could see everything and then all he could do was stare. Kurt’s cock rested hard and red against his stomach, his balls, covered in a smattering of fine hair, just a touch coarser than that on his stomach, all leading down to the most perfect ass Blaine had ever seen. Kurt’s thighs tensed against his hands and Blaine looked up.

Kurt’s eyes had gone dark, pupils dilated almost to black and he was panting, his lips glossy and kiss-swollen.

“Do something,” he whined and Blaine leaned down, licking a wide stripe up the underside of Kurt’s cock. The smooth skin gave way to Blaine’s tongue and he licked up the drops of pre-cum spilling from the tip of Kurt’s cock. He groaned at the taste and wrapped his tongue around the head, sucking it into his mouth.

Kurt bucked his hips up, or tried to at least, trying to get more of his cock in Blaine’s mouth, but he just pulled away, breathing across the slick head and relishing in the shiver that coursed through Kurt’s body.

“Tease,” Kurt ground out. Blaine flicked his gaze up to Kurt’s face, waggling his eyebrows and then he dove down farther, his tongue flicking out to ride along the puckered muscle of Kurt’s entrance. Kurt writhed in his grip.

“Fuck! Blaine.” And that was all Blaine needed. He teased his tongue along the rim, alternating between long, broad strokes of his tongue from asshole to Kurt’s balls and small, tiny flicks of his tongue right against the hole. Kurt whined and pressed down, trying to get the pressure Blaine was so cruelly denying him “Please. Please, Blaine. Please. I need it. I need your tongue in me.”

Blaine’s hips slammed into the mattress, Kurt’s words affecting him far more than any words should have been able to and then he was running his thumbs around Kurt’s hole, Kurt’s legs falling open and wide against the bed. The tips of his thumbs dipped in and he pulled them apart, staring at the pulsing hole for a moment before spearing his tongue and thrusting it in.

Kurt wailed as Blaine’s tongue entered him and it was all Blaine could do to not come right then. Kurt’s voice was low and breathless and he planted his legs down on the bed, his hands falling to press against Blaine’s head, shoving him in deeper, hips undulating as he fucked himself on Blaine’s tongue.

“Blaine! Fuck me. Make love to me. I don’t care. I—unhh, I-I need you in me, please. Please, Blaine,” Kurt begged and Blaine pulled back immediately, hand going for his bedside drawer. He almost pulled the drawer all the way out of the table in his haste to get the lube and a condom and then he was there, fingers slicked and pressing, pressing, pressing at Kurt’s entrance. Two fingers slipping in. Kurt’s hands scrabbled into the sheets, already pushing down against Blaine’s fingers. “I don’t need. Just. In me. I want to feel you.”

“Okay,” Blaine breathed, pulling his fingers out and he tore open the condom wrapper, rolling it over himself. He took a moment to spread some lube over his cock and then he was there, guiding his cock into Kurt’s hole, Kurt’s heels digging into his ass, pulling him ever closer.

“Yes,” Kurt hissed, his head thrown back against the pillows.

Once he was buried completely, he gave a few shallow thrusts, letting Kurt get used to him. He was there. With Kurt, in Kurt, and fuck, was he tight and hot and beautiful, so, so beautiful.

“More, please,” Kurt begged and Blaine obliged, drawing back almost all the way out before sliding back in. Kurt’s legs dropped down, hooking over the backs of Blaine’s thighs, his toes curling into Blaine’s calves.

Blaine dropped down, kissing Kurt hard and open-mouthed as he twined their fingers together, stretching their arms above Kurt’s head and he rocked into him. Their breaths mingled in the space between their lips, intermittently closed as they pressed another kiss into each other.

He wanted this. Always and forever. Just them, the two of them rocking together and kissing. Skin pressed to skin, so close he could feel Kurt’s heart beating against his chest and he was filled with such a swell of emotion that he had to bite back tears.

Instead he opening his eyes, a little shocked as he saw Kurt’s blue-blown-black eyes gazing back at him and his breath caught in his throat. The angle changed and Kurt shivered, arching up into Blaine. He brushed along the spot again, earning him a soft moan and soon he was thrusting along the spot with each stroke, his movements getting more and more erratic.

“Uhh, Blaine, harder,” Kurt moaned, biting his lip. Blaine scraped his hands along Kurt’s forearms as he brought them to rest at Kurt’s hips and he rose to his knees, fucking down into Kurt with each thrust. Kurt’s fingers dug into his back and Blaine surged into him. Fucking down, down, down faster and harder. Their breathing speeding up until Blaine was lost in the torrent of breathy moans of harder, faster, yes, yes, yes from Kurt as he drilled him into the mattress below.

He was so close, so close and, and—

Kurt’s nails scratched against his scalp as he wrenched Blaine down into a filthy, sloppy kiss that was more tongue than lips and Kurt was bucking, bucking down against him and coming with a throaty whine. Kurt’s ass clenched around him, ripping Blaine’s orgasm from him until he dropped to the bed, shaky and panting.

“You’re very heavy.” Kurt observed a minute later, sounding a little squashed and Blaine lifted his head, dotting a kiss to the end of Kurt’s nose.

“I love you too,” Blaine replied and Kurt rolled his eyes, laughing.

“Sap,” Kurt teased, easing Blaine out of him and then gathering Blaine in his arms.

“S’why you love me.” Blaine couldn’t help the dopey grin as he reached up to kiss just under Kurt’s jaw.

“I do,” Kurt admitted and Blaine continued to ravish Kurt’s neck, appreciating the way Kurt’s breath would hitch each time he would suck a little hard, or his teeth would scrape against Kurt’s skin. “Mmm, stop that, you’re going to make me hard again.”

“I fail to see the problem with that.” Blaine grinned as Kurt swatted at him.

“I just came, Blaine. What more do you want from me?”

“Everything, always.”

This time Kurt didn’t tease him, just smiled and kissed Blaine’s forehead, tucking Blaine’s head under his chin. Blaine snuggled in closer, relishing in the warmth of Kurt’s body.

He knew that he should get up, he knew that he should at least get rid of the condom that was cooling around his spent cock, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything beyond the man that was holding him in his arms.

He could deal with the consequences later, but whenever Kurt was involved, it would always be worth it.

Despite Blaine’s years of clubbing and relationships that never lasted longer than a few weeks, Kurt had only seen Blaine drunk a handful of times. The few times Kurt had been around his inebriated friend, Blaine had gotten handsy, and, depending on how far gone he was, Blaine would try to get Kurt up against a wall.

He’d always written it off as Blaine being a horny drunk, not knowing that he was a horny for Kurt drunk.

Tonight though, Blaine wasn’t drunk, not on alcohol at least and even though he felt a buzzing in his veins it wasn’t because of alcohol. Kurt couldn’t help watching Blaine as he danced around with their friends, leading Santana in a mix of a salsa/waltz while Mike attempted to teach Finn how to dance, yet again. Some things would never change.

He was glad they were all here, his wonderful friends and fellow McKinley survivors, along with a few faces he’d met along the way and Kurt was more than happy to just stand back for a few minutes and observe.

He and Blaine had decided to do this together, neither of them wanting the traditional route these things usually took, and although Santana had nearly ripped Kurt’s head off when they’d discussed it and complained that Blaine wouldn’t be any fun anymore, she had grudgingly agreed to go with their plan.

Kurt meandered into the kitchen to refill the punch bowl and was just putting the finishing touches on it when strong arms wrapped around his waist, Blaine’s head coming to rest over his shoulder and Kurt leaned back into the embrace.

“Hi,” Blaine whispered, his lips grazing the side of Kurt’s neck. “You smell really good.”

“Thank you.” Kurt tipped his head to the side, offering his mouth to Blaine and Blaine eagerly took it, tongue sliding between Kurt’s lips. He could do this forever.

“Oh! Ugh!” Santana yelped as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, catching sight of Kurt and Blaine. “You guys are disgustingly cute, but could you stop getting your mack on for like ten seconds and bring out the punch? You guys have forever to do that.”

“Sure.” Kurt relented, laughing a little as Blaine whined when he stepped out of his embrace. Kurt grabbed the punch bowl and tossed Blaine a wink as he left the kitchen. “Our room in ten?”

“Five.” Blaine countered.

“Deal.”

The punch loosened up the party considerably and no one seemed to notice as Kurt and Blaine slipped away from the party and into the bedroom and Blaine barely had the door closed before Kurt pounced, grabbing Blaine and pulling him into a searing kiss.

Blaine pushed him back into the wall, their dresser rattling from the force, and Kurt almost stopped to make sure nothing had tipped over, but then Blaine’s mouth was on his, and any rational thought was gone.

Kurt couldn’t help groaning as Blaine fitted his thigh between Kurt’s legs, rubbing up against his rapidly hardening cock.

“I have to go soon,” Blaine whispered as his mouth moved to suck on Kurt’s neck.

“No, please stay, you can stay. We’ve been so good about making up our own rules so far, please just stay and you can fuck me and then maybe I’ll fuck you and--” Kurt was cut off by Blaine’s mouth sealing over his.

“It’s bad luck.” Blaine pointed out, though that didn’t stop him from trailing more kisses along Kurt’s jaw, and fuck, he never wanted this to end. Blaine drew back for a moment, peering down at his watch. “Five minutes to midnight.”

Kurt arched his back away from the wall, hands pulling Blaine flush against him.

“Blaine,” Kurt moaned, dipping his fingers under Blaine’s waistband in the way that he knew drove Blaine crazy. He didn’t care. He didn’t care if it was five minutes to midnight, five minutes until their friends came looking for them, to separate them. He knew it was what needed to happen, what was supposed to happen, but that didn’t make him want those minutes to move by anymore quickly. He just wanted to stay in this moment, bodies pressed together.

Kurt went airborne for one terrifying moment, before he was tossed onto the bed, Blaine following him moments later and then it was all heat and Blaine and Blaine’s tongue in his mouth, Blaine’s hands in his hair, rubbing him, touching him. A coil of heat surged through his stomach at the memory of a night many years ago, with the same man pressing him into a bed, only this time they were both in love with each other. This time they both knew they were in love with each other.

Their kisses turned from sloppy and heated to slow and sweet until they were mostly just brushing their lips together.

“I love you,” Blaine whispered against Kurt’s lips. A wave of warmth washed over him with the words and he smiled into the next press of their mouths.

“I love you too.” It didn’t matter that they weren’t going to have sex tonight. It didn’t matter that they would soon be interrupted by a drunken parade of the idiots they called friends. It didn’t matter that in a few hours time Kurt would be struggling to fall asleep alone, for the first time in years, in his and Blaine’s bed. What did matter was that when woke up the next day, it would be as Kurt Hummel, but when he went to bed that night, it would be as Kurt Hummel-Anderson.

But what mattered more than a name change, more than perfectly tailored Prada tuxedos, more than Blaine serenading Kurt before practically fucking him on the dance floor, was that they loved each other.

For now, as Blaine’s hands slid into Kurt’s, Blaine’s body weighing heavy on his, keeping him pressed into the bed, Kurt couldn’t help being amazed at how well they fit together in every way. Like we were made for each other, Kurt thought before laughing against Blaine’s lips at how cheesy it sounded, even in his head.

Blaine slid his mouth from Kurt’s lips over his ear, singing softly.

“I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece. I’m complete.”

Kurt dragged Blaine’s mouth back to his, cutting off anything else Blaine may have sung. Maybe it was cheesy to think he and Blaine were made for each other, but maybe Kurt didn’t care.