- Oh, Blaine, honey, no! That’s hideous. You shouldn’t use this word, even if it gives you a ‘z’!

It was a Tuesday night, and surprisingly, Kurt and Blaine were playing Scrabble.

- I know you think fezzes are a crime against humanity, but you should be proud of me! It is a word related to fashion, something that you love even more than myself!

Kurt smacked Blaine on the shoulder, barely suppressing his laughter. In revenge, Blaine made a move to tickle Kurt, but he ducked away, and soon they both fell on the floor, jostling and giggling. Blaine attacked Kurt’s sides, while Kurt made a series of embarrassing high-pitched sounds and started grabbing at Blaine’s hands to keep them away. Then, he accidentally rolled onto the scrabble board, scattering the little tiles and mixing the letters. Blaine laughed at Kurt’s pouty face of a person who ruined an evening worth’s of linguistic creativity and gave up, finally stopping the tickle war.

They were breathing heavily, when Blaine suddenly reached his arms to pull Kurt closer, and Kurt automatically snuggled his head into Blaine’s chest. Softly humming to himself, he took some letters and slowly arranged them until they formed a necklace which spelled “SILLY” on Blaine’s collarbone. He touched them one by one saying the word out loud.

- You’re silly, Blaine.

- No, actually, you’re the silliest, Kurt, - Blaine replied, booping Kurt’s nose.

- Kiss me, - ordered Kurt, smiling faintly only with the corners of his mouth.

- Anything for you, - obliged Blaine, leaning down to meet Kurt’s lips.

* * *

Truthfully, Blaine had no idea what was happening.

Kurt seemed to be acting different lately, which was both expected and surprising. Blaine caught dozens of stolen glances on himself, when they were working in the library, drinking coffee, singing in practice, driving in one of their cars, meeting their friends, smearing face cream on each other’s cheeks, getting ready for bed. Kurt’s fleeting looks were tentative yet daring, naively curious yet appraisingly experienced.

When they kissed, Kurt’s lips seemed to savor, taste, memorize, and take even more than possible, but when parting, he often blushed and avoided eye-contact. When they cuddled in bed, Kurt’s hands grabbed, stroked and mapped out, learning by heart all the skin that was accidentally revealed, even undoing a few buttons more on his own shirt, pressing impossibly closer to Blaine. But when their breaths turned harsh and heartbeats grew erratic, Kurt would pull away completely and lay on his stomach, hiding his face and barely touching Blaine’s skin, only the tips of his fingers slowly tracing complicated patters on his boyfriend’s arms.

Of course, Blaine knew what might have prompted a reaction like this, but still he had no idea what this reaction meant.

The events of the exact day when everything changed were recalled vaguely, as if it didn’t happen to Blaine, but to some stranger. Not much seemed logical or even real. For weeks Blaine had been tortured by lust, and suddenly his constant restraint had been freed, and his body took the opportunity and surrendered to every whim of his imagination, which all resulted in a catastrophic outcome. The idea itself was crazy, he couldn’t even imagine a world where purposefully getting yourself caught masturbating over thoughts of your boyfriend by said boyfriend, would lead to the previously mentioned boyfriend’s self-esteem getting higher, without any odd tension surfacing in the relationship.

Blaine was aware of the fact that he didn’t make the brightest decisions while under pressure.

Various memories glued together to form a picture, the frame of which was still blurry. The towel lying soaking on the floor between the shower stalls. The echo of the heavy steps. The pile of clothes on the bench. The empty corridor. Nervousness, fake nonchalance, nibbling sense of guilt because of the ruined date. The heavy door of their room. Kurt’s slumped back over the sink. Kurt’s eyes meeting his, reflected in the mirror of the bathroom. Kurt’s face red and obviously freshly splashed with abundant amounts of water. The collar of his shirt undone, and sleeves rolled. Silence. Blaine’s fake banter, his easy questions. Kurt’s short replies, avoidance. Kurt’s headphones. Blaine’s toothbrush.  Undoable homework. Kurt’s sudden passionate kiss goodnight. Falling asleep.

Blaine thought about a strategically complicated game of chess, where you can choose whether to attack or defend, but no matter what, you must respond. He had made his move, now he was waiting for Kurt’s.

* * *

A few days later, Blaine was sitting in the front row of McKinley’s auditorium, staring at the heavy curtains which hid the stage from view. Shadows were dancing in the little gap between the drapery and the floor, and Blaine wondered who exactly was moving there, preparing to step forward to meet the audience, ready to make the defining move.

To say that he was nervous would be a huge understatement. He knew that Kurt had spent the last days practicing something special, and naturally Blaine worried it might be something to do with their relationship. Actually, Kurt didn’t tell him anything about this performance. The only fact that he revealed was that the New Directions invited him over, because he had a very distinctive feature they might use to make the show unprecedented. Maybe everything will turn out to be innocent after all.

Suddenly, the curtains opened, and Blaine’s eyes immediately glued to Kurt. He was standing alone in the spotlight, his hair stylishly coiffed, his face a mask of madness. The music started with loud beats and Blaine immediately recognized the tune, urging his own foot to stop tapping to the catchy rhythm.

Kurt started dancing, moving his arms and hips to the beat, singing the first lines of Born This Way, his eyes rolling, but never once stopping on Blaine.

And then the girls appeared out of nowhere, and pulled at the sides of that red checked shirt right in front of him. The black letters on Kurt’s white t-shirt were clear, big, unmistakable. They hit Blaine’s brain like a bolt of lightning.

Blaine lost it.

Through the whole performance he couldn’t sit still, clapping to the beat, blood boiling in his veins. Although the lights of the stage were blinding him, his eyes still followed every move of Kurt’s body in the group, registering only the rhythmic flexing of his biceps.

Kurt’s devilish smile and mad eyes finally darted to him, high on adrenaline.

And then Kurt’s sweaty checked shirt landed right in Blaine’s face.

* * *

Blaine tries to hold tight onto the steering wheel, but Kurt’s damp cold hands are all over him.

Kissing backstage, kissing in the corridors, kissing near the car. Blaine loves kissing, but not when it can lead to a potential car crush, killing both him and his boyfriend. Kurt’s currently leaning heavily to the driver’s side, sucking sloppily at Blaine’s neck, whispering a stream of nonsense words.

- Hey, Kurt, no, I’m driving! – Blaine’s protesting too weakly, but he can’t do anything about it.

- I don’t care, - slurs Kurt, biting at Blaine’s ear, and that’s the last straw. Blaine hastily pulls over to the side. This is not his Kurt at all.

They find themselves parked in front of a deserted playground.

At once, Kurt’s hands swiftly reach to unbutton Blaine’s shirt. Which makes Blaine’s brain shortcut for a second, because Kurt is never this straightforward, and the effect he’s producing is clearly visible in Blaine’s pants. Trying to hold on a rope of sanity, Blaine bats Kurt’s hands away from his exposed chest. But instead, Kurt finds a way to quickly pull Blaine’s cardigan off and throw it carelessly onto the backseat.

- Kurt, stop, what are you…

- You think I don’t know? – Kurt explodes, fingers gripping forcefully at Blaine’s sides, rage and lust mixed in his eyes so densely that it’s impossible to tell them apart, - You think I’m so innocent that I have no idea what are you thinking about in that head of yours all day long?

- What…

- Don’t pretend like you didn’t want me to see you jerk off in that shower, f-fucking yourself on your fingers like the world was ending… - Kurt’s trembling hands are back on his chest, pulling the shirt apart, rapidly descending lower.

- Kurt, you’re too excited to talk normally, - Blaine says steadily, doing everything in his power to prevent his voice from breaking.

- But you’re hard, - whines Kurt, cupping the evidence in Blaine’s pants, - And I want you, so much. Let’s just do it and get it over with!

- No, - manages to reply Blaine, suppressing the urge to thrust up because of the amazing brand new feeling of Kurt’s hand right on his dick, - We’re not doing it in my car of all places, not because of what I did or because of your performance, - Blaine shoves Kurt’s hand away from his lap, - What’s happened to you?! Getting it over with? That’s not you talking, Kurt.

With the corner of his eyes, he sees Kurt’s shoulders slump down. He leans back entirely, leaving Blaine disheveled and suddenly cold.

The pain in his chest is too sharp. He can’t look at Kurt right now, his whole body is shaking in the fear that the ginormous frustration will pop the tiny residue of self-control. 

Blaine scrambles out of the car, slamming the door shut forcefully. He walks quickly away and into the playground, wanders in circles, having no idea where he’s heading, and suddenly finds himself near the swings. He has just stormed off, but it feels like at least half an hour has passed.

Lowering himself on the left swing, he sighs heavily. What had he done?

Trying to rearrange the clumsy buzz of thoughts, Blaine stares to where his car is parked, with the lights off. Kurt is sitting there alone in the dark. The image popped up in his brain makes shivers run down Blaine’s spine.

He didn’t want to yell at Kurt, not at all.  He was wrong. Now he sees it all clearly. All his actions looked like he kept pushing Kurt for sex, because he couldn’t control himself, like he was some kind of animal in heat. Thinking he was just educating Kurt was a disguise to hide his obvious interest. Of course Kurt didn’t hold up to the pressure. His innocent, shy Kurt, who despised “those movies”. The realization of the enormity of Blaine’s fault splashes over him. He basically corrupted Kurt. And now Kurt wanted to “get it over with”? For the sake of Blaine?

Looking at the lights turning on in the distant car, and Kurt moving to the back seat, Blaine shudders. Was his interest completely normal, or did he really unconsciously become some kind of pervert? He was beginning to get scared of himself.

Brushing a hand against the chain, his skin screams at the sharp pain of the freezing steel. A puff of breath escapes into the cold air, and Blaine’s teeth chatter.

Only then, he looks down at himself and realizes how much of a mess he is right now. The cardigan is gone and the undone bowtie loosely hangs around his neck, the creases are scarring the unbuttoned shirt, untucked from the rumpled pants. He looks completely ridiculous sitting on a swing in the middle of the playground with only the light of the street lamp illuminating his exposed belly. Blaine quickly crosses his arms. “Why are you running away all the time?”, a quick question flashes in his mind.

Talking.  All they need is talking.

The warmth that greets him when he opens the backseat door is one of the best rewards.

Kurt is there, snuggling with the cardigan, unshed tears shining in his eyes. It’s a sight that Blaine wishes he would never see again, and he silently seats near his boyfriend, reaches to hold his hand.

- Kurt, I’m…

- I’m sick of this… this dance between us, - interrupts Kurt with a deep sigh. He looks irresistible, his white t-shirt hugging his chest closely, cheeks blushing pink, hair ruffled. Blaine notices the straining denim below the belt, and Kurt’s wide spread legs. He turns away, hoping that Kurt won’t see the arousal in his eyes, hoping that he could concentrate for a second in order not to ruin their relationship once again.

- Then talk to me, please. Tell me what you want.

- I’m sorry, - sobs Kurt.

- You don’t have to be sorry, we kind of messed it up together. I know I acted like an idiot for sure. I… did that on purpose, obviously. And I’m a total moron. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for… corrupting you? I was convinced that it will give you self-esteem, but I never wanted it to be a challenge to fulfill, - Blaine spits it all out in one breath, unsure if his speech is coherent enough for Kurt to understand. - I’m sorry for pushing you into something you didn’t want, Kurt. It was never my intention.

- I … forgive you. And I’m sorry too, - Kurt’s words rush like a torrent, ahead of his thoughts, - And you definitely didn’t corrupt me, Blaine. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I just couldn’t get it out of my head, and this past week was so lust-driven I couldn’t even think about anything else. I’m so turned on all the time. I thought it was because of what you did, but no, I just. I guess I’m really ready, - Kurt seems to calm a little bit, and ducking his head, continues, - I’m sorry, it’s… not that important. The important thing is trying to understand you better. And talking. So you can understand me.

Kurt’s breathing shakily, and stealing unsure glances at Blaine. The sight makes him smile earnestly, to which Kurt responds with a smile of his own, clearly relieved.

- I love you, Kurt, - Blaine says earnestly, and hugs him close.

Relief washes over Blaine too, as he feels Kurt’s cheek and his smile against his neck, and he holds Kurt a little bit longer, squeezing reassuringly at his shoulders.

They part, and Blaine bumps his forehead against Kurt’s, shaking his head at how unbelievable the whole situation actually is. They both clearly want each other, but are avoiding making the first move. It sounds cliché, but he has never seen a teenage movie with two scared virgin gay boys, that’s for sure. He laughs breathlessly, and nuzzles close to the soft skin of Kurt’s cheek, not ready to let go of him yet. He has become so dependent on Kurt, he feels how powerful Kurt is right now, possessing Blaine’s mind and his heart…

As he gives him an Eskimo kiss, he hears Kurt let out a tiny gasp, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the entire world.

The backseat of the car is a compact place, where the closeness of their bodies is enhanced. The warmth radiating from Kurt’s chest is so pleasant, in contrast to the earlier coldness of the street, that Blaine can’t help but press even closer, embracing Kurt in his arms, stroking slowly at his back.

Blaine has a sudden urge to look Kurt right in the eyes, to see if the love he feels would reflect back, and Kurt’s gaze is sensual and innocent, hesitant. It’s enchanting, and Blaine is lost in those eyes, when he finally surrenders and leans in and presses his lips to Kurt’s deliciously parted ones.

It’s so familiar and easy – kissing Kurt, that he gets lost in the wetness and hotness of his mouth, in their tongues sliding together in a perpetual dance, in his hands caressing Kurt’s back. He doesn’t notice Kurt’s breath speeding up, nor his wildly pulsating heartbeat …

Pressing a hand to Kurt’s lower back he feels his hips thrust, and involuntarily, on instinct, shifts closer, until they’re flushed against each other in the awkward small space of the car. It feels so good, feeling Kurt’s hardness against him, knowing that Kurt is turned on by him.

It is wrong, but he can’t help it. Blaine wants to kiss a little bit longer, to feel this intimate moment imprinted in his skin. He starts kissing more forcefully, and the harshness of Kurt’s voice as he moans against his mouth between kisses is the ultimate seduction.

- You don’t know what you do to me, - Blaine whispers against him, kissing at his jaw and throat, savoring the smell of Kurt’s sweat.

- Please, Blaine, yes, - Kurt chants over and over again like a mantra.

With the corner of his eyes he sees Kurt slipping a hand between them, no doubt trying to adjust himself. In that exact moment Blaine sucks the skin of Kurt’s neck into his mouth, nipping at it a little with his teeth and lips, getting lost in the taste.

And all of the sudden Blaine feels Kurt’s body shiver in his arms, as he starts to come, Kurt’s face contorted in ecstasy, brows furrowed and mouth wide open, flushed cheeks, sweaty skin, loud moans of pleasure ringing in Blaine’s ears. The sight is so beautiful and hot that Blaine can’t look away, wants to make Kurt come again and again as soon as he’s finished. Kurt’s eyes are fogged with haziness of the bliss, damp as the steamy air inside the car.

Breathing unevenly, as soon as he comes back from cloud nine, Kurt seems to be absolutely confused by what just happened. He looks down, at the big stain on the front of his pants, and gripping Blaine’s arms, leans on him with sudden exhaustion.

- I couldn’t help it any longer, I’m s-sorry, - Kurt says, stuttering, - Oh god. I ruined everything? This was supposed to be something special shared between us, and it just happened like this.

Embracing Kurt with both of his hands, Blaine kisses his forehead, hoping the familiar gesture will reassure him. Kurt is nuzzling into Blaine’s chest, pliant and warm and perfect.

- Kurt, nothing goes according to plan. We both are masters at awkward situations, aren’t we? And who says it wasn’t special? It was amazing, because I feel so close to you right now. I feel happy because you’re not mad at me, you don’t think I’m a freak or a pervert. I’m just a boy, like you.  I want to share everything with you, when the time comes. And it will come naturally.

A tiny teardrop escapes out of the corner of Kurt’s eyes, but Blaine knows it’s from happiness.

- Please, never apologize for this, - Blaine says, cupping his cheek, - for looking so beautiful.

He finally feels Kurt relax in his arms.

And though this feels like heaven, Kurt must be really uncomfortable. Blaine wonders if there’s tissues left in the box on the dashboard.

* * *

The next morning, when Blaine wakes up, the remainders of the vivid dream still linger on his eyelids. He was holding a treasure in his arms, lying on some sunny beach of a faraway island. When he finally rises to consciousness, Blaine still feels wrapped in the summer hotness, as if he’s an overheated cocoon of blankets. Kurt is curled in his embrace, his back tightly pressed against Blaine’s chest. Being the big spoon to his boyfriend is quickly turning into Blaine’s favorite thing to do.

Kurt’s soft thin hair is tickling him, and Blaine suppresses the urge to giggle. Instead, he reaches closer, and starts slowly placing tiny butterfly kisses on the back of Kurt’s neck. It’s not long before Kurt’s even breath turns into happy sighs, and he stirs in Blaine’s arms.

- Hey, - says Blaine against Kurt’s ear and grins, when Kurt yawns in response, - Sleep well?

- Mhhmm, - replies Kurt, reaching his head back to snuggle against Blaine’s cheek, then turns his whole body and buries himself against Blaine, sighing in content. But when Blaine reaches to kiss him, Kurt suddenly backs away.

- No, morning breath, - Kurt crinkles his adorable upturned nose, and Blaine’s heart involuntarily speeds up its beats. This is his Kurt.

And now is the moment.

- Kurt, I wanted to ask you something, - Blaine’s voice is barely a whisper.

- Yeah? – Blaine sees the twinkle in Kurt’s eyes, and it spreads a honey-warm feeling in his chest.

- Will you go to the Dalton prom with me? – and it’s kind of an expected question, really. The council of the Warblers already assigned them a romantic duet to sing weeks ago.

- Yes, yes! - Kurt squeaks in happiness, but quickly drops back down on the bed, - Only if it’s not right now. Cause right now I just wanna lay here with you forever. Until the end of time.

- Sounds perfect, - says Blaine, managing to steal a kiss from Kurt’s soft lips, all the morning breath in the world be damned. By the third kiss Kurt stops protesting, and Blaine feels his heart squeeze with what can simply be described as too much happiness.