Blaine led Kris out of the park at a rapid pace, mindful of the fact that he was dressed only in a thin, button-down shirt in the winter cold.  They walked briskly for two blocks, neither man talking, until they reached an attractive green brownstone.  Blaine took a key out of his pocket and opened the door, ushering Kris inside. 

"What..." Kris began, but Blaine cut him off. 

"Ill explain everything, I promise.  But lets get you warm and clean first, okay?" 

He pulled Kris past a large room that was covered mostly in paper, drop cloths, and scaffolding, continuing up a set of stairs and past a kitchen that was functional, but a horror of 1970s design.  He kept going, leading Kris up another set of stairs to the third floor and into his bedroom.  He knew it would take Kris by surprise, but he would explain it all.  He would.  But first things first. 

"Ill be back in a second," Blaine told Kris, who was looking around the bedroom with startled, wide eyes.  Blaine left the room and crossed the hall into a bathroom. 

When Blaine had begun remodeling the brownstone, hed started on the third floor.  Hence, the bedroom and bathroom were finished, and they were everything hed envisioned.  The bathroom was quite large by New Yorker standards, and Blaine had sacrificed a second, small bedroom to make it so.  The floor had original black and white hexagonal tiles, and the walls were covered from the floor to midway with aged white subway tiles that had been reclaimed from a demolition site.  Above the tiles, the walls were painted a soft periwinkle blue. 

On one wall was a glass enclosed walk-in shower, but Blaine ignored that in favor of a large, claw foot bathtub.  Centered on one side of the tub was an antique tap shaped like a swan.  It wasnt very masculine, but Blaine had found it in a salvage shop and immediately knew it was perfect for his space. Besides, he liked it.

Blaine turned on the tap, making sure the hot water was running generously.  He then added mineral salts that were from his "special occasion" collection--outrageously expensive, but oh so worth it.  Retrieving a lighter from a vanity drawer, he lit some candles on the sill of a stained glass window near the tub.

The window was another reason he couldnt pass up the swan fixture--it was original to the house and had a swan motif, with one central, majestic, opalescent swan surrounded by smaller swans in shades of ivory and depicted as swimming in blues that complemented the walls.  He took a moment to appreciate the way the candlelight played with the colors and shapes of the window and the way the light was reflected around the room. 

One of Blaines splurges had been a whole-house sound system, and he moved to the wall where the system was discretely integrated into a framed cabinet.  He found the playlist he wanted and adjusted the controls until soft, relaxing music was filtering in through the speakers hidden throughout the room. 

He pulled two fluffy bath towels from a wall cupboard and draped them over a towel-warming rack.  Then he finished filling the tub, making sure the temperature was just right.  As he did so, he thought about Kris, and how he had so selflessly rescued the baby ducks with no regard to his own comfort or even his personal safety.  He also remembered his frustrating phone call for assistance and not being able to use his real name when he needed to because he was afraid of being caught in a lie.

Taking a deep breath, he switched off the tap and squared his shoulders.  Once Kris was clean, warm, and comfortable, it would be time to face the music.

He returned to his bedroom to find Kris running his fingers over the fine linens on the large, rather self-indulgent bed.  At the sound of the Blaines steps, he turned with so many questions in his eyes that Blaine felt like confessing everything right then.  He swallowed back tears of frustration, longing for the truth to be told; however, getting Kris clean and warm remained a priority, and Blaine always kept his priorities straight. 

But the questions in Kris eyes wouldnt let him stay completely silent.

"This is my place," he explained with a rueful expression on his face.  "The other place was my brothers.  I was house-sitting." 

Kris seemed to sag with relief.  Somewhat surprisingly, the first words he uttered were, "So the thing in the bathroom...?"

Blaine grinned a little, "He likes to leave me gag gifts.  I always leave them right where they are.  So gross."

Kris chuckled.  He looked around the beautifully appointed bedroom with smooth, straight lines, exposed walls, and subtly masculine touches.  "This is really beautiful," he affirmed. Blaine noted that Kris voice had gone softer and up an octave or two, something hed noticed before and found intriguing, almost entrancing.  Unaware of Blaines internal musing, Kris continued, "Your brothers place was...well..."

"Oh my gosh, its a nightmare," Blaine confirmed, and Kris nodded. 

"I didnt want to be rude..."

"No, no.  He had this designer, Jean-Pierre." He said the name with the most affected French accent possible.  "The guy knew a sucker when he saw one; he was out to pad his pockets with all the commissions from stuff he convinced my brother to buy." He paused for a moment and then continued, "My brother has a lot of money, but not a lot of sense, if you know what I mean."

Kris chuckled again, and then looked a little wistful. "I had a brother like that." 

Blaine was going to ask Kris about the past tense, but then he remembered why they were there in the first place.  He took Kris hand and gently but firmly said, "We need to get you clean and warm; then we can talk." 

He pulled Kris across the hallway and into the bathroom.  He explained as Kris gaped, "Shampoo and conditioner are next to the tub, as well as...um...," Blaine laughed a little ruefully, "a lot of different kinds of soap.  I like variety," he said with a self-deprecating shrug. He pointed at the warming rack and added, "There are towels, and I can bring you a robe or some sweats, although Im a bit shorter than you. If youll drop your clothes outside of the door, I can wash them while youre bathing." He looked around, trying to think of anything hed forgotten. "Just let me know if you need anything; I wont be far."

Blaine turned to go, but suddenly a hand shot out and wrapped strongly around his wrist, stopping him.  Blaine turned back inquisitively. 

"Its a big tub," Kris said quietly, and that alluring and unusual voice was back again.  "Stay." 

"Kris," Blaine breathed in a vague protest, but Kris was already unwinding the scarf from Blaines neck and unbuttoning his coat, and it was only then that Blaine realized he was still wearing them.  The items fell to the floor, and Kris pulled Blaines cardigan over his head, not bothering with the buttons. It joined the other items on the floor. 

As his fingers worked the buttons on Blaines blue-checked button-down, Kris began kissing his neck.  Blaine couldnt help but stretch his neck and drop his head back to give Kris more access, and he sighed with the satisfaction of having this mans lips so tenderly but insistently touching his skin.  Kris lips on his neck were cool and soft, and they sent tingling, electric fingers up and down his spine. 

Kris stripped the shirt back, and it caught on Blaines wrists, snagged by the still-buttoned cuffs.  Kris ignored them, effectively trapping Blaines arms and hands at his sides.  Locking his eyes with Blaines, Kris hands moved to Blaines belt, first pulling it tighter and then loose to unlatch the buckle.  Blaine felt Kris fingers undo his button and unzip his fly, and then his trousers fell to the floor, pooling around his still shod feet, and leaving him only in his t-shirt and...

...Blaine felt the color flush from his belly all the way up to his chest, neck, and face.  Hed completely forgotten that he had worn his favorite "no one will see these, and they make me feel good man-panties."  They were what could only be called cherry red (almost as red as he felt his face might be by now) and very silky to the touch.  Kris took one look and, except for what could definitely be called a smirk of his lovely mouth, pointedly ignored them in favor of...

..."God, your body," Kris groaned.  Grabbing the hem of Blaines t-shirt, he slowly raised it up to his armpits, his fingers brushing lightly over his skin.  Blaine felt incapable of moving as Kris lips traveled down his neck to his chest.  Then, without warning, Kris bent low and began to mouth at Blaines soft belly, licking and nibbling and sucking. 

Blaines mind whirled; his body was responding faster than he could think.  He was completely trapped, and absurdly so.  His wrists were pinned to his sides by his shirt sleeves, his t-shirt was rucked up to his armpits, and his pants were tangled around his ankles.  He couldnt move his arms or take a step.  

He undoubtedly looked a little ridiculous, and he supposed he should be embarrassed, but he was beyond embarrassment--he was on fire.  As much as he wanted to touch Kris, he also, surprisingly, loved feeling so helpless.  Relinquishing control to this man was an incredible mind rush, not to mention what it was doing to his body. 

"Stay there," Kris whispered--as if he could do anything else, a small part of Blaines mind wanted to retort.  Instead, he remained quiet and motionless as Kris stepped back and began stripping off his own clothes, being much more methodical with his own disrobing.  Gracefully balancing first on one long leg and then the other, he stripped off his boots and then his socks.  Blaine was surprised at how beautiful Kris feet seemed to him, and he wanted desperately to kiss up and down the fine bones, lick the arches, and nibble the ankles.

What the...? Blaine briefly closed his eyes, trying to focus his thoughts. Hed never had a foot fetish before.  Maybe he was becoming a different guy. 

He reopened his eyes just in time to see Kris slowly unbuttoning his own shirt while keeping his eyes on Blaine.  He unbuttoned his cuffs before dropping the shirt to the floor, revealing toned, muscular arms and broad shoulders under the softest looking t-shirt Blaine had ever seen. 

Blaine gulped and kept staring. 

Stepping a little closer, Kris pulled his own t-shirt up and then off, and this time Blaine gasped audibly.  Kris was like a sculpture, all marble skin and hard planes, not too bulky, but well-defined and obviously nurtured.  This was not a body that was simply impervious to a little benign neglect because of its youthfulness, but it wasnt a buffed-out gym body, either--something Blaine never cared for.  This was no simple act of nature; nor was it something that had been obsessively and artificially created.  This was a body that was created with deliberate will, attention to nutrition, and conscientious exercise.

And it was a body that was meant to touch and to be touched.

Eyes and mind focused on the man before him, Blaine tried to move forward, but he was instantly reminded that he wasnt exactly mobile.  Frustrated, he nevertheless stopped rather than risk the possibility of falling.  His eyes, however, continued to travel over Kris body, and his breathing was becoming ragged and gasping.

Spurred on by Blaines interest, Kris smiled languidly.  He pulled open his belt, his hands moving slowly and deliberately.  He unzipped the fly of his jeans, and slipped them down slowly, revealing long, strong legs.  Blaine had a sudden flash of Kris using those legs as powerful pistons, repeatedly shoving his cock into him, and his knees nearly buckled. 

Clad only in old-school boxers that emphasized his long legs and chiseled chest, Kris took one long stride to where Blaine remained standing.  Still looking steadily into Blaines eyes, he reached down with both hands, grasped him by the ass, ran his hands over the silky material of his briefs, and pulled him in close.

Then, putting his sleekly muscled arms to use, he lifted Blaine so that his feet were no longer on the ground and, turning unexpectedly, deposited him on the vanity. Blaines hands were even more trapped now because he was half-sitting on his shirt. 

Kris lifted Blaines feet, unlaced his boots and pulled them off; the socks were swiftly removed as well.  Then, as if hed been reading Blaines mind, Kris mouth did what Blaines had longed to do.  Kneeling before Blaine, Kris lifted first one foot and then the other.  He kissed down the length of the bones on top of each foot, paused at his big toe, and then sucked it into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. 

Blaine nearly fell off the vanity from the sensation.  How could that feel so incredible? 

Straightening, Kris continued stripping Blaine, pulling his trousers completely off and dropping them on the growing pile of garments.  This left Blaine in the twisted confines of two shirts...and his bright red briefs.  By now he also had an obvious wet spot as his penis strained and leaked against the fabric of his briefs, and he tried not to think about how absurd he probably looked in his half-clothed, mostly trapped, and now fully aroused state. 

Kris must have thought differently, however, because he groaned and dropped to his knees, his mouth unerringly finding Blaines cock through his underwear.  Kris didnt lick or suck; he just wrapped his lips around the top of Blaines penis through the cloth and breathed a hot breath that sent a spike down Blaines length, through his scrotum, and along his perineum.  He gasped and arched his back, and, without thinking, he wrapped his legs around Kris torso.

The contact brought Blaine sitting bolt upright.  Kris was cold.  He was cold, and he was dirty, and he needed to be tended to--and Blaine was sitting on the vanity like a horny douchebag, getting his rocks off while Kris suffered.  What was wrong with him? 

Using his knees, he pushed Kris away and slid to a standing position, wrestling with his shirt sleeves until he was finally free. 

"Youre freezing," Blaine said. "And, as much as Id love to continue, we can do this later."  He pointed to the tub with a finger.  "Into the tub, mister."

Kris mouth quirked up at the corner, and he rolled his eyes.  "You are so not good at being bossy."

Blaines eyebrows raised in surprise.  He was exceptional at leadership; everyone said so.  It wasnt his fault that this guy made him feel like a quaking school boy.  "Tub," he said again, but instead of sounding authoritative, he was embarrassed to find that his voice had a slight quaver to it. 

Kris chuckled and put his hands up.  "Okay," he said.  Then, without warning, he scooped Blaine up and deposited him in the tub, t-shirt, red briefs, and all.  Blaine let out an involuntary yelp. 

Kris reached a hand down to Blaine.  "Undershirt," he ordered, and Blaine peeled the now soaking and clinging t-shirt off of his chest, handing it to Kris, who threw the sodden mess into the sink. 

"Underwear," Kris commanded, and Blaine stripped those off as well.  As Kris tossed them into the sink, Blaine thought he heard him murmur, "Very festive." 

Then Kris efficiently stripped off his own underwear and hopped into the tub before Blaine could even get a good look.  He felt a little cheated. 

As Kris sank into the tub, opposite Blaine, he let out a long sigh. "How do you have a bathtub?  No one in New York has a bathtub.  Are you a Kennedy or something?"

Blaine laughed and shook his head.  "No, not even close.  Turn around and lean against me.  Ill wash your hair." 

Kris shook his head. "You really suck at being bossy."  Then, ignoring Blaines request, he sank down into the tub until his head was completely under water.  When he came back up, looking sleek as a seal, he said to Blaine, "You come here." 

Blaine moved forward and maneuvered himself around until he was resting up against Kris chest. He sighed contentedly as Kris arms wrapped around him, and Kris tilted his head down to kiss Blaines temple. 

"Thrand," Kris murmured in his ear, "You have no idea how good you feel in my arms." 

"Blaine," Blaine corrected.  "My name is Blaine."