Kurt took Thrands hand and led him out of the coffee shop with a lot more bravado than he felt.  When he had returned the cup to the bus tub, he had nearly gone back to the table, confessed everything to Thrand, and asked him to go out with him on a proper date.  He liked this guy.  He was funny and smart, although when he started to get passionate in his conversation, he seemed to pull himself back. Kurt didnt know what that was about, but he wanted to find out.  However, coming clean was what Kurt would do, and that had never worked out well, had it? So he called forth his inner Kristoff and relegated Kurt to the deeper recesses of his persona.

Kurt had never in his life had a one-night stand, but hed had any number of regrettable sexual encounters after a third, fourth, or fifth date; so maybe, just maybe, it was time to try something different.  He felt as if being this other guy, this Kristoff, just for one night, might help him get solidly back on his feet. It was kind of like driving really fast on the freeway to burn the gunk out of a carburetor--it didnt always work (and most cars nowadays had fuel injectors instead of carburetors anyway), but still--it was worth a try, right?

But Kurt could hardly take Thrand back to his own place. He was in Manhattan, where hed impulsively stopped at a local grocery on his way to purchase fabric for his latest design, and they werent anywhere near his loft in Bushwick. Besides, he shared the loft with two divas, and he obviously couldnt take Thrand there.

See, when Thrand had asked him what he did for a living, hed panicked.  He couldnt tell him he was a costume designer.  That didnt fit the stereotype of the kind of occupation a bold, manly sort of guy would have.  Then Kurts eyes had fallen on a discarded Wall Street Journal on a nearby table, and hed blurted out that he worked in finance. 

Kurt had almost no idea what a Wall Street investment banker did, but he was sure they all had much nicer apartments than Kurts, and he was quite confident they all lived in Manhattan, not anywhere near the Bushwick area in Brooklyn. So, in keeping with his new manly, take-charge persona, hed announced that they should go to Thrands place.

But now that they were on the street, Kurt noticed that Thrand seemed a little indecisive, almost as if he didnt know where to go.

"Your place?" Kurt prompted him, raising an eyebrow. 

Thrand shook his head a little and nodded.  "Uh, yeah, right." 

He led Kurt down a couple of blocks to a side street and to a surprisingly garish apartment building with a ridiculous awning that read "The French Hen."  Out front was a uniformed doorman.  It was weirdly posh for a teachers home.  And it was actually kind of tacky. 

"Good evening, Mr.-"

"Good evening, Charles," Thrand spoke over the doormans next words, interrupting him. 

It seemed a little rude, and Kurt was a bit surprised, but maybe Thrand was nervous.  Kurt knew he was.  Still, the doorman opened the door with a deferential nod. Kurt swept in behind Thrand, who walked quickly across the lobby and pressed the elevator key a few more times than was strictly necessary. 

Kurt put a hand over Thrands shaking one, where his finger was repeatedly pressing the up button on the elevator.  "Relax," Kurt softly breathed in his ear, "Weve got all night." 

Thrand nodded stiffly, but just then the elevator dinged, and they stepped inside.  Thrand hit the button for the fifth floor, and he seemed to sag in relief when the elevator doors slid shut. 

The elevator finally stopped with a lurch, and Thrand led the way to the apartment, unlocking and opening the door with shaking hands. Kurt stepped inside.

The apartment was nothing like he would have expected.

Clearly Thrand had hired a decorator, which seemed like a huge expense on a teachers salary.  Everything in the room was designed to impress.  It screamed, "I am a wealthy, heterosexual bachelor.  You are a woman.  Please allow me to seduce you."  Maybe Kurt had gotten the wrong idea entirely. 

Nothing in the room looked comfortable except one overstuffed chair so large that two people could snuggle up in it. 

Weird, weird, weird. 

Kurt followed Thrands lead and took off his scarf and coat, hanging them on a teak coat rack.  He noticed, as he did so, that his own hands were shaking, and he realized he needed a moment if he was going to get back in Kristoff mode. 

"Id like to use your bathroom," he said to Thrand.

"Second door on your right," Thrand replied, pointing down a hallway. 

Kurt went into the bathroom, washed his hands, and splashed some water on his face.  Then his eyes were drawn to a box on the counter, and his eyebrows rose almost to the top of his forehead.  The box had a bow on top and a handwritten tag that read, "For my little brother.  Enjoy!"  The manufacturer had scrawled across the box in large red writing, "The Insurgent--Take Your Ass Play to a Whole New Level." 

Kurt was somewhat appalled, yet fascinated.  Opening the box, he pulled out a long, clear dildo with wires traveling the length.  It was at least nine inches long.  It had ribs and ridges, and when he flipped the switch, it pulsed in his hand, growing longer.  Then the top part moved from side to side.  Startled, Kurt dropped it, and it fell with a clatter into the sink.  Kurt fumbled with it as it moved around the basin until he was finally able to switch it off, his heart racing.

Kurt had been ready.  He was going to have a one-night stand.  He was going to get this.  He was going to top.  He was.

But there was no way he could live up to The Insurgent. His penis was never going to be able to do that. 

Kurt sat with a thud on the closed lid of the toilet seat and buried his face in his hands.  That was that, then.  He would go back into the living room, tell Thrand it was nice meeting him, but that hed remembered he had somewhere he had to be.  He would walk out of the apartment forever and never see Thrand again. 

He didnt know why that made him so sad. 

Still, what else could he do?  It turned out he couldnt be that guy.  He didnt know who he was kidding.  He was Kurt Hummel, costume designer, aspiring Broadway star, and perpetual bottom.  He needed to own it. 

He stood up and walked out of the bathroom.

When he entered the living room, Thrand was standing near the kitchen, holding out a glass of wine.  Kurt didnt take it.  Instead he said, "Um, Thrand..."

But as he moved closer to the dark haired man, Thrand sucked in a breath and suddenly pulled the proffered wine glass back untouched.  He set it on the counter, and looking at Kurt with mysteriously colored yet strangely soft eyes, whispered, "Youre so beautiful.  Please..."

"What do you want?" Kurt whispered back. 

"Just..." Thrand slipped down to his knees at Kurts feet and put his hands up to Kurts belt.  He looked up at Kurt. "May I?"

A better man than Kurt would have refused; he had planned to leave, after all, but that mouth...and those eyes.  All Kurt could do was nod dumbly, and Thrand fumbled open his belt and pants and pulled Kurts now half-erect penis out of his briefs. Thrand stroked it with his fingertips a few times before pulling the head between his lips, sweetly swirling the taut skin with his tongue.  After a moment, Thrand lowered his mouth over the full length. When he slowly pulled off, it took a long time because, for each millimeter that Thrand withdrew, Kurts cock grew proportionately.

When Thrand finally pulled all the way off of Kurts penis, both men groaned; then Thrand pushed his mouth forward again and began sucking in earnest, his head bobbing up and down. The flat of his tongue swirled around and around while Kurt clutched the back of Thrands head and held on for dear life, willing his knees not to buckle under him since he had nothing to lean against. 

As Thrand worked Kurts balls with one hand, he held the base of his penis with the other, and continued to lick and suck. Kurt couldnt help but buck a little into the other mans mouth, feeling the pulsing throughout his genitals and an electrical sizzle beginning to coil deep in his belly. Thrands tongue was soft like warm butter as he used it to explore under the ridge of Kurts head. His fingers were just slightly calloused at the tips and, as Thrand continued to roll and play with Kurts balls, the roughness sent little spikes of pleasure into the back of his brain.

Kurt made the mistake of looking down and seeing Thrands long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his full lips, which were a much darker red now and glistening with saliva, slipped up and down Kurts shaft. 

The whole thing took an embarrassingly short time.

Kurt wasnt a statue.  No man could see that vision and not instantly come undone.  As he came, Thrand pulled him into his mouth as far as possible, pursed his lips more firmly around Kurts penis and sucked with all his might. Kurt could feel Thrands throat working, as he swallowed everything he had to give. It felt as if Kurts orgasm had been drawn from down in his toes, and then he finally couldnt stand it any longer. He sank to his knees before Thrand on the carpet and pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly and whispering into his hair, "So good. It was so good. You were so good." 

And it was true.  Not just the blow job, but holding Thrand afterward felt like a revelation.  He was so compact and firm, and he fit perfectly into Kurts arms.  In this position, Kurt could feel how very small Thrand was, and it made Kurt feel big and strong. He realized it was exactly how he had always wanted to feel with a man, and he pulled Thrand to him even more tightly, nearly crushing the breath out of both of them. 

Thrand, in turn, pressed his cheek to Kurts shoulder and released a deep and contented sigh. 

After a time, Kurt realized that he was still exposed and that he hadnt done anything yet for Thrand; so he reluctantly loosened his embrace to slide his hands down Thrands back to rest on his hips. "You havent...let me..."

Thrand shook his head vigorously against Kurts shoulder.  "No...um...its okay...I already..."

Oh. 

Kurt felt immensely flattered.  Still, he couldnt shake the need to take care of this small, yet astonishing, bundle of man.  He kissed his temple and said softly, "That cant be comfortable, then.  Why dont you go put on some pajama pants?"

Thrand nodded, his head still against Kurts shoulder, and Kurt was startled by how good it felt to feel these little head movements against his neck. 

Thrand asked in a small voice, "Will you stay...just for a while?"

Kurt smiled and kissed Thrands temple again; then he gave him a playful swat on the behind. "You go get changed.  Ill be right here when you get back, Honey."

Kurt felt a smile against his neck.  "Okay," came back the small, sweet voice. 

Kurt stood reluctantly and reached down with both hands to help Thrand to his feet. As Thrand disappeared down the hallway and into a room that Kurt assumed was a bedroom, he moved to the big chair and sank into it.  Kurt turned and turned the accidental endearment over in his mind.  He had called Thrand, "Honey." He had never called anyone that before.  It had just come out of his mouth, and it felt right.  This was a one-time thing, and "Honey" was so inappropriate under the circumstances; yet it just tumbled out of his mouth like it was the perfect thing to say.  Kurt realized finally that Thrand hadnt objected; he had smiled.  Kurt took a deep breath and decided to let it go. 

Thrand returned after a few minutes, wearing soft pajama pants that were rolled at the cuffs and so baggy they looked like a little boy wearing his fathers clothes.  Kurt wondered about that, but he shrugged it off. Thrand was on the small side, after all; maybe it was hard to find pajamas that fit just right.

Thrand held another pair of pajama pants out to Kurt. "I thought you might want to be more comfortable...just for a little bit...I think theyll fit."  He bit his lip when he finished talking. 

Kurt was touched by the gesture; so he bent down to remove his boots, pulled off his slacks, and slipped on the pajama pants, which, he was surprised to see, were a designer brand and made of the softest cotton flannel.  They fit quite well, but were a little long, even on him. Letting that observation float to the back of his mind, he sank back into the oversized chair and, gazing meaningfully at Thrand, patted the space beside him. 

Thrands eyes lit up, and he slipped in beside Kurt, wiggling until he was fitted perfectly in Kurts arms, both of them facing the view of the city at night. It really was a remarkable view and, ignoring the niggling question about how Thrand could afford this on a teachers salary, Kurt rubbed little patterns on Thrands arms. He also couldnt resist placing a few more light kisses to the soft curls on Thrands head. 

Thrand seemed to melt into him more with each little affectionate gesture, and Kurt felt his own heart strings being plucked with every little contented sigh that escaped Thrands lips. 

They sat for a long time, not speaking at all.