Much later they were sitting on the sofa in Kurt's living room, feet propped up on the coffee table, sharing a bowl of grapes. Kurt had explained about the delay in getting to Venice, and Blaine had explained that he had foregone traveling with the band to Bologna to prepare for their next concert, although he had to travel there first thing in the morning.

They had napped for a while after stripping the bedspread to the floor, and then each had showered. Blaine hadn't brought any luggage, instead leaving everything with the roadies in Venice, so Kurt had lent him some clothes. The shirt was a little snug across the chest, and the pants were a bit too long, but everything was wonderfully soft and smelled of verbena—a scent Blaine now associated with Kurt, just as Kurt was beginning to association cedar and cloves with Blaine.

Blaine looked down to where their hands were linked, and he murmured, “You know, I've still never heard you sing.”

“There's eleven performances of Poppea, Blaine. You can still make nine of them. The cheap seats at the top are only 24 euros. Let me know if you need a loan.”

Blaine chuckled. “What will it cost me for a preview?”

“You want a private performance?” Kurt pretended to think about it. “I'm not sure you can afford that on your meager income.”

Blaine stood and walked into the bedroom. He came back holding his pants, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. He looked inside. “I have twelve euros. Do you take American Express?”

“I'll take a kiss.”

Blaine leaned over the couch where Kurt was sitting and put both hands on the back of the sofa on either side of Kurt's face. When he leaned in to kiss Kurt, Kurt put a hand up and pulled back.

“You realize that the song you get depends on how good this kiss is?”

Blaine put his mouth very close to Kurt's. “Oh?” He arched an eyebrow. “What kind of kiss will get me ‘Al lampo dell armi'?”

“Oh, I'm going to at least require some tongue for that.” Kurt said softly, his eyes intent on Blaine's mouth.

“And what kind of kiss will get me, ‘Il dolce suono'?”

Kurt raised his eyebrows in surprise. Blaine was shockingly knowledgeable about opera. One side of Kurts mouth quirked, “That would require kissing some things that I might be sitting on right now.”

Blaine laughed, then swooped in to give Kurt a teasing kiss that left Kurt gasping for more.

Blaine stood, “Let's hear what Ive won.”

Kurt rose and stepped in front of the window so the light was creating a halo around his hair. He raised one hand and placed it on his heart. With the other hand he reached, arm completely extended, palm raised in a beseeching gesture. He cleared his throat, and Blaine sunk into a chair, expectant look on his face.

Kurt opened his mouth wide, and just before emitting a note, a devilish look crossed his face.  He began to twitch his hips fetchingly. “All the single ladies, all the single ladies, All the single ladies, all the single ladies, All the single ladies…” he sang.  

Blaine started to laugh.

By the time Kurt had finished the final verse of the Beyonce hit—complete with absolutely absurd choreography—Blaine was doubled over.

“Here's a man that makes me, then takes me; and delivers me to destiny, to infinity and beyond; pull me into your arms, say I'm the one you want; if you don't, you'll be alone, and like a ghost, I'll be gone.”

Blaine was holding his sides when Kurt sang, “Now put your hands up, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,”  turning slowly and pushing his hands into the air with each “oh” and shifting his hips for emphasis.

“Stop, stop, you're killing me,” begged Blaine. He was holding his sides, doubled over in the chair. “Kurt Kurt Hummel, you have unsuspected depth,” he managed to wheeze.

Kurt gave Blaine a broad grin. He crossed the room and dropped to his knees in front of Blaine. Blaine looked at him curiously, still smiling. Kurt opened his mouth and sang, “Il dolce suono mi colpi di sua voce!”

As Kurt continued through the aria, Blaine's eyes grew wider and his mouth dropped open a little. Kurt had clearly sung this aria before, although it was not meant for his voice. Blaine was familiar enough with Lucia to hear where Kurt was changing the notes to match his vocal range, but the change was beautiful and not jarring. The lower notes made it sound like a love song instead of a mad woman's lament to the corpse of the husband she had just murdered.

Although he couldn't catch all of the words, he understood and interpreted, “At last, I am yours, at last you are mine, to me you have been given by God. Every pleasure is more grateful to me, with you, more sweet.”

When Kurt finished, tears were streaming down Blaine's face. “Never stop singing to me,” he whispered. “Never stop.”

Kurt slid into Blaine's lap and wrapped his arms around Blaine and just sat there for a moment, his forehead pressed against the top of Blaine's head. Blaine reached around and simply held Kurt to him, each man reveling in the other's warmth.

Finally Kurt broke the moment. “I'm starving.”

Blaine smiled up at Kurt, “Well, I think you've sung for your supper.  Let's go. It's my treat.”

They walked hand in hand through the night past the Basilica di San Zeno Maggiore to the Ristorante Antico Tripoli, a favorite eatery of Kurt's. Sitting in the moonlit garden, dining on roasted whole fish and asparagus, they shared wine and traded stories from their childhood.  They talked about their experiences in high school in Ohio. Kurt went to public school, but, Blaine, who was from New York, had attended an elite private boarding school in Westerville, not far from where Kurt grew up in Lima. They also swapped stories about college highjinx, Kurt at NYADA and Blaine at the University of Michigan.

Wine came out of Kurts nose when Blaine admitted to being in a college band that did hard rock covers of Disney tunes.  

"You did not!" Kurt screamed, holding a napkin to his burning nose.  "Please tell me there are youtube videos."

"Nope, no videos," Blaine swore.  "And all the other band members?  Yep.  All dead.  There is no existing evidence of this band."

"Blaine, I will make it my lifes task to seek out videos.  I know theyre out there."  

As it neared midnight, and the waiters were clearing the last of their dishes, Kurt screwed up his courage and asked Blaine, “Will you stay with me tonight?”

Blaine looked at his watch. Then he faced Kurt, “I have to leave by six, but I would love to spend every minute with you from now until I go.”

Kurt smiled. Then something occurred to him, and his face clouded over.

“What is it?”

Kurt didn't respond for a long time, so Blaine just waited him out, looking at Kurt and smiling encouragingly.

“I just realized something.” There was another long pause, as Kurt continued to gather his thoughts, “Um, I'm embarrassed to say.”

The blush on his cheeks punctuated his comment.

Blaine leaned forward. “Say anything, Kurt. It's OK.”

Kurt focused his attention on the single rose bud peeking from a vase on the table. In a small voice he admitted, “I think we're a little…limited…on what we can do.”

Blaine eyed him quizzically and waited for him to go on.

“I know that you don't top, or bottom. But I think oral sex is off the table for me.”

Blaine tried to hide his surprise, but he wasn't completely successful. “You mean, you and Adam never…?” His voice trailed off.

“No,” Kurt corrected, “No, of course we did. But earlier today you said that I should think about my boundaries. When you're with someone for a long time, you don't think in terms of boundaries, although I guess you build them mutually over time. I mean, there were things that Adam and I never did, never even considered doing, but you figure them out together. There's no…formal negotiation.”

Kurt was talking slowly and considering his words carefully. “But,” he continued, “If I think about it, I don't think that it's anal sex that's too intimate. I mean, it feels great, but you can still do it and be thinking about new fabric swatches for your curtains.”

Blaine choked a little. “Go on,” he croaked.

“For me, it's oral sex that's too intimate. Your face is right there. Another person is seeing things close up that you normally hide from people. And they can smell and taste the essence of you. And there's trust, too. I mean, we all have teeth.”  Kurts face was in flames, but he wanted to talk honestly to Blaine.  

Blaine sat back and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, wow. Put like that, maybe I've gotten it wrong all these years.”

“No. I don't think it's like that. It's personal, where you draw your limits. But today—earlier—when you were touching me, it just seemed too much. It was like you knew me too well, and you don't really know me at all.” He flapped his hands. “I'm babbling. Ignore me. What I'm saying is that if anal sex is off the table and oral sex is off the table, that doesn't leave much, you know? So…maybe…I don't know…maybe you want to just head to Bologna?”

Blaine reached out and pressed his palm against Kurt's cheek. “Kurt,” he said softly, “It's enough. With you, whatever you give me, it's enough.”

Their lovemaking that evening was slow and exploratory in sharp contrast to the desperate fumbling of the afternoon. They took turns touching each other, kissing one another tenderly, as though they had all the time in the world. As they built to a crescendo, both sweating and moaning, Kurt reveled in the magic of Blaine's touch. He didn't want to compare Blaine to Adam, but it was unavoidable. While Adam's touch was comfortable and predictable, Blaine's touch was like fire, sending icy shivers of delight and blankets of warmth across his skin. Kurt realized that he was lucky to have experienced it all.

They came nearly together, one right after the other, and they held each other for a long time afterward, glued together with sweat and ejaculate.

When they couldn't stand it any longer, Kurt disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a warm, wet cloth and a dry towel. He cleaned off Blaine, then handed him the towel as he rubbed the worst of it off himself.

“It's not enough,” Blaine whispered into the dark.

Kurt froze, sure that Blaine was referring to their conversation at Antico Tripoli.  He had changed his mind.  

“Having you for just a day, here and there; it's not enough,” Blaine elaborated.  

“Oh,” Kurt breathed, relieved. “I don't think it can be helped. You have your concert schedule. I have mine. Then there's rehearsals…”

“Yeah, I know.” Blaine sat up in the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He reached to the bedside table and grabbed his phone. He peered intently at some application for a while, occassionally poking at the screen.  Then he asked Kurt, “What do you have going on in August?”

Kurt fixed his eyes on the ceiling as he thought about it. “Well, I'll be back in the States sweeping two months' worth of dust out my house, convincing my cat to stop hating me, and looking for work so I can continue to eat and live indoors.”

“But you don't have any concerts?”

“Sadly, no. Not until September when I bring down the house in Kansas City.”

Blaine reached for Kurt. “Stay with me.”

"Im already here."

"No, stay with me in August.  At least for part of it."

“You want me to go with you on your concert tour?”

“No, not on the road.” He looked back at his phone. “I have the first two weeks of August free. Have you ever heard of Sirmione?”

“You're asking a gay countertenor if he's heard of the home of Maria Callas?”

“Oops. Sorry."

"I went for an afternoon five years ago.  I would love to go again."

"Look, I know someone who has a house there. Will you spend two weeks in Sirmione with me, just the two of us? We can have a real vacation and get to know each other better. Everything else…we can figure out later. Just say that you'll go with me.”

Kurt hesitated, “I'm not sure…”

“Don't say ‘no.  Think about it."  He looked around the room,"Where's your phone?”  

Kurt stood and went into the kitchen. He returned with his phone and handed it to Blaine. Blaine slid it to the on position and tapped on it for what seemed to Kurt like a really long time.

“Are you playing Angry Birds?”

Blaine looked up, puzzled. “What?”

“What are you doing with my phone?”

“Oh,” Blaine answered. “Here.” He held the phone out for Kurt to see.

“What is all of that?”

“It's my email, my cell phone number, the number of my house in Malibu, the number of my apartment in New York, the number of my agent, and the number of my parents in Syracuse. I never want to take a chance of missing you ever again.”

Kurt looked into Blaine's smiling face. “When do you have to leave?”

“In about an hour.”

“Then we better get right to it,” Kurt declared, launching himself full length onto Blaines body.