“You know what, Kurt? It doesn’t matter what you meant, it matters what you did. And I...I can’t. I’m done.”

Blaine slammed his laptop closed and rested his heavy head upon it, his tears falling onto the aluminum surface, glistening atop the dimming logo. This could not be real, it just could not be. Blaine and Kurt were forever. Kurt loved him—of that Blaine had always been certain.

Blaine had been scared to say goodbye, not wanting to be away from the person he loved. He had experienced that pain when Kurt had transferred back to McKinley and though Blaine had loved Dalton, he soon realized the miles from Westerville to Lima were too far to have to go to get to Kurt. The larger graduation loomed, the date of distance ironically creeping ever closer, the tighter the ball of nerves in Blaine’s stomach had become. Compared to Westerville, New York was a world away.

But Blaine had believed in their love, knowing that no matter the distance it would keep them connected, the twine of it would stretch over the hills and valleys, and while it may fray it would never tear. They wouldn’t let it. As long as they both felt the pull, Blaine knew their love was still there, still real, ready and able to pull him from the despair of his surroundings back into the arms of his love. He just had to wait. And he had waited, because he made a promise. They both had.

Kurt’s graduation dinner had gone just as one would have expected. Carole had prepared a wonderful meal, the Berry Dads had done a moving rendition of Climb Every Mountain, Rachel had cried dramatically, Finn bumbling through an attempt to comfort her. Burt had offered sage advice as only he could, and Blaine had held tight to Kurt’s hand the entire time. Blaine didn’t even let go while he and Kurt washed the dishes together, making the process exceedingly slow, but Kurt had not protested even when it had resulted in dirty dishwater being splashed onto his couture jeans. Kurt did not want to let go either.

After cleaning the kitchen, their knuckles aching, Kurt and Blaine let go momentarily to switch hands, and then snuggled up on the couch to watch a movie with the whole Hudson-Hummel & Berry clan. Blaine took up a spot in the corner of one of the couches, and Kurt leaned against him and stretched his legs out over the couch, his head resting in the crook of Blaine’s shoulder and the arm Blaine had wrapped around him, their fingers clasped together at Kurt’s chest.

Neither Kurt nor Blaine followed much of the movie’s plot. Blaine lost long stretches of time staring down at Kurt and planting gentle kisses upon the crown of his head. Kurt spent most of his time gazing at their intertwined fingers only to glance up at the feel of Blaine’s lips against his temple and give him a warm smile. Blaine’s eyes would return to the screen, but Kurt’s lingered on the strong line of Blaine’s jaw and the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple before returning again to their fingers and waiting for the cycle to repeat.

Blaine had been trying to swallow his nerves the whole night, but as the movie ended, Blaine was sure the butterflies in his stomach had mounted an escape and attempted to fly, all at once, up his esophagus and out of his mouth but had found themselves lodged in his windpipe.

The previous night, while Blaine lay in bed listening contentedly to the sound of Kurt’s voice on the phone, pretending to go through their nightly moisturizing routine, Kurt had said there was something important he wanted to talk to Blaine about but that it would have to wait until the following night. Thousands of wings had immediately taken flight in Blaine’s belly. The next day was graduation and that night Blaine would be spending the night in the Hudson-Hummel house, in Kurt’s bed—with parental permission for a change. That meant Blaine could fall asleep cuddled in Kurt’s arms without worrying about waking up in a panic at 6am to the sound of Burt’s heavy footfalls and the force of Kurt pushing him out of and under the bed where Blaine would spend the better part of the next hour whispering through the box spring and mattress formulating a plan of escape with Kurt. Thankfully, that had only happened once before they started setting alarms prior to engaging in late night cuddles. However, Blaine did not have to set an alarm that night, because Kurt’s casual announcement had set off a ringing in his ears and a fluttering in his stomach that did not let him sleep. He was still trying to come to terms with the good fortune that Burt and Carole were granting him the opportunity to share a bed with Kurt for a night; especially with the nights they had remaining dwindling down to nothing. Now there was something important they needed to discuss? It was just a little too much for Blaine to handle.

The Hudson-Hummels and Berrys had agreed to let Kurt and Blaine and Finn and Rachel spend this night together, seeing as both couples were struggling with impending separation (Finn was going to remain in Ohio and work at Burt’s tire shop until he figured out what he wanted to do with his life other than spend it with Rachel). To make the arrangement tolerable, the respectiv4 parental units had decided to share the responsibility of housing the overly dramatic couples. So, when the movie ended and the Berrys left, it was with Finn in tow.

After everyone said their goodbyes, Kurt and Blaine turned, still hand in hand, to head up the stairs to Kurt’s room.

“Boys,” Burt called. “I know that tonight is…special,” he cleared his throat, “for you both, so” he sighed, “I won’t ask that you keep the door open, but please respect our home and each other.”

“Of course, Dad,” Kurt tried for nonchalance but his widening eyes gave him away.

“Yes sir, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine gulped again, with a little nod. Blaine always became extra formal when under the directive of an adult. In situations like these, Burt had given up reminding Blaine to call him Burt and instead just laughed it off and took it for what is was – a show of love and respect.

Once in Kurt’s room, Kurt let go of Blaine’s hand, shut his door and declared, “Finally!”

“Finally, what?” Blaine asked, his face confused as he stretched his fingers, feeling the blood rush back to his fingertips.

“Finally we can talk,” Kurt said with a little chuckle, gesturing toward the bed.

“About what?” Blaine asked, not moving from the door, the weight of the moment riveting him to the spot.

“I know you’ve been worried about me leaving,” Kurt began without preamble.

“Kurt, no, I haven’t bee—“

“Stop it, Sweetie,” Kurt soothed, walking toward Blaine and putting his steady hands on Blaine’s quivering shoulders. “You don’t have to keep up this routine anymore. You’re wonderful and you’ve been amazingly supportive and being worried about me leaving doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend, Blaine.”

Blaine dropped his head. “I just didn’t want you to worry about me worrying…”

“I know. And what’s crazy is that somehow that makes you even more adorable,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes and placing a gentle kiss to Blaine’s forehead.

Blaine’s relief rushed out in one breath. “Well in that case,” he snapped his head up, looking Kurt in his eyes, “I’m scared, Kurt.”

“I know.”

“But not because I don’t trust you.”

“I know.”

“It’s because…” Blaine paused and looked away.

“You can’t stand to be away from the person that you love?”

Blaine nodded.

“I’m scared too, Honey. But we’re going to be fine.” Kurt cupped Blaine’s warm face in his hand and Blaine nodded into the touch, his eyes falling shut as he whispered, “Promise?”

“It’s funny you should say that, because that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Kurt said, flashing a coy smile.

Blaine’s eyebrows rose in question.

“Sit down,” Kurt lightly instructed, leading Blaine by the shoulders to the edge of his bed. After depositing Blaine, Kurt walked over to his bookshelf and began fiddling with his iPod, slowly swaying his hips to a melody in his mind.

“Kurt?” Blaine’s brow furrowed and he stared anxiously at his boyfriend’s back. “What are you—”

“Shh,” Kurt quieted, turning away from the speakers on his bookshelf for a second to shoot Blaine a playful smile. “Just listen.”

As the music began, Kurt walked slowly, intently toward Blaine.

“If you wait for me,” Kurt sang, soft and low. “Then I’ll come for you.” Reaching the bed, Kurt ran his soft hand along Blaine’s cheek, threading his fingers into Blaine’s hair. “Although, I’ve traveled far, I always hold a place for you in my heart.”

Blaine sat frozen on the edge of the bed, staring up at Kurt, the heat in Kurt’s eyes igniting the hairs on Blaine’s skin. As Kurt slipped his leg in between Blaine’s, Blaine’s lips parted, his jaw slightly dropping, mimicking Kurt’s downward motion as he sank into the space between.

“If you think of me,” Kurt hummed, running his supple hands up Blaine’s firm thighs, the firing of Blaine’s taught muscles tangible through the smooth denim. “If you miss me once in a while,” Kurt sang, undoing the first button of Blaine’s cardigan, “then I’ll return to you.” Then the second button slipped loose, and the third, Blaine’s breath coming quickly as Kurt finally slid the cardigan from Blaine’s trembling shoulders. “Then, I’ll return and fill that space in your heart.”

Kurt drew a line up Blaine’s arm, allowing his hand to veer and linger for a moment over the rapid beating of Blaine’s heart, before dropping them to Blaine’s waist and gently tugging the fitted polo from where it was tucked into his jeans. Blaine lifted his arms into the air, allowing Kurt to pull the polo from his warm, olive skin, and toss it aside, forgotten.

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I’ll find my way back to you
If you’ll be waiting

As Kurt sang, he fed upon Blaine’s flesh with his hands and mouth as though air was a luxury that he would forever forgo in order to gorge himself on the sustenance of Blaine’s skin. Dragging his lips along Blaine’s collarbone, Kurt took one last taste before pulling away and rising to his full height, standing, still warm and present, between Blaine’s legs.

Blaine tried to meet Kurt’s eyes where they loomed above him, but his own were focused instead on where Kurt’s fingers were running along the hem of his own shirt. Slowly, inch-by-inch, Kurt revealed the perfectly muscled porcelain skin of his torso. Blaine had wondered why Kurt had chosen such a simple ensemble for an occasion as significant as graduation, but as the cashmere dislodged a few strands of Kurt’s perfectly coifed hair on its journey from his body to the floor, realization struck Blaine and sent a tremor up his leg.

“If you dream of me, like I dream of you,” Kurt’s ethereal tone ghosted over Blaine’s skin as he leaned in and guided Blaine gently backward onto the bed. Kurt made easy work of Blaine’s belt and top button. “In a place that’s warm and dark,” Kurt hummed over the vibration of Blaine’s lowering zipper. “In a place where I can feel the beating of your heart.”

Kurt palmed Blaine firmly through his jeans and Blaine’s chin snapped up to his chest, his eyes seeking out Kurt, but the sexy smirk on Kurt’s lips sent Blaine’s head crashing back down to the mattress and his hips jerking into the air – a welcome assist as Kurt all at once freed Blaine of his jeans and briefs.

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I’ll find my way back to you
If you’ll be waiting

Suddenly, Blaine was awash in the touch of Kurt’s lips as Kurt crawled, rubbing his now naked body up that of Blaine’s, leaving kisses in his wake. When Kurt’s trail reached the quivering bulge of Blaine’s throat, Blaine embraced Kurt, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s back, as Kurt, straddling Blaine, breathed into his ear, his voice hoarse and heavy with want, “I’ve longed for you, and I have desired.” Kurt placed a chaste kiss to Blaine’s lips and gazed lovingly down at him. “To see your face, your smile. To be with you wherever you are.”

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I’ll find my way back to you
If you’ll be waiting

Suddenly overcome, the love in Kurt’s heart began to pour gently from his eyes, sliding slowly down his cheeks. Blaine took Kurt’s face and the fruits of his love into his hands, before wrapping his arms once more around Kurt and in one seamless motion rolling them, taking Kurt’s willing body beneath his own. Kurt, thighs tight around Blaine’s hips, ran a foot along Blaine’s calf, and too breathless to sing, threaded his fingers into Blaine’s hair, stared into his eyes and with the earnestness of a prayer, uttered, “Together again, it would feel so good to be in your arms where all my journeys end.”

At that, Blaine, hovering over Kurt, his elbows at Kurt’s shoulders, caressed Kurt’s temples with his fingertips and lowered his forehead to rest atop Kurt’s. Kurt’s breath was cool and sweet on Blaine’s lips as he whispered, “If you can make a promise. If it’s one that you can keep. I vow to come for you. If you wait for me.” Blaine shut his eyes against his own tears but not before one escaped, trickling gracefully down his nose, and onto Kurt’s cheek, making a home with Kurt’s tears.

Kurt cupped Blaine’s face in his hand, lifting him slightly to look into his eyes. Then, in a broken voice, strengthened by love, he implored of Blaine, “Say you’ll hold a place for me in your heart.”

“Kurt, you are my heart,” Blaine breathed into Kurt’s mouth. Blaine’s tongue followed his words, sliding over Kurt’s lips as they closed around his tongue.

Kurt briefly immersed himself in the kiss, dampening his lips, before emerging, shivering yet refreshed. Cheek to cheek, Kurt’s lips brushed against Blaine’s earlobe as he panted, “Blaine,” sheer determination to follow through on his plan the only thing keeping him afloat. “I know you’re scared, I was too,” Kurt confessed. “I was afraid of how much I love you…afraid I would get hurt.”

“I would never hurt you, Kurt,” Blaine assured, lifting himself slightly to speak his truth to Kurt’s eyes.

“I know,” Kurt soothed, straining upward and quieting Blaine with a kiss. “And I can’t trust you more or love you less and…and that’s how I know, Blaine. That’s how I know this is forever. And I may be leaving but I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

Blaine bit his lip in a half smile and nuzzled his cheek lovingly against Kurt’s.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…” Kurt continued, “if you’re willing to wait, I’ll come back to you. Forever. I promise.”

“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life, Kurt.” Rising in his passion, Blaine surged forward, crashing over Kurt. The muscles in Kurt’s neck were taut and strained as he met the tide, and he and Blaine were swept away by the undertow, mouths open, tasting, swallowing, lungs filling with the breath of the other, fully submerged.

Blaine’s hunger for Kurt dragged him into the depths of his desire and suddenly Blaine was bent over Kurt as if feeding, licking and blowing at the textured flesh of Kurt’s exposed, erect nipples. Blaine dragged his tongue down Kurt’s pinkening flesh, kissing the smooth lines of his abs, licking at the small, indented belly button, and blowing chilling breaths over the fine hairs along his lower abdomen, as Kurt came undone beneath him.

Crouched and mouthing along Kurt’s hipbones, Blaine teased a writhing Kurt as he sucked along the pale, firm slope of his inner thighs. He splayed his fingers along the curvature of Kurt’s thighs, pushed them open and upward, so that the heels of his feet brushed gently along Blaine’s shoulder blades.

Blaine exhaled, rubbing his cheek along Kurt’s upper thigh, before darting his tongue into the warm crevice at the meeting of Kurt’s thigh and hip, where he was the sweetest. This earned Blaine a playful smack on the shoulder, and Blaine giggled lightly, smiling up at Kurt before licking his wanton lips, and taking Kurt into his moistening mouth. Blaine hummed around Kurt’s length. Blaine loved this – the heavy weight of Kurt against his tongue, the pliancy of the smooth flesh of Kurt’s shaft, the way the taste of Kurt made his mouth water, the liquid clinging to and sliding down Kurt’s hardness.

With lips wrapped firmly around Kurt’s cock, Blaine inhaled, pressing his tongue along the veins of Kurt’s shaft, around the tip, dabbing into the slit, the bitter taste of Kurt’s seed eliciting a moan from deep within Blaine’s belly.

Blaine came up for air, stroking Kurt while he sucked one finger wet and moistened the circumference of Kurt’s entrance before dipping in, allowing Kurt’s body to swallow his finger as he again swallowed Kurt. Kurt’s body clenched with the sensation and the resulting, involuntary muscle spasm pushed the heels of Kurt’s feet down harder on Blaine’s back, urging him on. As Blaine’s finger glided easily in and out of Kurt’s warmth, Blaine suddenly jerked up his head, Kurt’s length popping out of his mouth with a lewd slurp. “Kurt,” Blaine moaned, pushing in two fingers with ease, “are you…already…ready?”

Kurt’s hooded eyes, looking down the length of his body, glistening with sweat, fell on Blaine’s awe-filled face. Drawing the corner of his lip under his teeth, Kurt nodded sheepishly, “…I…wanted to be prepared.”

Blaine’s eyes rolled beneath his fluttering lids and he only managed a broken, “Uhh, I love you so mu—“ before blocking the flow of his own words with Kurt’s cock, licking and sucking in time with the rise and fall of his slickening grip, the knuckles of his other hand disappearing into Kurt, arching the back of Kurt’s already thrashing body. The need for discretion bit down hard on Kurt’s lip and halted his breathing. Kurt was afraid even a simple exhale would call forth the moans and wails building in the pit of his stomach, where Blaine’s sweat-freed curls tickled the sensitive flesh of his mid-drift with each eager drop of Blaine’s head creating a maddening sensation that locked Kurt’s knees and curled his toes.

Kurt could take no more. His left hand clawing at Blaine’s shoulder, Kurt shoved his other hand under the pillow beside his head, clutching wildly at fabric before closing around one of the condoms he had strategically placed there that morning. “Come here,” Kurt pleaded, forcing the wrapper into his mouth and tearing it unceremoniously with his teeth.

At the sound, Blaine shimmied, panting, up Kurt’s body, planting himself astride Kurt’s torso. “Where were you hiding that?” Blaine smirked.

“Under the pillow,” Kurt shrugged shyly, sliding the condom over Blaine, feeling the rapid pulse of Blaine’s heart in his hand. “I told you…I wanted to be prepared.”

Kurt grinned and Blaine’s eyebrows nearly retreated into his hairline as he watched Kurt’s hand again dart beneath the pillow near his head and retrieve a small container of lubrication. Kurt flicked open the cap and drizzled the liquid over Blaine, sheathed and pulsing, as Kurt lightly massaging him with his hand, though Blaine certainly did not need further encouragement. Blaine began to tremble, and Kurt, thinking it was his touch that elicited such a response, was a bit surprised when he glanced up from where his hand was caressing Blaine, to see Blaine smiling, his eyes closed, clearly trying to suppress giggles. Blaine was laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Kurt asked suspiciously, stilling his hand.

Blaine’s eyes shot open, “Oh, Babe, no,” Blaine soothed, covering Kurt’s hand with his, stroking it in hopes that Kurt would resume stroking him. “I’m sorry about the laughing…it’s just…I…” he stuttered. “When we’re like this…doing this…and you’re so prepared…and thoughtful…ugh, it’s just so you, and you’re so adorable, and I can’t help but smile,” Blaine rambled, reaching out to softly swipe his fingertips along Kurt’s cheek, “because all I can think about is how much I love you and I want to tell you every time I think it, but then I don’t because I don’t want you to think that somehow I love you more when we’re like this, because I love you all the time, and if I told you every time I thought it, I think it’d be the only thing I ever said,” Blaine chuckled. “And it’s silly because as much as I think it I’m still worried I don’t say it enough, and it’s just so obvious how crazy you make me and I thi—“

“Trust me,” Kurt interrupted, “you tell me enough.” Kurt rubbed his hands up the muscled contours of Blaine’s arms, onto his shoulders, and brought him down into a kiss.

“I could never tell you enough,” Blaine whispered against Kurt’s mouth.

And with only those three words in his mind and on his lips, Blaine slid between Kurt’s thighs and into his heat. Kurt’s interlocked ankles rested comfortably at the base of Blaine’s spine, as their hips met, their bodies flush, Kurt’s arousal pulsing between them. These initial stationary moments were always the most intense, their breath syncing along with their bodies, as they gazed into each other’s eyes, the thin rims of blue and hazel nearly washed out by the overflow of pleasure. Blaine’s breath was shallow and light as he forgot the convention of oxygen and was consumed by the feel of Kurt contracting around him, adjusting to allow him entry. Kurt lay still, relishing the subtle pulse and motion, foreign yet achingly familiar, rippling inside him with every beat of Blaine’s heart, as though Blaine was living within him.

Tightening his thighs around Blaine’s gently trembling hips, Kurt took Blaine’s face into his hands and through quivering lips, said, “I want you to remember this. The feel of us.” And they both felt it, the slow drag and delicious friction of their connection, Kurt enveloping Blaine at every entry and clinging at every exit. Blaine moaned loudly into the slick curve of Kurt’s throat, the moist heat of his breath bending Kurt’s fingers, where they dug into the rippling sway of Blaine’s back, fumbling for purchase as the increasing motion of their bodies undulated, the strength and speed threatening to toss them into pleasure’s abyss but for their tenuous grips on each other and reality.

Blaine’s hips began to stutter and he muttered something Kurt could not quite hear.

“What, Blaine? What is it?” Kurt managed through frantic breaths.

“Switch?” Blaine moaned the request into Kurt’s ear. Feeling more than seeing Kurt’s eager nod, Blaine slipped out of Kurt, eliciting obscene moans from both of them. Kurt and Blaine’s hands fumbled together as they both jammed their hands beneath the jostled pillow by Kurt’s head. Blaine’s shaking fingers closed around the small, square packaging and he struggled for a moment with the wrapping before shaking his head, realizing there wasn’t enough blood in his fingers or brain to produce the needed dexterity for the task at hand. Chuckling, Kurt traded the container of lubrication he had retrieved for the condom that had defeated Blaine. Kurt freed the circular prize from the evil wrapping, but Blaine, so eager, already drizzling the cool thick liquid into his palm, playfully snatched it from Kurt’s hand, declaring, “I can take it from here.” Blaine smiled and smoothed the latex down Kurt’s shaft. “Sit up for me?” Blaine requested.

Kurt lifted himself onto his elbows and shimmied backward so he was sitting upright, his back resting against the headboard. “Hmm, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Babe,” Blaine said, faux seriousness on his face as he grabbed the top of the headboard and gave it a little jiggle.

Kurt giggled despite himself, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Blaine crawled backward into the middle of the bed, motioning for Kurt to follow. Using the heels of his feet as leverage, Kurt bent his knees and slid his lube-slicked bottom along the sheets, the curve and motion of his knees making him look like some wonky caterpillar. Blaine dropped his head in laughter and Kurt shoved playfully at Blaine’s shoulder.

“You’re so cute,” Blaine grinned, moving in and straddling Kurt’s legs where he now sat in the center of the bed.

“Am I still cute?” Kurt quipped as he darted a hand between Blaine’s thighs and slid in a finger, wiggling it slightly to elicit the desired reaction. Blaine hummed and nodded, leaning into Kurt and with a low, seductive whisper, he assured, “The cutest.” Still on his knees, Blaine rocked back and forth onto Kurt’s fingers, nipping playfully at Kurt’s with every forward motion. “I like it best when we’re face to face,” Blaine whispered, dropping a kiss onto Kurt’s smiling lips. “Criss cross, apple sauce,” Blaine sang, pointing down to Kurt’s legs.

“You’re ridiculous,” Kurt said, shaking his head, but doing as Blaine requested, crossing his ankles and pulling them in so that his knees bowed out.

“Yep,” Blaine quipped, rising onto his spread knees, hovering momentarily over Kurt’s sheathed and glistening cock. “But you love me.”

Before Kurt could verbally assure Blaine that was indeed the case, Blaine was lowering himself, impossibly slow and tight. Down a centimeter, then up. Kurt’s breath caught in his throat, mouth open, jaw trembling. Down an inch, then up. Blaine worked himself open on Kurt’s cock, his thighs vibrating with the effort. The rising sensation stole Kurt’s ability to form adult, coherent speech, reducing him to whimpers as he and Blaine locked eyes, the sight of the other the only thing keeping them from rolling into the pleasure fluttering their heavy lids.

Then, all at once, Blaine was sitting in Kurt’s lap, legs wrapped around his slim, quaking waist, ankles locked at the base of his erect spine, with Kurt large and pulsing inside of him. They were like two interlocked rings, connected at the curve, the center of themselves, lost in the infinite bliss.

They had tried this before, after an embarrassing and eye opening search for new positions that would allow them to make love in the way they had been accustomed since their first meeting: eye to eye. Blaine had been seated at his desk, Kurt peering through his fingers over Blaine’s shoulder at the glaring computer screen, the occasional gasp escaping between lamentations of the clearly poor choices that had transpired in the lives of the people depicted in the decidedly adult advertisements outlining the page. However, Kurt’s hands had fallen from his mouth to Blaine’s shoulders, a high-pitched “Oh!” coursing out and catching Blaine’s interest right behind his navel when their current position had miraculously materialized on the screen.

“I…I…like that one,” Kurt’s voice had crept out, low and shy. “I’d…get to see you.”

“Yeah?” Blaine said, turning slightly to see the blush coloring Kurt’s cheekbones.

“Yeah.”

“Do you…want to try it?”

Kurt nodded and, after Blaine diligently scrubbed his browser history, they had. It failed spectacularly. They hadn’t been able to set the right rhythm, Kurt had been a bit too heavy on Blaine’s smaller thighs, and kept swiveling in when he was supposed to roll out, and they had both ended up with bruised foreheads after Blaine’s sudden and painful leg cramp sent them tumbling into each other and over the side of the bed amidst Blaine’s distressed cries of “Charlie horse! Charlie horse!” But that did not defeat their efforts – they were nothing if not determined.

Sure, other positions worked fine. They were Kurt and Blaine, the sexual chemistry and tension was palpable—their bodies communicated in any position. However, their union emitted a special passion when physicality and intimacy collided at the meeting of their eyes. For it was there, in the swirling pools of blue and hazel, that their love was made, their bodies merely dipping into the well of love poured from their eyes. With practice, Kurt and Blaine had soon found that The Lotus was perfect, Blaine seated astride Kurt’s surging hips, his petite frame easier to lift.

Now, they were experts. Kurt took Blaine’s supple ass into his hands, assisting as they rocked, in sync, out and away, Kurt gliding deliciously to Blaine’s rim, Blaine’s body clinging to the head of Kurt’s cock, fragile and twitching, before rolling back in, hip to hip, Blaine swathing Kurt’s girth.

Their bodies fell into the familiar rhythm, increasing with the pace of their hearts, blood coursing hot and thick through their veins, pooling at the center of their bodies, where they met, engorged, the tips of their nerves igniting, begging for their pleasure to froth over and douse the heat threatening to engulf them.

Blaine fell into the flames, bracing himself against Kurt, his head against Kurt’s shoulder as Kurt’s broken moans licked like flames from his lips, singeing Blaine’s ear and neck, blood rushing to the surface like smoke. Blaine clinched his eyes shut, the pressure of his climax building at the base of his spine, threatening to blow and shatter his fragile hold on his sanity. Kurt was already gone, mouth wide, head thrown back, sucking in what air he could as Blaine’s walls closed around him, squeezing the contours of his cock with each tremor he elicited from Blaine’s body.

Wisps and whines of hunger and desperation ran from Kurt’s mouth, and knowing he would beat Kurt to the finish if he didn’t, Blaine released his tenuous grip on Kurt’s sweat soaked back and slid two fingers into Kurt’s willful mouth, giving him something to suck, dampening his pangs like a light meal before dessert.

But the warm, tight moisture around his fingers and the steady, simultaneous push of Kurt’s wet tongue between his fingers and heavy cock into his ass lit his appetite and Blaine dropped down, gluttonous, onto Kurt’s twitching hardness and came, throwing his head back, sated, only to have it caught by Kurt’s hand and his mouth filled with Kurt’s thrusting tongue, who, in his own climax, had pushed Blaine’s fingers from his swollen lips choosing to feast on Blaine’s instead.

Panting and spent, they fell sideways, Kurt slipping from Blaine body, the last, wet drag of friction taxing their sensitive nerves. Blaine, shaking, sucked in a gust of air through the walls of his teeth and Kurt shuddered out one last heady moan, rolling into Blaine, their sweat glazed foreheads kissing before, seeing the wrecked state of the other, they both dissolved into the satisfied giggles of two boys full on love. What a scene they must have been: a teeming mass of naked, intertwined, trembling limbs, in the center of Kurt’s Egyptian Cotton 600 thread count sheets, now dirty with love.

The warmth of the sun tickled Blaine’s eyelids and they blinked open, his lashes grazing the tender curve of Kurt’s neck. On mornings like this, Blaine always relished the first taste of air, filling his lungs, taking in the heavy musk that always clung deliciously to Kurt’s skin – the smell of them, the scent of their love. Blaine parted his lips and suckled Kurt’s neck, savoring the flavor of the mingled drops of last night’s efforts. Blaine feasted while he could, knowing that soon Kurt would wake and wash it all away, clearing and redressing the table, leaving Blaine hungry for another meal.

Blaine preferred to bathe Kurt with his mouth, but Kurt often protested, believing such activities pleasurable but inefficient. Kurt was, of course, correct as had been empirically proven on the few occasions Kurt had allowed them to indulge, only to leave them caked in another layer, more exhausted and dirtier than before.

“Hungry, are we?” Kurt said, his normally light voice weighted down with sleep.

“Mmm hmm,” Blaine hummed around a mouthful of Kurt’s flesh. “Always hungry for you,” Blaine garbled between nibbles.

“That certainly seems to be the case,” Kurt giggled, “but I’m hungry for breakfast and we have to get cleaned up. If Dad finds us like this, he’ll be hungry for your blood.” Kurt began the task of untangling their love-tacky limbs, but before he could properly extricate himself, Blaine rolled him onto his back, maneuvering himself on top of Kurt and began licking him in earnest.

“Ahh!” Kurt shrieked, squirming and playfully pushing against Blaine’s chest. “What is wrong with you?!” Kurt asked in mock accusation.

“I’m hungry, you’re unclean,” Blaine explained, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I’m killing two birds with one stone.”

“Oh my god, my boyfriend is insane!”

“Wait!” Blaine said, pulling back, eyes wide with shock. “Who is this ‘boyfriend’ of which you speak? Is there someone else?” Blaine couldn’t stop himself from cracking a wry smile.

“You are impossible!” Kurt laughed, freeing his hands from Blaine’s grip and pinching and twisting Blaine’s nipple. Blaine yelped and retaliated with tickles, his most effective weapon, but Kurt was too fast for him and before he knew it he was on his back, breathless with laughter, watching Kurt’s perfect, naked bottom scurry across the room and into the adjoining bathroom.
“Don’t worry!” Blaine called after Kurt. “I’ll just wait here!” And he fell back onto the sheets, cradling the back of his head in the palms of his interlocked fingers, sighing contentedly up at the ceiling.

Just then, Kurt poked his nose out of the bathroom door and said, smiling, “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” The door clicked shut once more and Blaine, eyes distant and lips curved, whispered toward the heavens, “I hope so…I hope so…” Twice. For both promises.

Blaine was not done. He could never been done, not with Kurt. Kurt knew that, he had to know that. They could figure this out. They had to.

Blaine scrambled for his phone and dialed.

“Hello, you’ve reached the one and only, Kurt Hummel.”

“Come on, Kurt!” Blaine pleaded, hanging up and dialing again. “I didn’t mean it. You have to know I didn’t mean it.”

“Hello, you’ve reached th—“

“No, no, no…” Blaine’s anxiety was morphing into anger. Anger at himself for losing control, anger at Kurt for causing this, anger at Timmy for taking advantage, anger at the injustice that caused him to be sitting here, miles from his love, just as it had separated him from Dale and consciousness that night so long ago.

When Blaine heard Kurt’s recorded voice a third time, his rage propelled his phone across the room and into the wall, where it ricocheted, flickered black, and crashed to the floor, shattered and silent.

“Damnit!” Blaine yelled, dropping to his knees beside the remains of his phone, trying in vain to mend it.

“Blaine? I heard a noi—“ his mother stopped mid-sentence, cracking open the door, her eyes settling on Blaine.

“Mom!” Blaine blurted in surprise, turning from her to wipe the tears of which her presence had made him suddenly aware.

“Blaine…what’s wrong?” Camille asked, her voice tentative, wary. “Is it…is it Kurt?”

His name. Blaine nodded at the sound of it and the weight of acknowledgment, of loss, fell upon him, embarrassment and pride crumbling, giving way to grief and he let the tears fall.

Suddenly, his mother’s arms were wrapped around his hunched and quaking frame. It was a rare but welcome feeling, to be safe again in her arms, shielded at least in part from the realities, the pains of a life beyond her reach, on the outskirts of childhood, looking in on and longing for the carefree bliss and ignorance of those who had never endured love. There, on the floor, in his mother’s arms, cradled and crying, Blaine let it spill – their promises, Kurt’s indiscretions, Blaine’s fears.

Some time later, empty and quiet, Blaine lay on the floor, knees pulled tight to his chest, head resting in his mother’s lap, her soft soothing hand brushing gently at his temple, as his heartbeat began to slow, falling in time with the steady rise and fall of her chest.

“Sweetheart,” her voice crept out, as if reluctant to interrupt Blaine’s mourning. “You should call him.”

“My phone…” Blaine’s voice was hollow and hoarse.

“I know. Let me get mine,” she whispered, adjusting as if to rise. Blaine’s arms instinctually tensed around her waist. He was not ready to let go, to be left alone.

“Blaine, please,” she implored, though she did not make to move again.

“No…he…he doesn’t want to talk me…” his words were labored, washed out in the initial flood, and he was trying now to lessen the force of the rising tide by allowing small drops of the truth to trickle out.

“You don’t know th—“

“I called, Mom,” Blaine interrupted. “He…he won’t answer.”

“I’m sure he’s just upset,” she comforted, affecting a light, optimistic tone.

“I told him I was…that I was done. He thinks…it’s over,” painful resignation was audible in Blaine’s broken voice.

“Give him some time,” his mother advised, stroking a stray curl coiled at his furrowed brow. “That’s what I do with your father…” They stiffened both at the mention of his father and the implicit comparison of the relationships – it was the first time his mother had referenced what he and Kurt had—used to have—as if it were normal, okay. “Call him in the morning.”

Blaine nodded into her lap, too weak to protest. Satisfied, she adjusted slightly, leaned her back comfortably against the foot of his bed, and threaded her fingers into his hair. Secure in her presence, Blaine loosened his grip and lowered himself into sleep.

***
Blaine awoke to his mother’s voice, distant, her comforting touch gone, replaced by the warmth of his pillow and embrace of his sheets. Though his memory was crawling out of unconsciousness, he was certain he had not arrived there by his own power and he smiled slightly at his mother, framed in the doorway, before her worried expression reminded him of the previous night’s events, clenching his stomach, the pain radiating anew.

“Blaine? Your friend—I think his name is Artie—he’s downstairs,” she spoke softly, as though he was suffering from a hangover and not a broken heart. “He says you all are meant to be working on some sort of project. I told him…I told him you weren’t feeling well but that I would check and see if you were up to it.”

“Oh! For AP European History,” Blaine muttered, clapping his hand to his forehead. “Thank you, Mom,” he said through a pained smile. “Umm…would you mind telling him I’ll be down in a minute?” he asked, closing his eyes and pushing his cheek into the pillow.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mom,” he lied, obligation rolling him onto his back, stretching his stiff muscles. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as his mother. Blaine guessed he was more successful in persuading her, for she tiptoed backward kissing the door to the frame. Blaine forcibly exhaled the air that had been trapped in his gut, blocked by the grief that had settled in his chest when the events of last night arose in his mind. He ran his hands over his face, threw back the sheets, and found he was still wearing the now irretrievably wrinkled sweater vest and crooked bow tie. Sighing at the discovery, he rolled from the bed and trudged downstairs. He did not have the energy or motivation to rectify his disheveled appearance much less work with Artie on their project, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to be rude.

“Wow, man, you look like hell,” Artie breathed, clearly not as committed to manners as Blaine.

“Thanks, Artie,” Blaine said sarcastically, running his hand absently through his slowly frizzing hair.

“So that’s what you’ve been hiding under those layers of gel?” Artie quipped.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, the curls…” Blaine shrugged. “Umm…Artie…honestly, I just came down to tell you I’m not really up to working on our project today. I…I’m not feeling well,” he muttered, casting his eyes to the side. At least it wasn’t a complete lie. “I’m really sorry. Can we do it another time?”

“Sure. Not a problem. I’ll just go.”

Blaine exhaled, his shoulders sagging with relief. “Thanks Artie, I’ll help—“

“But not before you tell me what’s really wrong.”

“Wha—?“

“Blaine,” Artie cut him off, cocking an eyebrow and rolling to where Blaine stood at the foot of the stairs. “You bailed on me and Tina yesterday, you ignored her texts, then you don’t answer my calls this morning or come out to help me out of my dad’s car, and now you stumble down the stairs like something out of Thriller, Jerry Curl and all, saying we can’t work on the project, and you expect me to believe you’re ‘not feeling well?’” Artie accused, adding air quotes for emphasis.

Even if Blaine had possessed the mental strength to lie in that moment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to—he was already lonely enough. Why push away someone who wanted in?

“Kurt and I had a fight.” The words and the bitter truth beneath them were like acid on his tongue.

“So, he finally called?” Artie asked.

“Yeah…Skype…how did you know?”

“Tina.” They both nodded knowingly. “Well…” Artie pressed, “is everything alright? Did you work things out?”

Blaine felt as though his current state should be answer enough, but he dropped his head and shook it before whispering, “I think…I think we broke up.”

“No!” Artie blurted, his eyes wide with shock. Somehow Artie’s level of disbelief, as though a universal law had been violated, was some small consolation, a reassurance that he, Blaine, hadn’t been foolish to believe…still believe. “What do you mean you ‘think’? What happened?” Artie pressed.

“I…I…there was yelling,” Blaine stuttered, “and I said…I said I was done and pretty much hung up in his face.” Ashamed at the admission, Blaine could not meet Artie’s questioning eyes.

“Blaine?” Artie shook his head as if trying to juggle this new, conflicting information so that it aligned with what he already knew of Kurt and Blaine. Artie’s expression made it clear he had failed.

“I know…” Blaine breathed, “but you don’t know the circumstances. I tried to call him back, but he wouldn’t answer.”

“Did you call him again?”

“Yes. Of course,” Blaine said, flipping his hands in tired exasperation at his side. “I told you, he wouldn’t answer.”

“Then call him again,” Artie said matter-of-factly, jutting his chin out slightly.

“Artie,” Blaine sighed, willing Artie to understand. “He’s not going to—“

“Did you mean it? Are you done?” Artie’s voice was rising. “Do you want to break up with him, Blaine?”

“No!” Blaine stumbled backward slightly, surprising even himself with the force and speed of his response, as though his heart did not need assistance from his brain to express its desires, its needs.

“Then call him again,” Artie directed.

“He’s not going to answer.”

“Then you call until he does. You call until he listens.”

“I broke my phone…I can’t,” Blaine tried, shifting his weight and rapidly rubbing the pads of his fingertips along his moistening palms as they shook nervously at his thighs.

“Then use mine,” Artie insisted, pulling his phone from his pocket with alarming speed and offering it to Blaine who ran an unsteady hand through his curls before reluctantly accepting the phone.

Blaine stared momentarily at the small device in his hand. “He’s not going to answer, Artie.”

“Yes, he will. If I know Kurt, he’s by the phone right now, waiting for you to call.” Artie flicked his wrists in a shooing gesture, encouraging Blaine to get on with it, and Blaine, scared yet hopeful, dialed Kurt’s number.

Blaine stood there, the phone to his ear, his heart in his throat, each ring a palpitation, a stutter, churning his gut, stinging as he fought to swallow the panic. Then came the telltale click of a presence on the other line and Blaine’s heart stopped. Kurt had answered, though his voice was low and strange.

Blaine forced air out of his lungs, over his vocal chords, around the pulsing in his throat, and breathed, “Kurt?” He spent the last breath he possessed calling out for Kurt, only to realize Kurt was no longer there. Kurt was gone to a place where Blaine’s voice could no longer reach. Blaine was alone on the thin ice of trust and distance, the sound of Timmy’s voice cracking the foundation, Blaine slipped beneath the surface, the icy waters of betrayal drowning out his voice.

Artie had been wrong. Kurt had not been by the phone waiting. Kurt was in the shower, no doubt washing off the scent and taste of another man while Blaine lay, alone, remembering Kurt’s touch, his kiss, waiting for him to return as promised.

Their love severed, Blaine no longer felt the reassuring tug deep within, for he knew, no matter how hard he pulled, their connection had gone slack. Kurt was no longer at the other end. The love on which Blaine had depended was now powerless to retrieve him. Instead, Blaine was entangled in it alone, the loose twine binding his arms and ankles and dragging him into the depths. It would be nearly a month before he felt the familiar pull, frayed, but perhaps not yet torn.

Him 2:47pm
I’m here.

Him 8:19am
For you.

Him 5:32pm
I miss you.

Him 11:56pm
I love you.

Blaine 12:03am
I love you.

Him 12:05am
Can we meet?

Blaine 12:09am
Where?

Kurt 12:11am
At the beginning.