“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”

 Blaine barreled into the parlor of his father and stepmother’s private chambers, ignoring the servants trying to frantically trying to clothe him and restrain him from doing so, only accomplishing the clothing successfully. Both Dionysus and Ariadne were startled from the loveseat, so that when Blaine launched himself at his father, the Olympian was standing. Blaine’s shouts slurred together in a mixture of tears and rage, coming out as incomprehensible babble as he threw himself at Dionysus and tried to strike him.

“ENOUGH!” the Olympian roared, hurling his son to the ground, which had begun to tremble from his quickly escalating anger. The servants watched on with a rapt horror.

Blaine glared up at Dionysus viciously. “YOU’RE A FUCKING BASTARD, YOU KNOW THAT? YOU AND YOUR STUPID RULES AND CONDITIONS—YOU COULDN’T JUST LET ME BE HAPPY—“

“HOW DARE YOU—I WAS HELPING YOU, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SHIT!” the Olympian bellowed in response to Blaine’s accusations. “I WAS TRYING TO PREVENT SOMETHING EXACTLY LIKE THIS FROM HAPPENING, BUT DESPITE MY BEST EFFORTS YOU STILL MANAGED TO FUCK IT UP! AND THEN YOU COME IN HERE, DISRUPTING MY EVENING WITH MY WIFE, SPEAKING TO ME IN SUCH A WAY AND TRYING TO BLAME THIS ON—“

“SPARE ME THE LECTURE, OLD MAN!” Blaine cut his father off, as he rose to his feet. “MAY ALL THE GODS FORBID THAT YOUR PRECIOUS PRIDE IS INSULTED!”

“I EARNED THE RESPECT YOU REFUSE TO SHOW ME!” Dionysus countered. “UNLIKE YOURSELF, I’M NOT AN ENTITLED, SPOILED BRAT FUCKING AROUND WITH MORTALS, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Blaine let out a mirthless, taunting laugh. “OH, I’M A SON OF A BITCH? I THOUGHT THAT WAS YOUR OFFICIAL TITLE, WHAT WHEN ZEUS FUCKED YOUR WHORE MOTH—“

Several things happened at once. The room shook more violently, so much so that the floor threatened to split, Dionysus roared and raised his hand, Blaine shrank in on himself anticipating the blow—

“STOP!”

Everything froze and refocused on Ariadne, now positioned in between her husband and stepson. Her eyes were alight with an intense protectiveness.

“Ariadne,” Dionysis sighed. “Get out of the—“

“No.” The goddess’s voice was quiet but determined.

“Ariadne,” he pressed. “He’s my son and I’m—“

“I don’t care who’s he is, you’re not laying a hand on him!” she insisted, glancing between Dionysus and Blaine. “I’m doing this for both of you, so that neither of you do something you’ll regret.”

A long, loaded silence transpired between the couple, a heated, nonverbal conversation amongst the spouses that everyone else (Blaine, the servants still in petrified in the doorway) could only watch and wait for something to emerge from it.

Ariadne spoke first. “Blaine,” she turned her head slightly so she could make eye contact with the god over her shoulder. “The maenads will escort you to your regular room, I trust it shouldn’t take more than a minute or two for them to ready.”

Blaine simply stared at his stepmother for a moment, blinking and gaping while he tried to comprehend her command. She offered a small, encouraging smile in the meantime. The god wet his lips and swallowed before answering quietly, “Yes, Stepmother.”

He slipped from the room with the attendants hastily, leaving Dionysus alone with his life once more.

“I don’t appreciate that, Ariadne” he murmured once Blaine and the maenads were out of sight. “Undermining my authority in front of my children the way you did.”

Ariadne exhaled tiredly. “I’m sorry, Don, I wasn’t trying to ‘undermine your authority’, I promise, it’s just…I know your relationship with Blaine over the years has been rough, and I didn’t want it to suffer more than it already has.”

“What was I supposed to do? Just stand there and let him berate me?” Dionysus contested. “Believe me, I am sincerely disappointed he ruined things with the mortal, but it’s not my fault he doesn’t have any tact whatsoever—“

“Of course he doesn’t have any tact!” Ariadne exclaimed. “All he’s ever had to do to get anyone to agree with him in the past was simply look at them. It’s all he knows, Don.”

“I know, I know,” the Olympian replied frustratedly. “I didn’t choose what power to bequeath him with, Ariadne.”

“I’m not saying you were! Honey,” she placed her dainty hand on Dionysus’s broad shoulder, and asserted gently, “I’m not trying to argue with you, you don’t need to be so defensive.”

For the first time since Blaine’s unexpected arrival, Dionysus smiled slightly, the corners of his lips turning just enough that a miniscule grin could be discerned on the Olympian’s face. “I’m—I don’t mean to take my anger toward him out on you.”

“I know,” she assured him with a small smile of her own.

“You know, I can’t help but feel partly responsible,” he confessed, his voice so low it was barely audible. “In hindsight, I should have known sending him to Aphrodite would have been a disaster.”

“You knew she was the only one who could convert him,” the goddess told him as she rubbed his back soothingly. “You were only trying to help.”

“And look where that’s got me,” Dionysus harrumphed. “Perhaps it is better that I stay out of his life and let him hate me for neglecting him.”

“Don, don’t” Ariadne urged, “Don’t think like that. Every father and son have their own set of problems and dysfunctionality. You and Zeus have had your respective quarrels, am I right?”

“You are,” he relented. “You always are.”

The goddess grinned and kissed her husband tenderly. Dionysus rose and turned back to regard his wife.

“I suppose that question now is where we go from here,” he ruminated.

“Is there any chance that his relationship with Kurt can be salvaged?” Ariadne asked.

“I don’t know,” the Olympian replied, scrubbing a hand over his face in vexation and exhaustion. “I believe I should find out.”

Ariadne grinned and stood to kiss her husband once again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he averred.

“I’m going to check on him,” she informed him. “I won’t say anything yet, but I just want to make sure he’s alright.”

The Olympian took a long moment to look at his wife, to truly see her. It never failed to amaze him that Ariadne’s heart and soul were just as breathtaking as her appearance. Although Dionysus was a god, not only divine but an Olympian son of Zeus, while Ariadne had only been a demigoddess when they married, he still suspected that he wasn’t worthy of her kindness and beauty.

0-0-0

Blaine didn’t know how long he had been sprawled out on his bed sobbing when he heard a knocking on his door. It was as if time ceased to exist and had been replaced by an unending continuum of pain, sorrow, and regret. The god was content to let the knocking go ignored until he heard it once more after a moment or two.

“GO AWAY!” He shouted and buried his face back into his pillow. Blaine was dimly aware that he was acting much like a teenage mortal girl, but was so far gone in his despair that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Blaine, darling,” Ariadne’s soft, instantly recognizable voice drifted through the door. “It’s me. I brought you some tea, but I can leave it out here if you want.”

“No,” the deity sniffled. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and began to rise off of the bed. “No, I’ll come get it.”

He opened the door to find his stepmother standing opposite him, her face wearing a compassionate, benevolent expression and her arms bearing a tray of, what Blaine could discern from the smell, cinnamon saffron tea.

“You…you remembered my favorite,” Blaine began incredulously. “You seriously have twelve kids with my dad but you still remembered my favorite type of tea.”

“Of course I did,” she replied with a warm smile. “You’re very important to me, Blaine.”

Her blatant show of endearment caused a fresh wave of tears to crash over the god. Ariadne’s face fell at the sight of her stepson in tears once again, and she entered the room with a swift grace, crossing through the small sitting room before placing the tray of tea on a table and perched herself on the bed. She turned to Blaine, who had been aimlessly following her movements with her arms open. The god collapsed into her embrace without a moment’s hesitation, his face buried into his bosom as he cried at a shamelessly loud volume.

Blaine knew he was being pathetic, that he had regressed to acting like he was eight instead of two thousand five hundred and twenty eight, but Blaine had never received any maternal affection growing up. He didn’t even meet Aphrodite until he was in his late twenties and besides, she never treated the god as anything more than an insignificant pest. The nymphs that raised him were caring, but it wasn’t the same. Ariadne was the only semblance of a mother Blaine had.

“I ruined everything, Ariadne,” he whimpered into her chest. “He hates me.”

“Shhhh,” the goddess attempted to mollify him as she stroked his hair. “It’ll be alright.”

“No, it won’t,” Blaine argued. “I threatened to rape him, he’ll never forgive me for that. He was right about me, everything he said—“

“You were angry,” Ariadne interjected, “and hurt, and unfortunately, you have your parents’ temper. But darling, if you really love him, you can’t lose hope just yet.”

The god sniffed and gazed up at her. “But what about the whole ‘if you love him, set him free’ thing?”

Ariadne grinned tenderly. “It’s valid, but you and Kurt, you two have changed each other for the better so much in the little time you’ve known each other, and it would be a shame if that went to waste.”

“How did I change Kurt for the better?” Blaine importuned. “I…I corrupted him.”

“Well,” Ariadne struggled momentarily to put things delicately. “You may have taken his virginity, but Blaine dear, you showed him how special he is. If you could have seen how he was before he came to Greece—it was upsetting, Blaine, how belittled he felt.” She brushed a few curls from his forehead. “And his impact on you has been astonishing, to say the least.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, my tirade and threats back there really showed how much of a softie I’ve become.”

“Blaine,” the goddess said, her grave tone compelling her stepson to look her in the eye. “Two months ago, you wouldn’t have hesitated to act on the threats you made tonight, and you certainly wouldn’t have been here filled with all this remorse and guilt afterwards. You’re a better man, trust me.”

He nodded, silently capitulating. “I just don’t think I’ll be able to make things like they were before.”

“You won’t,” Ariadne agreed. Blaine’s brow furrowed at her reply. “But just because things will be different doesn’t mean that they can’t be better.” She took the god’s face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Now rest, dear. Things won’t seem as bad in the morning.”

Blaine acquiesced, situating himself on the bed as Ariadne rose and made her way back to the door. Before she left, Blaine called her name.

“Yes?”

“I…I want you to know, even if Aphrodite smites me for saying so, I don’t even really care at this point…that I wish I was your son,” the god confessed, looking more fragile and vulnerable than Ariadne had ever seen him.

She sent him a knowing grin before she told him, “As far as I’m concerned, Blaine, you are.”

0-0-0

Kurt couldn’t believe this. Blaine had abandoned him. He had abandoned him naked, defenseless, and in the middle of foreign forest Kurt couldn’t begin to dream of navigating himself out of.

Yet, somehow, he could believe it. Kurt knew that this summer had been too good to be true, he had always expected everything to come crumbling down on around him. All along Kurt knew this would have to end sometime because deep down, he knew that he wasn’t worthy of true happiness, he didn’t deserve the fairy tale ending he’d read about since childhood, that he wasn’t destined for that kind of fulfillment—

“Kurt?”

The sudden sound of a voice caused Kurt to jump and shriek as he scrambled to collect himself from the crying heap he’d been for the past while.

“Hey, Kurt, are you there?” the masculine voice called again. His body released a fraction of tension when he deduced that the voice wasn’t Blaine’s, but remained on edge nonetheless.

“It’s Jeff, I’m here to—oh, um sorry,” the demigod spluttered as he walked into view. Kurt regarded him curiously for a split second before realizing oh right, I’m naked.

“S-sorry,” Kurt croaked, reaching for the silk blanket to cover himself.

“No, no it’s fine,” Jeff assured him, turning to give the mortal his privacy. “Um, yea, just how about you get dressed and I’ll take you back.”

“O-ok,” Kurt concurred quietly and began to dress.

The mortal didn’t speak again after that. Jeff wouldn’t push him though, obviously something ugly had went down between him and Blaine. The last thing the demigod was expecting was a call in the middle of the night from Hermes telling him that he had to leave for The Shrine of Heracles and Iolaus immediately “to retrieve Blaine’s mortal”, as per orders from Dionysus. Nevertheless, Jeff tried to imagine what could have happened between them that would cause Blaine to leave and Kurt to be reduced to the shell of a person that was currently occupying his passenger seat.

“You’re an asshole, you know that right?”

Jeff was startled from his musings by Kurt’s voice, quiet but no less acerbic than if his accusation had been screamed.

“I—uh, I beg your pardon?” Jeff stammered, unsure if he heard correctly. To him, it seemed a little strange to call the guy who found you and was currently driving you home an asshole.

“You’re an asshole,” Kurt stated simply.

“Uh, I-uh…I’m sorry?” the demigod offered.

“Ugh,” Kurt scoffed, shaking his head.

“Listen, Kurt, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be apologizing for—“

“Of course you don’t! What, is taking advantage of a bunch of compromised mortal girls like a weekly occurrence for you?”

“Wha…” Jeff trailed off as he remembered his night with Kurt’s friends back in June. “Oh, Kurt, that was a one-time thing—“

“So that makes it okay?!” the mortal exclaimed indignantly.

“No!” Jeff immediately answered as he searched for the words to explain himself. “I’ve never done anything like that, Blaine asked me and Nick to take them off of his hands for him so he could go talk to you.” For split second Kurt was flattered by the sentiment, but quickly reigned himself in once he realized the twisted logic behind it. “I haven’t done anything like that since, either. I’m sorry we took advantage of your friends Kurt, I-I wasn’t thinking—“

“OF COURSE YOU WEREN’T!” Kurt cried. “Rachel was a virgin, did you know that?! She doesn’t remember anything, but now when she gives herself to someone it isn’t really going to be real! Quinn got pregnant and had to put her baby up for adoption last year! Bet you weren’t aware of that one! And Brittany and Santana…just because they’re already kind of promiscuous doesn’t mean that their consent isn’t any less important! Of course you weren’t thinking, you never think! All you gods do is just take, take and take and TAKE and you don’t spare the smallest thought for anyone but YOURSELVES!”

Kurt had collapsed into tears at the end of his outburst, and Jeff shifted awkwardly next to him, at a loss for what to say.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “If there was something I could do to make it right, I would.”

“That’s the thing though,” Kurt sobbed, his face buried in his hands. “There isn’t.”

Another uncomfortable lull permeated the car as Jeff sped back to Athens. The demigod had resigned himself to the silence when Kurt piped up once again.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, I angered a god,” Kurt clarified. “So, what, is he going to turn me into a tree or a spider or something? Make good on his promise to turn me into his ‘pretty little doll’?”

Really, Blaine? Jeff thought to himself with a grimace after hearing the contempt in the mortal’s tone. No wonder Kurt’s a mess.

“No,” the demigod assured him. “He’s not powerful enough.”

Kurt simply nodded as he absorbed Jeff’s words and the pair didn’t speak again for the rest of the ride.

The trip back to Athens felt shorter to Kurt. He wasn’t sure if it was due to Jeff driving even faster than Blaine, or that he was lost in his own thoughts for the majority of the ride. The demigod dropped him off in front of the G.L.E.E. building with another clumsy apology and an offer that if he needed anything or felt unsafe that he could call him.

Kurt trudged up the stairs to the dorms in a semi-somnambulant state. It felt so strange after being immersed in the world of the gods for such an extended period of time to be back in an ordinary environment. It was somewhat comforting too, the more disconnected he felt from that world the better he could pretend that it wasn’t real, that tonight was just some nightmare his subconscious had concocted.

Before he could reach his room, Rachel poked her head out of the door and hailed him with stage-whisper, “Kurt!”

He turned to face her. But before he could tell her that all he wanted to do was sleep for days, the brunette joined him in the hall and bombarded him with inquiries. “How was it? Where did he take you? Wasn’t our performance just wonderful? Why didn’t you tell me that Blaine was in a singing group? The Warblers—that’s what they call themselves—are really quite good. They said they all met in school just like us! You’re so lucky to have a guy like Blaine…”

Rachel noticed that her best friend’s eyes were dull, his skin was blotchy, and his mouth was pulled into a tight line, as if he was holding back an intense bout of emotion.

“Kurt?” she asked carefully. “What’s wrong?”

Kurt was not proud that he burst into tears again, especially in front of Rachel. However, the girl wasted no time collecting him into her arms and comforting him best she could.

“Mini-Jew, I swear if you and Frumpelstiltskin are polluting our hallway with your awkward mouth-to-mouth pressing that you call kissing—“ Santana froze at the sight before her. “Training Bra! What did you do to Porcelain?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Rachel snapped. “I heard him and I just came out to ask him how his night with—“

“It’s not her fault, Santana,” Kurt vouched for his friend tearfully.

The Latina was on the verge of responding when Finn and Puck’s door opened. “Guys, the hallway at three am is not a good place to have girl talk…Kurt?”

“I’m fine, Finn,” Kurt told him. “Go back to sleep.”

“No,” Finn said, joining them in the hall. “Dude, what happened?”

“What’s going on?” Mercedes and Tina were suddenly in the hallway as well.

“Hey! Are we having a séance?” Brittany popped her head out from her and Santana’s room. “Me and Lord Tubbington did that once to talk to his long lost sister Lady Sparkleface.”

“No, Britt, it’s not that,” Santana hushed her.

“What is going on here?” All the teenagers’ turned to address Mr. Schuester. “It’s after three o’clock in the morning, why are you all out of bed?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Santana sneered. “It seems that Kurt’s greasy Greek boyfriend did some major heart-busting.”

Will’s face softened immediately as he focused in on the boy. “Kurt, is that true?”

“I…” he began, inhaling deeply to regain composure. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ugh, I always knew he was trouble,” the teacher groused.

Kurt frowned. He had been expecting Mr. Schue to go on and on about how great of a guy Blaine was and implore him to work it out with the god.

Santana seemed to share Kurt’s surprise. “Then why have you been constantly praising him to the point of us all assuming you had a flaming gay crush on him and allowed him to accompany us on every single one of our trips?”

“I…” Will was at a loss for words, as if just now he had realized his behavior for the past two months. “…I’m sorry guys, especially you, Kurt. I don’t know what came over me.”

Santana scoffed. “Seriously?”

“It’s okay,” Kurt insisted in an attempt to suppress the Latina from ‘going all Lima Heights’ on the teacher. It was obvious that Blaine’s hold on his teacher was somehow broken. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Al-alright,” Santana responded, troubled by Kurt’s resigned attitude.

“Well, you heard Kurt, let’s respect his wishes,” Mr. Schue said as he started to shoo everyone back to their respective rooms.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt,” Rachel told him, apparently now on the verge of tears herself.

“We’re here for you,” Mercedes added sincerely.

“I’m going to kick that bastard’s ass,” Finn fumed.

“Finn, don’t—“

“Why shouldn’t we?” Santana challenged. “Kurt, after all you went through this year, you above everyone else don’t deserve to be pushed around. But he did anyway, which by the way, makes him a full-fledged dick, and also qualifies him to have his pretentious, slimy ass kicked from here to Africa and back. Give me one could reason why I shouldn’t introduce him to my evil alter-ego Snixx.”

“Because we’re powerless,” Kurt informed them cryptically. He took one last look at his friends gathered in the corridor before disappearing into his room.

0-0-0

Ariadne was wrong. Things weren’t better in the morning. In fact, Blaine was pretty sure they were worse. He stayed in bed the first day, the maenads bringing him food at regular intervals and the god refusing them each and every time. He didn’t get up the next day either, rather, he spent his waking hours replaying his relationship with Kurt in his head over and over, the fight in particular. Blaine obsessed over how it could have gone differently, how it could have been worse, how it could have been better, how things would have been like if it hadn’t happened at all…

The third day Blaine left his room. He went straight for the kitchen, ignoring the maenads that instantly surrounded him and practically begged to serve him. The god retrieved two bottles of wine as well as a massive amount of cheese, and then wasn’t seen again by the estate’s residents for another two days.

When Blaine emerged for the second time, it was to collect more booze and food. One of Dionysus and Ariadne’s many children, Eurymedon, found him in the kitchen while he doing so.

“Oh, that’s a good year,” he said, commenting on Blaine’s choice of wine. The god looked at him warily, but dismissed his presence after a moment, and resumed shoveling olives into the bowl he had laid out. “Why don’t we have a glass together?”

“Fuck off, Eury,” Blaine answered him a gravelly, cautionary tone.

“Look, Blaine—“

“I mean it.”

“Just please lis—“

“I’M NOT GOING TO SHARE THE WINE WITH YOU!” he bellowed, knocking over the jar of olives, the glass shattering and the small, green fruits scattering every which way.

“We both know this isn’t about the wine,” Eurymedon said evenly.

“Oh really?!?” Blaine questioned, the sarcasm clear and impudent in his voice. “Because you sure had me fooled. Golly, you’ve really inherited Dad’s knack for acting! It’s a shame you can’t join a theatre troupe somewhere and LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”

“You’re drunk and depressed and—“

“AND WHAT?!?” Blaine demanded. Eurymedon hesitated, searching for something that would get through to his half-brother. He didn’t have a chance though when Blaine spoke again a second later.

“You know what, you little fucker? You’re right. Fuck this shit. Fuck Kurt. Fuck that fucking mortal for making me feel like this. He’s nothing. I’m over him and his stupid little gay face. I am a god, not just that, but the son of fucking Olympians.” He let out a perverse, manic laugh. “I’m a fucking sex god pining over some ungrateful dumbass mortal. Well, fuck that, I’m getting some ass tonight.”

Blaine departed for his room quickly, leaving a flabbergasted Eurymedon in his wake. The god re-appeared a half hour later, freshly shaven, hair styled, dressed in head to toe black, a predatory glint in his eye. Eury was gone. Probably tattling to Mommy and Daddy, Blaine assumed scornfully. He grabbed a set of keys for one of the several speedboats his father owned. Since Dionysus’s estate was on a private island, the only way to access it was by boat or Portal. Blaine elected for the boat, he had been cooped up for the in his room for nearly a week, he wanted to feel the wind whipping on his face as he drove to the mainland.

Forty-five minutes later, Blaine was entering Crete’s most popular club, bypassing the three city block long line to get in, gaining entry without so much as a second glance from the bouncers. He immediately hit the bar, downing enough alcohol to kill a mortal, and snorting enough cocaine in the VIP area to off another two. The god then moved to the dance floor, busying himself with collecting only the club’s most beautiful women.

It was just like old times, Blaine thought to himself gleefully, the alcohol and drugs creating a pleasant haze upon the god’s thoughts. He was surrounded by hot mortals that he was going to fuck in a little while, and he wasn’t even concerned about his ex, while Kurt was more likely than not crying over him at the moment. I hope he is, Blaine told himself, I hope he’s fucking suffering like he deserves to. Despite the lethal amount of substances in his system, the god couldn’t prevent the ache in his heart that had now begun to surface every time Blaine thought about the American, so he decided to fight fire with fire. He landed a smack on the mortal’s ass he was grinding into and announced to the ten(-ish? he had lost count) women he had under his compulsion, “WE’RE LEAVING! WE’RE LEAVING SO I CAN FUCK EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!”

The women eagerly followed him out of the club, onto the street as the god started to stumble to a nearby hotel.  They were constantly fighting each other to be under Blaine’s arm, or to be closest so they could plant kisses on his face and neck, or so they could run their hands along his torso and back, sloppily palming his crotch while they were at it.

“WE AT THE MOTEL, HOTEL, HOLIDAY INN!” Blaine sang off key as he tripped over the threshold into the hotel’s lobby, the women all giggling and helping the god right himself as he swaggered up the man behind the counter.

“I…I wanna room,” He slurred to the receptionist. “No…I wanna suite for me n’ my bitches.”

The gentleman surveyed Blaine dubiously before responding. “Okay, sir, I’ll need your name and—“

“Ugh, fuck this! This is taking too long!” the god exclaimed with exaggerated exasperation. He locked eyes with him, unleashing his power on the man, relishing the sensation of control that spread through his body as he did so, as the submission overtook the mortal’s features. “Give me the key to your best available room NOW.”

“Right away sir,” he replied, his eyes glassy and his voice dreamy. He turned his attention to the computer monitor, and Blaine passed the short while it took for him to make a key by shoving his tongue down one of his mortal’s throats.

“Here you are, sir, it’s room number 1050, our luxury suite.” Blaine pried his lips from the woman’s to take the keycard from the mortal. “You’re really attractive,” he gushed. 

“I know,” came the god’s blasé reply before being whisked away his own personal harem.

Blaine didn’t remember how he arrived to the hotel room, or even how he managed to find it in the first place, but the god wasn’t concerned about that. He was however, more concerned with the fact that he sprawled out on a massive bed with several beautiful women, all of which who were more than willing to do his every bidding, and couldn’t achieve an erection. Blaine, who had been alive for two thousand and twenty eight years, sexually active for two thousand and fourteen of them, and had never had this problem ever. He was a sex god after all, therefore Blaine figured impotence wouldn’t ever be something he’d have to worry about. Not for lack of trying of either, the women had been going at it for a solid twenty minutes now, and despite their entranced state, they were creative.

And no matter how clueless Blaine tried to delude himself into being, he knew why he couldn’t get hard. Kurt. That damn mortal had done something to him, had fucked him up.

“Get out.”

 “What?” the mortals collectively questioned from their various spots surrounding the god.

“GET OUT!” Blaine roared, leaping off the bed. The women all regarded him with vacant, bewildered expressions. “DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME?!” The god swiped the lamp off of the bedside table in his ire,
“GET OUT!”

The crash of the lamp along with Blaine’s shouts roused the girls, all ten of them shrieking and hurrying to gather their clothes and belongings to leave as fast as they could. Blaine dropped his face in his hands, desperately attempting to find some self-control and for Zeus’s sake, keep from crying again. He didn’t want to return to his father’s, but the god couldn’t stay here any longer without losing it. So after he redressed and overturned some more furniture to vent his frustration, left the hotel and began to make his way to the Marina, trying and failing to keep Kurt from his thoughts.

Is this is what it really feels like to be in love? He asked himself as he staggered down the street, his eyes downcast at his shoes. Suddenly all the angsty love songs he’d been subjected to listen to over the centuries didn’t seem so stupid anymore, all the pain and suffering he’d seen painted on countless mortals’ faces didn’t seem so foreign. Blaine hated it. He hated that he had been reduced to their level, he was a superior being by nature, and he had been so smart, he had stuck to sex for so long and why did he have to fuck everything up for a pair of doe eyes and smooth skin?

“So what, you date a teenager for a while and now all of a sudden you’re acting like one again?”

Blaine halted in his path, praying to every deity that would listen that he was hallucinating and that Eros’s voice was just in his head. Because after that the night he had, he couldn’t bear for it to get any worse.

 “I’m not going anywhere, Squirt—“

“Don’t call me that!” the god snapped, glaring at his brother.

“Ha! Made you look!” Eros cried triumphantly.

Blaine scowled, unable to believe that he actually fell for that, and more so that this was actually happening. “Ugh, I don’t even know what you’re doing here. Just…just do me a favor and turn into a baby and fly away!”

“Really, Blaine? Really?” Eros cocked an eyebrow at his request. 

“What?” Blaine demanded in reply. “I didn’t ask you to come here, so stop acting like you’re rescuing me or—“

“But I am,” the elder god cut in. “Provided that you could even find your boat, Blaine, you wouldn’t make it out of the marina without wrecking it, much less back to Dionysus’s in one piece.”

“Well, excuuuuuuse me,” Blaine mock-apologized in an affected tone, “We all don’t just conveniently have wings on our backs, so some of us actually have to use more conventional methods of transportation.”

“You’re just full of clever zingers tonight, aren’t you?” Eros asked, although the rhetorical nature of his inquiry was blatant. “Come on, I’ll take you back.”

“No!” Blaine punctuated his defiance with a stomp of his foot.

“What are you, six?” The god rolled his eyes. “Blaine, get your emotionally fucked up ass over here.”

“Fuck you, Eros!” Blaine shouted and started to walk in the opposite direction. He had to admit that it felt pretty good to tell his brother to shove it like that...

 “RAHHH!”

“HUMPH!”

…Well it did until Eros tackled him to the ground. Both sons of Aphrodite struggled to gain the upper hand, but with Blaine’s inebriated state and Eros’s height advantage, it wasn’t a very long struggle. It took Eros less than a minute to get Blaine pinned down on the ground below them.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF HADES IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Blaine yelled as he thrashed against his older brother’s hold.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you, Blaine?” Eros retaliated, his brilliant blue eyes bright with fury.

“KURT BROKE MY DICK, OKAY?”

Eros couldn’t help but laugh at that. “No, Blaine. He broke your heart.” He told his brother frankly. “And you’ve been failing spectacularly at dealing with it.”

The younger god didn’t reply, yet the way his hazel eyes filled tears was enough of a response for Eros. He released Blaine, hopped back up to a standing position and offered his hand to the deity. Blaine accepted it without quarrel and allowed himself to be pulled up.

“I still hate you,” he muttered.

“I know,” Eros brushed off the insult. “Now let’s go.”

Once they departed from the Marina, Eros was surprised that the trip back to Dionysus’s island was considerably uneventful. Blaine didn’t speak much, and if he did, it was only to voice some sort of derision to the other god.

“Hey Eros?”

He labored a breath and rolled his eyes in anticipation for the impending insult. “Yes, Blaine, I know my face looks like a shit—“

“No,” the deity spoke over him. “It’s not that.”

“Well, what is it then?” Eros had to admit that he was becoming impatient with his younger brother’s steady stream of verbal abuse, however petty and nonsensical it was.

“Why did you let me fall in love with Kurt?” Blaine asked in a small, but earnest voice.

Eros was speechless. The last thing he expected to happen was for Blaine to actually talk about the fight.  The god paused to look at Blaine properly before answering honestly, “Because you never had looked at anyone the way you looked at him, even when you two first met. Because it was fate.”

“But then why did he reject me?” Blaine said quietly, almost as if  he was posing the question to himself. He looked up at Eros. “Is this how it was fated? Was I always supposed to royally fuck it up? Is there no hope for us?”

“I…Blaine, you know I can’t tell you,” Eros reminded him, pain clearly twisting his striking features. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“That’s bullshit!” he hollered, standing. “Fuck you, Eros! I’M YOUR FUCKING BROTHER!”

“Calm down,” ordered Eros. “You’ve got to stop flying off the handle like this! This is exactly what lost you Kurt!”

Blaine didn’t acknowledge him verbally, the younger god choosing to only glower at his brother spitefully.

“You rushed him, man,” Eros told him firmly.

“So I was wrong,” Blaine whispered. He didn’t know if he could feel any more pathetic than he did in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” the older god apologized genuinely. “Your heart was in the right place.”

“Yeah, but my head was up my ass,” Blaine added with a self-deprecating, humorless chuckle. “How is it that a seventeen-year-old mortal has more wisdom than a three-thousand-year-old god?”

“Well, I don’t have to tell you that Kurt’s special,” Eros offered with a sympathetic smile.

“You don’t,” the god agreed. “And I lost him—no, I didn’t lose him, I drove him away. I sent him running for the hills…”

Eros stopped the boat, stepping away from the wheel so he could take a seat next to Blaine, to make sure he could look him clearly in the eye when he said, “Hey, look at me. That doesn’t mean you can’t get him back.”

“No, I can’t,” Blaine shook his head, choking up as he did so. “Er, I don’t want to get him back. I don’t want him to be with me…I’m abusive.”

“Blaine—“

“And he had a point!” the god ignored his brother’s attempt to speak. “I think that was what probably infuriated me the most. If we had gotten married and returned to Olympus, he wouldn’t be have been able to see his family again, or his friends, or pursue his dreams…”

“Blaine,” Eros implored. “Do you realize what you’re doing right now?”

“What?”

“You’re making his choices for him, see, this was exactly why Kurt didn’t accept your proposal!” he pointed out with conviction. “You have to give the kid some credit, and let him decide his fate for himself. You said it yourself, you may be older, but that doesn’t necessarily make you wiser.”

“Holy Hera, you’re right,” Blaine marveled, regarding his brother with wide, awestruck eyes.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he teased with a playful shove to Blaine’s shoulder. “I’m more than just a pretty face, a chiseled body, and a dead-on archer with enchanted arrows.”

“Don’t forget modest,” Blaine chimed in as Eros returned to the boat’s wheel.

The brothers spent the remainder of their journey catching up, mostly Eros relaying the various goings on of his wife and daughters’ lives to Blaine, but the younger god welcomed the distraction. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever have Eros’s happiness with a family of his own, but the god quickly dismissed the thought, seeing as there was only one person he’d ever want a family with.

Blaine helped Eros dock the boat once they had returned to the island and Eros walked Blaine to the lofty entryway of the mansion.

“Even though you were kind of a total hot mess, it was still good to see ya, bro,” Eros told him as they embraced.

“You too,” the younger god replied with a roll of his eyes.

Eros set his hands on his brother’s shoulders and gazed at him intently. “Remember what we talked about Blaine, you have to let Kurt make his choice. Even if you don’t think you have a shot in hell, you owe it to him.”

Blaine nodded solemnly. “I know.”

He watched Eros approach the boulder about thirty meters away from the house, the estate’s Portal. Even after his brother disappeared and Blaine had slipped inside to go to bed, the elder god’s words still bore a tremendous weight on him. You have to let Kurt make his choice… you owe it to him.

0-0-0

Kurt Hummel had hit a new low. He didn’t think it was possible after spending the entirety of the weekend in his bed crying. Or when Brittany had asked him if Blaine was a zombie and had bitten him, therefore the reason he had been so sullen that day in rehearsals was because he was infected with a flesh-eating disease. But this was much much worse, because Kurt Hummel was no longer cheered by retail therapy.

Earlier that morning, Kurt had been awakened by an unrelenting pounding on the door.

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled. It had been a week since the…break up with Blaine had happened, and all Kurt wanted to do was mourn his only chance at love lost in peace. He didn’t want to see anyone unless they were Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler, or Landon Carter and Jamie Sullivan.

“Get up, loser!” came Santana’s unforgiving monotone through the door. “We’re going shopping.”

Despite her usual caustic, semi-abusive manner of speech, Santana had been uncharacteristically supportive of Kurt ever since he returned from the forest. She by no means tried to conventionally comfort him, but he noticed that she seemed to become more protective of him, like when she cussed Puck out in Spanish when the mohawked teen insinuated that Kurt was being overdramatic about what had happened to him. Kurt was ninety percent sure that she’d made Puck cry.

“Thanks, Santana,” Kurt called back. “But I’m not really feeling up to it.”

“Kurt,” Mercedes’s voice now wafted through the door. “We’re not letting you spent the entire day in bed. We miss you. Don’t let Blaine have this kind of effect on you.”

“You don’t understand,” he said softly, turning over and burying his head into his pillow, now more opposed to leaving his bed than before.

He heard some scuffling and a series of harsh whispers outside before he heard someone clear their throat and Rachel proclaim, “Kurt Hummel. You realize you are currently acting like Bella Swan in New Moon, correct? I bring this up because we swore that if either one of us ever acted like Bella Swan, especially Bella Swan from New Moon, we would notify the other immediately, so as to avoid becoming emotionless, whiny wastes of space.”

Thirty seconds later, the door separating Kurt and the girls was wrenched open. He stared at his friends gathered around the doorway with a ragged, borderline deranged intensity. “No one calls me Bella Swan,” he growled, shooting a particularly murderous glare at Rachel, and the brunette shrinking under his gaze. “Give me forty minutes, I need to moisturize.”

That’s how he had ended up in this (if Kurt was being perfectly honest, rather tacky) boutique a few streets over from the G.L.E.E. building, listlessly perusing the racks. No matter how hard he tried to enjoy his time with his friends and simply appreciate the gesture, Kurt couldn’t help but compare the venture to his previous shopping trips…with Blaine. The mortal grit his teeth in frustration. He hated how everything now reminded him of the god. He hated that it felt like Blaine had taken everything away from him. He hated that he let Blaine take it from him. He hated Blaine, he hated him so—

“Excuse me?” a feminine voice behind him sounded. “Is that an Alexander McQueen skull scarf?”

Kurt instantly perked up; he wasn’t expecting anyone to comment on his outfit today. He had only worn jeans and a t-shirt (sure the jeans were Rag & Bone, and the t-shirt was special edition Topman designed by Phillip Lim) and had to throw the scarf on to add a just a touch of flair to the look. Because heartbreak be damned, Kurt Hummel would look, at the very least, presentable when he went out in public. He turned around…

Whoa. The woman behind him was hands down easily the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Kurt was overwhelmed as he scanned her striking, practically perfect features from her soft, tousled raven curls, to her luminous sunkissed skin, her vibrant sea green eyes, not to mention her impossibly high cheekbones, then her plump pink lips, and finally her long graceful column of a neck that led to a set of truly magnificent breasts. They were so round, not too big but by no means small, and so perky. Kurt just wanted to bury his face in between them and—

What the fuck?!? Since when did he check out a girl’s rack? Kurt was gay…why did he even need to remind himself of that? And why couldn’t he look away? And why was he becoming aroused?

“Um…” was all the mortal could manage at first he blinked a few times and shook his head in attempt to clear it. He looked back at the woman and realized his attempts were futile, she was still just as radiant and buxom as before. “Um, y-yeah…it is,” he stammered. When did speaking in coherent sentences become such a labor? Kurt paused to collect himself once again “I mean, yes, this is an Alexander McQueen scarf.”

The woman, seemingly unfazed, if not slightly amused by Kurt inarticulateness, simply smiled before replying, “I thought so! I love the gray and purple color combination.”

“Thanks!” Kurt chirped. “It’s new this season!”

The mortal beamed, maybe he shouldn’t have lost hope on retail therapy after all.

“I’m Anna,” the woman introduced herself, extending her hand.

“Kurt.” he lowered his line of sight and couldn’t help but sneak another look at Anna’s chest. He caught himself quicker this time though, and took her hand a little flustered. 

“Oh my God your hands are seriously like the softest things I’ve ever felt!” he exclaimed, immediately blushing at his outburst. Yeesh, and now it seems I’ve developed verbal Tourette’s.

“Thank you,” Anna responded with a small chuckle. “Yours are pretty soft, too.”

“I’ve been using duck fat twice a day religiously since I was thirteen,” Kurt told her. “But what about you?”

“Let’s just say it’s an old Greek family secret,” she told him with a mischievous grin. She dropped his grip but took a step closer to the American. “You know, for someone with such fashion savvy, I’m a little surprised you’re shopping here.”

Kurt sighed sheepishly. “It’s—um, I’m here with my friends. They don’t exactly…let’s just say there’s a bit of discrepancy in taste between me and them.”

Anna nodded, “I see. You definitely strike me as someone who would be more comfortable on Tsakalof Street.”

“Oh, trust me, I am,” he assured her.

She quirked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You’ve been?”

“Yeah, about a month ago with my—“ Kurt froze, suddenly unable to speak, unable to mention Blaine. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze.”—with my…with my ex.”

“Oh,” Anna spoke softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” he shrugged. “He was…well, calling him an asshole would kind of be an insult to assholes.”

The woman surveyed Kurt critically for a moment before she took Kurt’s hand again. “Listen, there’s a great espresso bar a couple blocks from here. Let’s ditch the polyester and chat there.”

The American knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t know much more about this woman than her name, and he shouldn’t just abandon his friends. But for some reason he couldn’t refuse, despite everything he trusted Anna.

“Oh-okay,” Kurt replied warily, yet he still allowed Anna to begin to guide him to the exit. “Can I say goodbye to my friends first?”

“Sure,” she told him, dropping his hand. “I’ll be at the door. “

Kurt found the girls clustered around a display of scarves. “Hey!”

“Kurt!” Rachel smiled and clapped her hands. “You’ve decided to join us! Okay, I need you to tell me which color scarf compliments my skin tone the best—“

“Um, actually,” he interrupted the brunette. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait, what?” Mercedes demanded.

“Yeah, I met this girl, Anna,” he explained and motioned to where she was standing by the door.

“Nice tits,” Santana remarked offhandedly, sizing up the woman in question from a distance.

“I know, right?” he concurred. The girls all traded bewildered gazes with each other, yet Kurt continued on undeterred. “We’re going to go get espressos. I have my phone so there’s no need to worry about me. See you girls later!”

With that, he promptly spun on his heel and left the trio of flabbergasted girls in his wake.

“Damn,” Mercedes swore as she dazedly watched Kurt leave the shop with Anna. “Blaine must have messed with his head more than we thought.”

Santana snorted. “You’ve got that right, sister. Since when does Kurt Hummel, self-proclaimed fairy queen of Gaytown, check out a pair of knockers? Not that he wasn’t right about—“

“Santana!” Rachel shrieked, desperate to prevent Santana from finishing her thought. “That’s enough. Obviously Kurt is dealing with his break up with Blaine in a rather…unconventional way.”

“And?” The Latina provoked. “What, did your gay dads teach you how to deal with these things in How to be a Hag 101?”

“No,” Rachel huffed. “All I’m saying is that we have to support him and…and hope the damage isn’t permanent.”

0-0-0

Anna was right, this place did make really great espressos. Kurt smiled as he sipped his coffee giddily. Anna was so great, maybe they could be best friends and go shopping together and go to the spa together and then get their hair done together...

Kurt was pulled out of his musings by the woman herself joining him at the small table he’d selected after he had received his espresso.

“So, tell me about this ex,” Anna began without preamble.

He choked on the coffee in his mouth. “I…um…it’s just I haven’t talked about this with anyone and…I’m not exactly comfortable with—“

“Don’t worry,” Anna assured him, laying her hand gently on his. “People’s love lives are sort of my specialty.”

“I guess…” Kurt struggled to reply, blushing profusely. Although Kurt felt this innate, bizarre trust in Anna, the fact remained that he knew next to nothing about her. How was he supposed to pour his heart out to a stranger when he couldn’t even bring up Blaine to his closest friends? “I guess it would help if I knew something—anything about you.”

The beauty laughed, a warm, jovial sound, and responded, “Where are my manners? Right, I’m somewhat of a beach bum since I was born in Cyprus, I love roses, and like I said before, depending on who you ask, I’m somewhat of a relationship expert.”

“That’s…cool,” Kurt replied, still hesitant about unloading his Blaine drama onto the woman. “Are you sure you want to listen to my soap opera of a summer?”

Anna flashed him the same impish smile he’d seen in the boutique. “I love a good a soap opera.”

So, throwing caution to the wind, Kurt told Anna everything. Well, not everything, he had censored the bit about Blaine being a god, but had surprised himself and hadn’t really skimped on any details regarding their sex life. Relaying the events of the past couple months had been cathartic though, and Anna had listened to intently throughout his spiel, an encouraging and sympathetic expression on her stunning features the entire time. 

Silence permeated the air after Kurt finished, the chatter of the café’s patrons and high-pitched whistle of the espresso machine amplified by the lack of conversation between the two. The teen fidgeted anxiously as he waited for Anna to speak.

“Has Blaine tried to contact you since?” she asked.

Kurt shook his head. “No.”

Anna nodded to herself. “I see.”

Another silence passed before Anna spoke once more. “And what if he did?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What if Blaine wants to talk?” she clarified.

Kurt laughed once humorlessly. “I doubt that he will. I mean, he made it pretty clear that he never wanted to see me again when he threatened to rape me and abandoned me in the woods.”

“Humor me,” Anna requested. “Hypothetically, if Blaine showed up at your door begging for forgiveness, what would you do?”

“I-I don’t know,” Kurt told her, exhaling heavily.

Anna didn’t press him any further, allowing Kurt to fully consider her query. What would he do? He couldn’t forgive Blaine for how he treated him that night in the forest, how he acted was inexcusable. If Kurt took him back, who was to say that Blaine wouldn’t actually exercise his powers on Kurt? Not to mention the fact that Blaine let his friends rape Kurt’s friends. He could never feel truly safe with Blaine after what had happened. And then there was the proposal. For some seemingly masochistic reason, Kurt wanted to finish high school, and bullies aside, at least try to enjoy his last year of glee club.  Then there was college and New York. Kurt had suffered too much and worked too hard to be a kept man for the rest of eternity. Finally, the thought of never seeing his dad again was too much to bear. Not only would he be an awful, selfish son for just leaving Burt like that, Kurt didn’t think he could handle the separation himself. The answer was clear.

“I’d take him back,” Kurt confessed, his voice barely a whisper. He paused for a moment to fully digest his response and when he did, when he realized the implications of what he had just said, the freaking out began. “I-I’d take him back! Oh my God what is wrong with me?!? I would let that evil, self-absorbed rapist back into my life. Shit, that is so fucked up! I have this whole long list of reasons of why I shouldn’t take him back, and any one of them on their own should be reason enough for me to leave him, but I can’t! There’s something inside of me…this pull in my gut that doesn’t want me to let him go no matter what…I guess it’s just because I’m so desperate, I’ve never had a boyfriend before and…why do I feel this way?”

“Hey,” Anna said softly, taking Kurt’s hand in hers now that the teen had begun to tear up. “It’s okay, you were in love with him Kurt, that’s not the sort of thing you can just turn off. So don’t beat yourself up over this, I know better than anyone else that love can be a total bitch.”

Kurt let out a sob-laugh at Anna’s words. “You do?”

“I do,” she confirmed. “I’ve been dealing with this stuff for forever.”

A hint of a grin tugged at the corner of Kurt’s lips. “Still, I’d like to think that I would kick him to the curb…but, if I was being totally honest with myself—“

“Honestly, Kurt,” Anna interjected. “I’m impressed. Blaine’s rich, handsome, and great in bed, am I right?”

Blushing, Kurt nodded.

“Believe me, I know a lot of lesser m—people than you who wouldn’t put up such a fight,” she confided in him. “It shows character.”

He sighed and took a sip of espresso. “Well, even so, I’m pretty sure I’ll never see him again.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Anna argued. “You’re a catch, Kurt, and from what you’ve told me, even though Blaine was a complete and utter douche bag, he’s still head over heels for you.”

“I just don’t want to get my hopes up,” he admitted, staring into his drink.

“A wise choice,” she commended him. “You never know what Fate has in store for you.”

“Yep,” he replied with a small, woeful smile.

“Well, Kurt, it’s been lovely,” Anna began as she started to collect her things and stand. “But I really must be going.”

“Oh, okay,” he replied, getting up as well. “It was nice to meet you, Anna, and I can’t thank you enough for listening and your advice and…everything.”

“It was no trouble at all,” she assured him, her trademark smirk making an appearance once more. “Take care, Kurt.”

“Th-thanks,” he responded a little awkwardly. “You too.”

0-0-0

She breezed out of the shop, rummaging in her bag for a moment to find her sunglasses. A couple blocks over at the marketplace, she found her boyfriend at a spices stall. Her lover was chatting with the vendor, a young, thin, scraggly thing. The girl was looking at him with a lovestruck expression, eagerly nodding and giggling at everything the man said.

She rolled her eyes and flounced over to where the exchange was happening, sidling up to the man’s side and capturing him in an ardent kiss. She knew that the girl’s face would be quite different when they pulled away, and alas, the little pest looked completely devastated.

“Hey babe,” he greeted her fondly. “You ready to go?”

“Mmhmm.”

“It was nice chatting with you,” he told the girl before the couple began to weave through the marketplace’s various vendors and patrons.

“That mortal was making eyes at you,” she remarked as soon as they were out of earshot.

He laughed boisterously. “Really, babe?”

“I don’t like anyone, especially insignificant little nothings, trying to size up what’s mine,” she scoffed.

“Well, yes, I can see how a homely teenage mortal would be such competition to the goddess of love and beauty,” said Adonis, a playful sarcasm coloring his tone.

“Oh, shut up,” Aphrodite chided, giving her lover a lighthearted shove. “I already have to share you half the year, I don’t like having to do it anymore than what’s absolutely required.”

 Adonis chuckled and pulled her into another kiss.

“So what’s the verdict on Blaine’s mortal?” he asked once they broke apart.

“I like him,” she answered as they continued to stroll. Adonis’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Aphrodite shrugged. “He’s stronger than I thought he’d be, he has a pure heart.”

“A rare quality, no doubt,” he added as the pair turned into an alley—narrow, shaded, and empty.

“Don’t I know it,” Aphrodite replied. With a quick scan of their surroundings, the two immortals vanished in a flash of light.

0-0-0

August 10th, 4 p.m. It was Kurt’s final performance today. Blaine excused himself from the wrestling match he and his brothers were having in the outdoor gymnasium, and briskly walked through the mansion’s many halls until he reached the east wing. Then he slipped into a small room, empty except for a marble column holding a wide basin in the center. Blaine approached it quickly, braced his hands on either side of the basin, and spoke in a clear voice to the black, swirling water within it, “Show me Kurt Hummel.”

The dark waters instantly glowed for a moment before revealing Kurt, dressed in a traditional Greek garb pleading with his step-brother who was dressed similarly. Behind them, he could make out Rachel in her own costume.

“Oedipus, I have not come here to mock                        
or blame you for disasters in the past.                                                                     But if you can no longer value human beings,                                                                   at least respect our lord the sun, whose light
makes all things grow, and do not put on show
pollution of this kind in such a public way,                                                               for neither earth nor light nor sacred rain
can welcome such a sight.”

The god couldn’t contain that rueful grin that graced his lips that the sight of Kurt caused. He watched in reverent awe, now more than ever convinced that the mortal was nothing less than magnificent. At first, Blaine had given Artie quite a bit of flak for not including the traditional Greek masks in their performance, but now the god couldn’t be more thankful. He was captivated by Kurt’s every expression, every line and curve that made up his angelic face. He would make a brilliant actor; he was going to dazzle Broadway, the West End, even Hollywood if he wanted to with his talents.

Although Blaine knew the story of Oedipus as well as a modern mortal would Cinderella, the myth was invigorated anew as he watched Kurt perform, unable to take his eyes off of the teen.

“Do you really think you should be doing that?”

The god startled, the waters in the basin swirling and returning to a murky darkness, the image of Kurt disappearing.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized to his father, who was currently standing in the doorway. He felt much like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, flushing slightly with embarrassment. “It—it was his class’s performance today.”

“You have to respect his privacy,” the Olympian reproached as he stepped further into the room, joining Blaine.

“I-I know,” Blaine stammered, unsure and confused. The deity hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse Dionysus since Blaine’s rather unpleasant arrival a week and a half ago, therefore Blaine found his father’s sudden appearance puzzling at the very least. “I…I—“

“You miss him,” Dionysus finished his sentence. “I understand.”

Blaine cocked an eyebrow. “You do?” he asked with disbelief.

“Where do you think I’ve been for the past ten days?” the elder god questioned his son, a trace of playfulness in his voice.

“I don’t know…” Blaine shrugged. “…Olympus, like usual?”

“Yes and no,” Dionysus responded cryptically. “The majority of time away was spent visiting the Fates.”

“Really?” Blaine replied, now much more intrigued. “Did you ask them about me?”

The Olympian nodded.

“And?” the god prompted anxiously.

“You and the boy—“

“Kurt—“

“—are a fated pair,” Dionysus told him. Blaine gasped. Even though he always knew in his heart that he and Kurt were meant to be, hearing such certain confirmation was still staggering nonetheless. His heart soared at the thought that Blaine had found his soul mate in Kurt, and simultaneously plummeted at the fact that he had treated him so cruelly.

“Yet the window on your union is closing soon,” the elder god went on. “If he does not forgive you by the time he boards his flight back to America, then I’m afraid the chance of the realization of your love will be lost forever.”

Blaine exhaled heavily. “What am I going to do?” he asked after a moment of processing Dionysus’s words. “How am I going to get him to forgive me by the end of the week?”

“Go to him,” his father advised him. “Be honest and genuine. No grand gestures of contrition or material objects. I swear on my mother’s grave Blaine, if you sing—“

“I know, I know! I’m not going to sing!” the god snapped. Dionysus eyed him warningly. “Sorry, it’s just…I don’t think a sincere apology is going to be enough, Father.”

He locked gazes with the Olympian and in an instant it occurred to him, how he would get Kurt back. Dionysus read the comprehension on his son’s face and asked him, with the utmost sobriety, “Are you completely sure?”

Blaine nodded solemnly. “That’s what true love is all about, right? Doing anything for the one who love.”

Dionysus agreed, “It is. But even so, take a day or two to truly consider what you are doing. Once it’s done Blaine, it’s irreversible.”

“I know,” the deity replied. “But he’s worth it.”

0-0-0

Kurt glanced around his dorm room disheartened. He was leaving tomorrow and even though he’d been packing since noon, he had barely made a dent in all of the clothes that needed to be stowed. He had even bought an extra suitcase as a precaution yesterday, but even with the spare luggage it seemed that it would still be a tight fit with all of his belongings. Not to mention that Burt wasn’t going to be pleased with the extra luggage fees.

He sighed and collapsed on the small space of his bed that wasn’t covered in clothes. Kurt had mixed feelings on leaving Greece. On the one hand, who would want to leave the beauty, history, and culture of Athens to return to tasteless, homophobic, painfully uneventful Lima, Ohio? For the first time in his life, Kurt had felt like an adult during his stay in the country, now soon he would be back to his parents’ rules and curfews. And then there was Blaine. Meeting and falling in love with a Greek god was the absolute last thing Kurt would have expected to happen to him this summer, and as much as he was looking forward to putting some considerable distance between him and the deity, Kurt couldn’t help but wish things had worked out differently between them. Different being you’d become Blaine’s little wifey on Olympus, he reminded himself. He supposed that the alternative, albeit heartbreakingly lonely, was better than being subjugated to an eternity of gilded isolation in the realm of the gods.

The teen shook his head, standing up to resume packing. After his heart-to-heart with Anna, Kurt had done some thinking and decided the best thing for him to do was pretend that his relationship with Blaine had never happened, reasoning that if it wasn’t real, there wouldn’t be anything for him to miss. He knew the frame of mind would take conditioning and practice, but that in the end, it would be the only way he would be able to move on.

Kurt had just returned to folding his dress shirts when he heard a knock on his door. Probably Finn, he thought with a roll of his eyes. Kurt heaved an irritated sigh and trudged over to his door, pulling it open.

“How many times do I have to tell you Finn that I do not have any room in my bags for your X-rated European tra—“

The rest of his lament was caught in his throat when Kurt saw who was at his door. It wasn’t Finn. It was Blaine.

Kurt slammed the door immediately, operating out of reflex and adrenaline rather than any coherent thought.

“Kurt!” He heard Blaine call from the other side of the wood. “Kurt, please let me in. I just want to talk, I promise. I’m not going to hurt you, I want…I want to apologize.”

The American stood motionless staring at the door, frantically racking his brain for some course of action. Maybe if he just didn’t answer and pretended he wasn’t there Blaine would go away.

“Kurt, please just hear me out,” the god persisted, his voice desperate. “Kurt.” This time Blaine sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Kurt cursed his himself for the tug on his heartstrings the sound caused him to feel. “I’m so sorry. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover the way I feel. I was so stupid, so selfish, and I inherited the world’s worst temper from my parents—and I know that isn’t an excuse—but, I wish there was some way I could make you understand how awful I feel about that night. I was a monster, you didn’t deserve that, no one deserves that, and I am so sorry I couldn’t see that at first.”

Blaine paused, as if waiting for Kurt to respond. The teen remained silent however.

“It’s—I can’t live without you,” the deity pressed on when Kurt didn’t speak. “Shit, I know that sounds so cliché, but it’s true. These past two weeks my life has been a complete hell and—“

“What’s going on?” another masculine voice spoke. It sounded like Puck.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” a second voice demanded, Kurt instantly recognized it as Finn’s. “You asshole! STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!”

Kurt threw open the door before Finn could launch himself at Blaine.

“STOP!”

The three men in the hallway froze and looked at Kurt.

“You,” the teen pointed to Blaine and inhaled deeply. He knew he should tell him to leave and never try to contact him again, yet instead Kurt found himself saying. “Get inside.”

The immortal didn’t hesitate, quickly slipping out of the hallway and across the threshold into Kurt’s dorm room.

Immediately, Finn protested. “Kurt, you’re not just going to let that scumbag—“

“Finn,” Kurt cut his step-brother off. “While I appreciate your—both of your—concern, this is between Blaine and I.”

“Alright dude,” Puck said, his hands held up in surrender while Finn glowered with dissatisfaction. “Just let us know if you need us.”

“Thank you, Noah,” he said sincerely. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Kurt shut the door, locking it for good measure in case Santana found out Blaine was on the premises, and turned to the god. Blaine appeared to be his usual dapper self, although when Kurt really looked at him, he could see the dark circles under the deity’s hazel eyes, which now that he got a good look at them, seemed to be duller as well. Blaine’s curls seemed unrulier than usual as well, and his posture revealed that he was wracked with exhaustion and tension. Nevertheless, Kurt demanded in a quiet, threatening tone, “What are you doing here?”

“I told you, I wanted to apologize,” Blaine replied earnestly.

Kurt scoffed. “That’s not just it. Don’t bullshit me Blaine, what are you really here for?”

“I…” he looked at the mortal timidly, and Kurt gave him a look that translated to ‘say it or else’. “I came to ask for your forgiveness and—“

“UGH!” Kurt griped. “I KNEW IT! I can’t believe you! You treat me like shit and then literally disappear for weeks—“

“I-I wanted to give you your space,” the god offered lamely.

“And then just when I’m beginning to move on, just when I think I can start to get over you, you show up and want me to take you back! It isn’t fair, Blaine! You can’t do this to me!”

An immeasurable amount of time passed between the pair, both of whom eyes were glistening.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine whispered. “I’ll go.”

Kurt watched the god cross the room and just as he laid his hand on the doorknob, the mortal cried out. “No!”

“No?” Blaine repeated incredulously, turning to look at Kurt.

“No,” the American whimpered, feeling every bit as pathetic and bemused as he sounded. He looked at the god helplessly. “Why do you do this to me? Why can’t I let you go?”

“Because it’s fa—“

“Blaine, I swear to every god up there, if you say the word fate my head is going to burst!” exclaimed Kurt. “Fuck fate! I wasn’t raised with those kind of beliefs, I just—can’t we focus on the here and now? Just Kurt and Blaine? No parents, no Olympus, just the two of us?”

“Of course, whatever you want,” the Greek nodded and stepped back further into the room. “I guess we should have a talk, then.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Kurt replied brusquely. He needed to sit down. Unfortunately, practically every surface of his room was covered in clothing. Moving to start ridding his bed of his daywear, he began, “Here, just let me—“

“I can help,” Blaine proposed, taking a step closer to Kurt and picking up a stack of carefully folded slacks.

“Thanks,” the mortal muttered.

“Where should I put these?” Blaine asked awkwardly.

“Anywhere,” Kurt shrugged, for once unconcerned with his clothes.

The bed only took about half a minute to clear off, and once it was free of any clothing, both men took a seat on the small cot.

“So,” Blaine started, yet unsure of where exactly to begin.

“So,” Kurt echoed, equally lost.

“About that night,” the god said, wincing as he watched Kurt tense at the mention. “I just wanted to apologize again. I obviously didn’t think about you and I realize now how stupid it was to think you’d abandon your life to come live with me. Honestly, it was just a very misguided attempt at being romantic,” he confessed. “I never intended you to feel like I wanted to—I don’t know—own you or something like that.”

“It was too much too soon,” Kurt informed him. “And I did feel like sort of a possession to you.”

“Fuck,” Blaine cursed, burying his head in his hands, “that was so not what I was going for.”

Neither of them spoke for a short while.

“I guess you’re not completely to blame,” Kurt said. “I mean, you mostly are, but I have been known to overreact and blow things out of proportion.”

“Kurt, I would have freaked out too if I was in your position,” Blaine pointed out.

“Even so,” he insisted. “We should have tried to talk.”

“Yeah,” the god agreed, again at a loss for words. “I promise I’ll never lose my temper like that again, Kurt.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, and Blaine’s face fell as Kurt frowned deeply in reaction to his pledge.

“Kurt?” he asked concernedly, yearning so badly to place his hand on the mortal’s shoulder to comfort him, but well aware it would hurt rather than help. “Kurt, what is it?”

“I can’t trust you anymore,” the teen admitted. “I can’t and even if we talk all night and you promise me the moon and the stars, I can’t Blaine.”

“Shhh, it’s okay—“’

“No, it’s not! This is another thing I hate, you always telling me what to do, how to feel, controlling me!” Kurt barked indignantly as he rose from the bed. “But more importantly, how can you threatening to rape me ever be okay?”

“It’s not,” Blaine agreed, his voice surprisingly calm. “It’s not. But Kurt, if you did give me a second chance, I can guarantee you that it will never happen again.”

“But you can’t guarantee that!” the mortal objected. “You said it yourself, you have the world’s worst temper. What happens if we fight again and you lose control?”

“It won’t if—“

“Do you know how terrified I was?” Kurt spoke over Blaine’s attempt at arguing. The Greek opened his mouth to answer, but decided against it. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, answering his own question, “Of course you don’t, you’re an all-powerful god. I was a mess, Blaine. Since that night, I’ve been having nightmares, I’ve been tense—Mr. Schue tried to pat me on the back after our performance and I nearly jumped out of my skin! How could betray me like that? Especially…” Tears began to gather in Kurt’s eyes, and his voice thickened. “Especially after what happened to me with Karofsky last fall? How did you think I felt to have you of all people treat me like he did?”

“Fuck, Kurt, I’m so sorry,” Blaine gasped, desperately trying to hold back his own tears. “There’s no excuse…but if you could give me—give us—another chance, please baby, I would never even be able to think of taking advantage of you again.”

“How, Blaine?” Kurt demanded, alight with frustration, exhaustion, and anger. “How? As long as you have your powers—“

“But I wouldn’t!” Blaine contended, raising his voice so he could be heard over Kurt.

He wasn’t making any sense. Kurt regarded him exasperatedly, “What are you saying?”

“Kurt,” he began slowly and deliberately. Blaine rose and took Kurt’s hands in his. “If you really want to give us another try, all you would have to do is say the word and I would become a mortal.”

The teen snatched his hands from the god’s defensively. “What?”

“Dionysus agreed that he would convert me to a mortal. I’d give up my powers and immortality.”

“Is that even possible?”

“It’s possible, just not very popular,” he confirmed with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Usually it’s the other way around, but seeing as—“

Kurt cut in, “Seeing as I didn’t cooperate—“

“Kurt, no,” Blaine disagreed gently. “Looking back on it, I’m happy that you didn’t accept my proposal because you were right. You have an incredible life ahead of you, and you deserve to live it. I can’t wait to see you graduate high school, and take Broadway by storm, and I want to marry you, but not right now, ten years from now, or twenty years from now, no—whenever you want to get married…if you’ll have me.”

The mortal was silent for an immeasurable amount of time. Blaine didn’t press him, although he simultaneously felt like he couldn’t breathe and that his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“I can’t ask you to do that for me,” Kurt finally said.

The god swore his heart fell to his shoes. “What? No—I’m not asking you, I’m offering to do this because I want to—“

“But, Blaine,” Kurt argued, “You don’t know what it’s like to be a mortal! You’ve never been sick or had to think about dying—“

“I’ve seen a lot more death than you have,” the deity countered.

“But have you ever been affected by it?” the American pointed out. “You’ve never lost anyone close to you, have you?”

“Well, no—“ Blaine conceded.

“And there’s a very large chance that you’ll resent me for this, you know? I mean, this isn’t something you can back out of if you get tired of it. You’re going to age Blaine, and then you’ll die and it’s inevitable,” he added. “And that could lead to a nasty, nasty break up, like on The Bachelorette—“

“I could never resent you!” the god averred vehemently. “You don’t understand that I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. Kurt, I would rather live one lifetime with you and be happy and old with wrinkles and wear adult diapers if I have to than spend the rest of eternity miserable since I can’t be with the man I love.”

There was a pause before Kurt spoke, “Diapers?”

Blaine chortled, “And dentures and bifocals and a hip replacement if necessary.”

The mortal was quiet again before he murmured, “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“I won’t,” Blaine promised. “This is my choice to make.”

“But what about Olympus?” Kurt questioned. “You said it was paradise, and—“

“And I spent over two thousand years there,” Blaine told him. “I’m good. Plus, I’d finally get a break from my parents.”

“So we’ll really be together forever?” Kurt asked in a small voice, excitement bleeding into his tone.

“Until our last breaths,” he replied confidently. “And I promise I’ll work on the whole controlling, patronizing thing, Kurt, we’ll get me like a shock collar or some—“

Blaine wasn’t able to finish however, since Kurt had launched himself into the god’s arms and smashed their lips together. Kissing Kurt again felt like the first sip of water after trekking through a desert, the first bite of food after years of starvation, the first ray of light after an endless night. Kissing Kurt again felt like coming home, it filled him with a warmth he knew he could never find anywhere else, and he never wanted it to end.

“You’re sure?” the teen panted when they reluctantly broke apart.

“One hundred million percent,” Blaine assured him, bursting with exhilaration. “You’re stuck with me.”

Kurt kissed him once again, yet this time their lips met more gently, the urgency and desperation of their reunion temporarily quelled. “I think I could live with that. Something tells me you’re going to be a very attractive grandpa.”

Blaine laughed genuinely for the first time in weeks. “I love you, Kurt Hummel.”

“I love you too, Blaine Athanasios,” he responded immediately.

They kissed again, relishing the feel of each other once more, clinging to each other tightly. Eventually, Blaine succumbed to the need to rediscover his lover’s jawline, ears, and neck. He peppered kisses and light bites thoroughly to those areas, savoring the breathy gasps they drew from Kurt’s mouth.

“Bl-Blaine,” the mortal breathed.

The deity grunted as he continued to suck a rather impressive bruise into the left side of his neck.

“Is there something wrong?”

Kurt’s inquiry instantly caused Blaine to retract his mouth from the mortal’s neck to meet his gaze. “No! Why would you think that?”

The teen blushed before answering “Because it’s just—I know it’s been a couple weeks, but I know you, and I know us and how we work, and it just feels like you’re holding back. I mean, usually, we’re naked by now, or well on our way to becoming naked.”

Now it was Blaine’s turn to redden. “I…um…” the immortal struggled to verbalize his thoughts. “I— but I threatened you…I wanted to let you initiate any sexual stuff—not that we have to do anything tonight or even for a while, but yeah, it’s like you said with the bastard ass—“

“Blaine,” Kurt said firmly. “You’re not Karofsky. Sure, you acted similar to him on one occasion, but he never amended his behavior as profoundly as you are, and more importantly, I never loved him. And while it means so much to me that you’re willing to wait, I need to know that this is real. These past weeks have been hell for me too, you have no idea…and I just need you, I need you to make love to me.”

They gazed each other for a long moment. Blaine stared at him intently, searching for something in Kurt’s eyes, he wasn’t sure what exactly, but a moment later he found it, and whispered “Okay.”

Kurt guided Blaine back onto the bed, hovering over him. “Now I’m glad we cleared this off.”

The god hummed in agreement. “Me too, “he said before sealing their lips again.

Even though Kurt had given him permission, Blaine still took things slow. He still couldn’t full wrap his mind around Kurt forgiving him, cognizant that saying he was forgiven and showing him were two different things. So in addition to resuming kissing Kurt, Blaine didn’t do anything more than simply skim his hands along the length of his lover’s sides.

Over the years, Kurt had always been likened to porcelain. Whether it was his twisted-yet-affectionate nickname from Coach Sylvester, the way his skin bruised so easily, even the cautious manner his friends had been treating him with lately, tiptoeing around his feelings so as not to shatter him. He always hated it, just because he looked delicate didn’t mean he was delicate. He was a Hummel, he was tough, and this past year had proved it. Therefore, the manner in which Blaine was caressing him—like he was made of glass—should have infuriated Kurt. But it didn’t. He didn’t feel weak, he felt treasured, he felt loved. Besides, if he was to let his guard down in front of anyone, to no longer repress the vulnerability he always kept below the surface, Blaine would be the man to reveal himself to. And so Kurt did just that, he settled his hips into the god’s laps and began to leisurely roll their groins in tandem while he began to unbutton his shirt.

“Kurt,” Blaine rasped, tugging off his own polo without missing a beat of the sensual rhythm Kurt had set with his hips.

Once they were rid of their shirts, the teen dropped to his forearms, completely covering Blaine’s body with his, needing in that moment to feel every inch of the man below him. It was like he said before, Kurt needed concrete, tactile confirmation that this was really happening, that he and Blaine were truly back together again. It had always been a wonderful impossible thought, the idea that Kurt spending the rest of his life with Blaine, and now that his dreams were becoming realized it was almost too much to take. He needed the physical to keep him grounded.

Both men were fully aroused now as they continued to grind against one another, their cocks straining in their pants. Blaine moved to lick at Kurt’s chest, but the mortal stopped him.

“No,” he breathed. “You always do that.”

“Do you not like it?” Blaine inquired with concern.

“No,” Kurt assured him. “Trust me, I love it. But I never get to do it to you, and I’d like to return the favor. You always know how to make me fall apart, but now that we’re going to do this as partners, I want to learn how to take you apart too.”

“Love, have you ever heard me during a blowjob?” Blaine questioned with an eyebrow raised. “You know very well how to reduce me to a whimpering mess.”

“But can I please do this though?” Kurt entreated.

“Of course,” the god told him, snuggling back into the bed a little, sending Kurt a smirk. “Do your worst.”

The mortal narrowed his eyes at in reply, before lowering his gaze to Blaine’s tanned, toned chest. He ran his palms up and down the taut flesh absentmindedly, waiting for inspiration to strike.

After some contemplation, an idea occurred to him. Kurt trailed his fingertips to Blaine’s right nipple, and lightly pinched the bud. The god’s breath hitched as a result and his hips jerked, actions that Kurt interpreted as indication he wasn’t failing miserably at this. He squeezed the spot again a little more assuredly, Blaine’s moan spurring him on. Next, he leaned down and swiped his tongue flat across the length of the bud. He tried to remember what he liked when Blaine did this to him as he continued his ministrations. The god kept up a steady stream of verbal and nonverbal praise, his hands finding Kurt’s ass and kneading as the mortal lavished his chest. Once he had sufficiently lapped at both nipples, Kurt continued down Blaine’s chiseled torso kissing each ripple of his six pack and dragging his tongue along its contoured lines. Tracing the planes of his lover’s abs was always something Kurt had dreamed about in his private moments, and he was a little shocked that now he was doing just that, as well as who he was doing it to. In his fantasies, the object of his attentions was always Taylor Lautner, but Blaine was so much better.

Once Kurt had finished mapping Blaine’s abdomen (for now, at least), he pressed a line of kisses along the waistband of the god’s pants, his chin bumping against the bulge tenting the fabric. The Greek made a broken, needy noise above him and Kurt acquiesced, undoing his slacks and pulling them down the length of his sturdy legs. He discarded them in a heap on the floor beside the bed and when he turned back to regard the god, who had propped himself up on his arms, looking at him with an intense smolder.

“My turn,” he rumbled. “Gods, Kurt I need you so badly.”

“You have me,” Kurt sighed in return.

They worked the teen’s shorts and underwear off before Blaine laid Kurt back onto the bed. He greedily took in the sight of Kurt nude, causing the mortal to squirm self-consciously from the attention.

“Don’t,” Blaine urged him, sliding down and settling himself between Kurt’s legs. “You’re perfect.”

The mortal didn’t a chance to argue when Blaine’s pink tongue darted out and began to lick long, slow stripes around Kurt’s manhood. He was helpless against that tongue, incapable of doing anything but surrendering to the mind-blowing, breathtaking sensations the god created. In a matter of seconds, his fingers were tangled in Blaine’s silky curls, yet another pleasant reminder that he wasn’t dreaming this all up.

Blaine didn’t tease for long, soon he had progressed to taking Kurt completely in his mouth and sucking vigorously, his lips wrapped around his lover’s cock in a tight ring of suction. He bobbed his head in a slow, tortuously steady rhythm.

“Bl—“ Kurt choked out. “I—mmm…I don’t want to—not until you’re inside…”

The god pulled off and blew gently on his slickened shaft, eliciting a full-body shiver from the teenager. “Do you have any lube?”

Kurt lifted his head off the pillow to look at Blaine with disbelief. “You don’t?”

Despite the fact that he had spent the past ten minutes deep-throating his boyfriend, Blaine blushed. “I didn’t want to presume anything when I came here today.”

“I haven’t packed my toiletries yet, there should be something we could use in my bag,” Kurt mused, starting to sit up.

Blaine’s large hand on his chest stopped him. “I’ll get it.”

Kurt collapsed back onto the bed while Blaine rose and rummaged through his bag of products. Less than a minute later, he found something suitable and returned to bed, shedding his boxer-briefs before he climbed back onto the sheets.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Blaine questioned solemnly.

Kurt locked gazes with the god and replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Yes.”

He nodded and lowered himself between Kurt’s legs once more, groaning longingly at the sight of the mortal’s pink quivering entrance.

“Olympians above, I love your hole,” he moaned. He pressed a kiss to the wrinkled opening.

“Blaine!” the mortal gasped. “Need you.”

“Alright, love,” he complied as he slicked his fingers. “Alright, I’ve got you.”

Kurt couldn’t contain his keen when he felt Blaine’s fingertip massage his opening, his breath catching as it entered him. His breathing steadily turned into labored panting as the immortal progressed from one, to two, to three fingers stretching him, occasionally nudging his prostate, and therefore causing Kurt to (not proudly) cry out.

The teen whimpered as Blaine removed his fingers from inside of him. Even with a haze of pleasure clouding his thoughts, Kurt still managed to grab the lotion before Blaine could.

“Let me,” he pleaded as he unscrewed the top.

Blaine nodded frantically, his eyes rolling back in his hand at the feel of Kurt’s hand on his arousal, coating him eagerly. It had been so long since he had been touched intimately like this, and the god allowed himself to revel in the sensation of the American’s hand on him for a few more moments before guiding his hand away and positioning himself to enter Kurt.

They exchanged a heated, adoring gaze before the god slid into him, brutally slow but unrelenting nevertheless. Kurt couldn’t help but tense up. Even though he and Blaine used to have some sort of sex daily prior to their separation, he seemed to have forgotten just how large Blaine felt inside him, how completely he could fill him.

Blaine, aware and repentant of his lover’s discomfort apart from his own pleasure, peppered the mortal’s face with feather-light kisses. He whispered, “I’m sorry, honey, I know it hurts. Just relax, remember? Just relax and tell me when.”

Kurt nodded and craned his neck up slightly, seeking Blaine’s lips. The god kissed him fervidly, trying to distract him from the initial pain, but soon enough Kurt was murmuring against his lips that he could move. The Greek rocked into him gently with long, deliberate strokes, reconnecting their mouths once more, his tongue twining with Kurt’s leisurely as he continued to plunge inside of him.

Yes, Kurt moaned internally. This was what he needed, Blaine’s thick, hot length inside of him, the ultimate proof that he wasn’t delusional. He kissed Blaine back fervently, and wrapped his legs around the god’s torso, attempting to draw him impossibly closer. Blaine understood the sign, increasing the pace of his thrusts, making sure to brush that sensitive bundle of nerves every time as he did so. Reluctantly, Kurt broke away from Blaine’s mouth as his orgasm built within him, Blaine burying his face in the crook of his neck and shoulder as he drove himself inside of Kurt, the mortal gasping and keening as he did.

All at once, Kurt’s climax consumed him in a tidal wave of scorching liquid pleasure. He cried out, digging his fingertips into the muscular planes of Blaine’s back and bearing down, shouting once more when he felt the god still, the Greek’s orgasm coating his insides with his own release.

Once Blaine had begun to soften (the god swore he had never come that long or hard) he lethargically lifted his head from Kurt’s neck to look at his beloved. Panic bordering on full on hysteria overwhelmed him when he noticed that his beloved’s eyes were moist.

“Kurt, what is it? What’s wrong? Oh fuck, you regret it, don’t you? Shit motherfucker—“

“Blaine,” he croaked, his voice rough but a watery smile on his lips. “I’m not sad. I’m crying because I’m happy. I know it’s silly but—“

“It’s not silly,” Blaine told him seriously.

“—but I’m just kind of ecstatic that you’re back in my life,” Kurt finished.

“I am too, Kurt,” the god replied, now trying to contain his own tears. “I’m so thankful that you’re giving me another chance, and I’ll never leave you again, I swear.”

“I like the sound of that,” the mortal admitted bashfully.

Blaine let out a small laugh of triumph and captured his boyfriend’s—no, soulmate’s­­—lips in an impassioned kiss. He slipped out of Kurt gently once they came up for air, the sensitivity beginning to bother him.

“So,” Kurt began once he pumped some oxygen back into his lungs. “How does this all work?”

“How does what work, love?” Blaine queried, settling beside Kurt and pulling the covers over them. He propped his head up on his arm.

“I guess I’m wondering where do we go from here?” the teen clarified.

“Ah, well, you’ll go back to the States tomorrow,” he began, “and I’ll stay here so Dionysus can work his magic, and then I’ll join you in Ohio in about a week at the earliest.”

“You’re really okay with moving to Ohio for me?”

“Kurt, I’d move to Siberia for you,” Blaine said. “Come to think of it, that could be quite enjoyable, seeing as I’d have to keep you warm almost constantly.”

The mortal rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I wonder how the change from god to mortal is going to affect your sex drive.”

Blaine frowned. “Dionysus said it’d peter off a bit,” he groused, “which is why we have to make the most of my godly libido tonight before I lose it forever.”

“Oh, do we?” the mortal questioned playfully.

“Mmhmm,” the god responded as he latched onto Kurt’s neck again.

The teen was just about to make another gloriously witty remark when a flash of blinding light consumed the room.

“For Zeus’s sake, Blaine, I know how jazzed you are about being able to get it up again, but we have some things to discuss before you lovebirds go for Round Two.”

Kurt couldn’t believe his eyes; it was Anna. Anna was in his dorm room. Yet instead of the sea foam blue sundress she was wearing the last time they met, the beauty was dressed in what the mortal assumed to be the female variety of a chiton, her raven curls were now pinned back, a wreath laurels resting on the crown of her head just like Blaine wore when he visited Olympus.

“Anna?”

“Mother!”

“Mother?” Kurt exclaimed. He looked from Blaine to Anna, Anna to Blaine. Then it dawned on him, the dark curls, the perfect bone structure, the full lips, not to mention the ability to appear at will…“You’re Aphrodite.”

“Guilty as charged,” she smirked. “Beautiful and smart, I never thought that you’d have such good taste in men, Blaine.”

Blaine scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Mother? As you can see, Kurt and I are a bit preoccupied.”

It was then when Kurt realized that he was naked save for a sheet and blanket in front of the goddess of love and beauty. Blushing to his roots, he attempted to discretely cover more of himself with the blanket, yet the action came across as frantic and a little prudish considering his company.

“Yes, well, what I have to say won’t take very long,” Aphrodite informed them. “Now, as endearing as your little reunion was, I feel compelled to offer some motherly advice—“ Blaine snorted boorishly at her use of the term “—and advise against what you two are doing. Trust me, I get it, you’re young and in love, but you don’t want to age, and death is awful. Even if you two end up in the Elysian Fields, it’s so boring there.”

Although he knew it to be impossible, Blaine was fairly sure his heart had stopped beating. Where was Aphrodite going with this? Was she going to try to force Kurt to convert to a god? Or worse, what if she forbade his relationship with Kurt altogether?

“While we appreciate your counsel,” the god began cautiously, painfully aware of how fine a line he was treading, “we’ve decided on mortality. I don’t want Kurt to being coerced into living on Olympus, and this is the most feasible solution.”

“Stubborn as an ass,” Aphrodite muttered. She looked at Kurt, “Just like me. He inherited more than just my good looks, you know.”

Kurt, reacting out of a combination of confusion and cold-blooded fear, tried to chuckle awkwardly along with the Olympian.

“So you’re really going to choose a transient life filled mostly with suffering and pain over your privilege and immortality for a mortal boy?” Aphrodite questioned Blaine frankly.

“Yes,” he told her resolutely, his voice not betraying the dread behind his answer.

“Well then I’m afraid I don’t have any other choice…”

Blaine inhaled deeply and held his breath, his mind summoning hundreds of possible things his mother could say, all of which resulting in heartbreak and agony.

“…I’m going to have to wait to turn Kurt after all.”

“I…” Blaine was at a loss for words. “…what?”

“Kurt and I chatted earlier this week,” the goddess explained. Her statement alone was grounds enough to make Blaine livid, Aphrodite meddling in his love life was terrifying enough, and her spending time alone with his precious Kurt was probably the manifestation of his worst nightmare, but Blaine was too shocked by his mother had said to get properly angry. “And I like him—“ Blaine’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Aphrodite did not like anyone, she barely liked Adonis enough to tolerate him half the year, and he was her most cherished lover, “—therefore, I don’t like the idea of the two of you, mostly him, dying. That’s why I’ll let you two play mortal for the next seventy years or so, but when Kurt ‘dies’, or so to speak, I’ll convert him to a god. You’ll pass the second he does and I’ll restore your divinity as well and you two can live happily ever on Olympus.”

If he wasn’t already lying down, Blaine was positive he would have collapsed. Overwhelmed with the desire to cry, scream, and run in circles simultaneously, the god instead opted to whisper in a reverent tone, “Mother…I can’t—thank you. I can’t thank you enough for—your generosity is humbling.”

 “Don’t act so surprised Blaine,” Aphrodite admonished him with a lighthearted roll of her eyes. She regarded Kurt again, “Seriously, you curse a girl to lust after her father and suddenly you’re a ‘bad person’.”

The mortal didn’t have the faintest idea how to react, but luckily he didn’t have to since Blaine spoke once more.

“Mother, do we—I, do I owe you anything for this charity?” he stammered, his tone still incredulous.

“Just take of him,” she answered, nodding to Kurt. “He has a pure heart and impeccable taste in fashion, he’s too good for you.”

“Well that I already knew,” Blaine admitted as he sent the teen a look of unbridled adulation. “From the bottom of my heart Mother, thank you.”

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” she snarked, although there was her tone was free of malice for once. “Best of luck to you, Kurt. I’m sure by now you’ve learned he’s a handful.”

And with a wink and another flash of light, Aphrodite was gone.

A stunned silence transpired between the two of them.

“Well,” Kurt began, his voice surprisingly calm. “Talk about Deus ex Machina.”

Chuckling slightly at his own joke, the mortal looked over to Blaine, who seemed to be on the verge of bursting out of his skin.

“Oh my gods,” Blaine marveled. “OH MY GODS!” He laughed jovially (and if Kurt was being brutally honest, kind of manically as well). “KURT!”

“Yes, yes, I’m right here,” the teen deadpanned. “No need to shout.”

Blaine laughed once more and pulled his lover into his arms, attacking his face with kisses. “Kurt, I don’t think you understand! Aphrodite was nice! She’s never nice! To anyone! Oh honey, this is fucking FANTASTIC!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Kurt grinned widely. He allowed Blaine to plunder his mouth with his tongue in his excitement, giggling at the feel of the god’s hardness pressing into his hip and separating their lips. “Round Two, then?”

“Only if you want to,” the Greek murmured into the already thoroughly ravished skin of his neck.

“Well, I mean, I’m a little disturbed how quickly this erm, popped up, seeing as your mother left barely five minutes ago,” he teased.

“Psh, you know I’m easily excited,” Blaine contended, not stopping his assault on Kurt’s neck. “And I have every right to be excited, seeing as I was just told that I am literally going to spend eternity with you.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Kurt conceded with a demure bat of his eyelashes.

The god hesitated. “Kurt, is everything okay? You seem kind of…I don’t know, you don’t seem very enthused about all of this. Do you…is this not what you want?”

“No!” Kurt answered immediately, giving Blaine’s biceps a reassuring squeeze. “Not at all, I’m just a little emotionally exhausted from these past two weeks, and regular exhausted for that matter, not to mention I think I’m in shock.”

The god chuckled in relief.

“Blaine, in all honestly, I’m thrilled,” he told him, his blue eyes boring into Blaine’s hazel ones. “I didn’t want to have to say goodbye to you.”

Blaine beamed at his love, kissing him chastely. “And now you’ll never have to.”