Ohio-born Kurt Hummel fell in love with theater and fashion at a young age. Not long after, he fell in love with New York City.

From far away he would dream of neon lights and towering buildings, a constant rush and opportunities at every corner. Opportunities leading to an audience clinging to his every word and even the tiniest of movements, or to an acceptance speech for his original designs. Opportunities to succeed on The Great White Way.

And long before he ever dared say it aloud, he dreamed of the opportunity to find another boy who liked boys as much as he liked boys.

With a lot of hard work and determination bolstered by too many years in a small-minded small town, by eighteen, Kurt was a fulltime New Yorker.

He met a few boys who liked boys just like he liked boys, but the first time he fell in love in New York City was nothing like he expected.

:: ::

It was a completely unremarkable Thursday in late fall not long after the second anniversary of his leaving home when Kurt discovered a purpose for his heart to beat.

He'd been wandering. No classes nor work to stress over, no roommates to keep him company, he headed over the bridge with a sketchbook and every intention of reminding himself why he loves this city so much.

Jaded has never been the word to describe him, however the shine of the city swiftly wore off with his time consumed so heavily with assignments and bills and commuting. Rarely does he have the chance to breathe in the sights that invigorate him. So when does, he takes full advantage. Promises himself to journey to places he's never been in case he never gets the chance again.

Always in possession of an appreciation for beauty, Kurt stopped short where he'd been ambling around the Lower East Side to marvel at an ornate storefront.

He pulled his sketchbook from the bag slung over his shoulder and the pencil from his ear. He'd made the choice to pursue acting, but art was still his favorite hobby. He opened the book filled with randomly inspired, sometimes half-drawn impressions of everything from people to buildings to shrubs to cars to fences to fashion to doodles and displaced designs that caught his eye. He moved closer to the window where a glowing sign read: TATTOOS. Beneath the window was a gorgeously decorated ledge made with pieces of colored glass in swirling designs made to look like fire from the mouth of a dragon.

Kurt was crouched down engrossed in his art when a voice broke through his concentration.

“That's a hell of a sketch, kid.”

A bit startled, Kurt looked up to see a dark-skinned, multicolor-haired woman wearing both a smirk and a cigarette on her lips, and looking the epitome of badass.

“You coming inside?” As she flicked away the butt and crushed it under the weight of her boot-clad heel, Kurt wondered just how long she'd been watching him, cursing himself for not being more aware of his surroundings.

“Well?”

Kurt shook his head and held up his book before placing it back inside his bag. “No, I was just a bit mesmerized by this design.”

“Oh yeah? It's pretty sweet huh? Why don't you come inside, show me some more of that art. Maybe I can convince you to pretty up that skin.” Feeling particularly adventurous, Kurt followed the woman inside.

And that was the start of a very long love affair with skin and ink and needles.

:: ::

Kurt soon learned the woman's name was Jenn – “With two N's. Get it right” – and just as soon found himself facing away from her while she gave him his first taste of what would become an obsession.

Kurt's first tattoo was of a blackbird. Following a conversation about what led him to New York and one about his father, Jenn drew a little something to help persuade him to get inked.

He left the shop with a slightly sore shoulder and a mind buzzing with ideas.

Over the next couple years, Kurt returned to Jenn and her merry band of rough-looking softies many a time, and during an appointment following yet another failed audition, Jenn offered him yet another chance to apprentice with her. And finally, he accepted, admitting his enthusiasm for the art.

On that day he accepted, he was walking toward his the subway when a tiny girl with a noticeably fabulous pixie haircut stepped into his path.

“Hi, I'm Nikki!” she exclaimed.

“Hello,” he returned, cautiously amused.

“I'm making a video –”

“I don't do porn, thanks,” he said, walking away.

“Well you've certainly got the ass for it,” she acknowledged, following closely behind with quick steps. “But that's actually not what my film is about.”

He relented and stopped moving when she pulled gently at his arm. “What is your film about, then, Darling Nikki?”

“Kissing. Particularly first kisses.”

“Mine sucked.”

“Well, I'm offering a bit of a redo.”

“I don't mean to be rude, but you're really not my type.”

“Oh, not me. If you agree,” she pulled a faintly battered business card from her back pocket and handed it to Kurt, “you should be at this location, Saturday at noon. You'll be asked to kiss someone. Someone you've never met, and it will be filmed.”

“And you're committed to the lie about this not being porn?” he laughed.

“It's not like that at all, I promise. Well, maybe it is. I mean, it's not, but you do have to consent. Like in porn. Oh my god, I sound like an idiot. Please do this. It's the best idea I've had so far this semester and all my other classmates are like making Schindler's List and depressing Oscars material and I'm like the class clown, only no one likes me, at least not in my department, and wow. I'm sorry. Everyone one else I've talked to has been easy breezy. Probably because I stuck a little closer to the script. No one's asked about porn. I promise you'll be in and out in like a couple hours tops and it will be totally professional. You'd look so great on camera. And I do actually need to know if you'll be there because we like totally need a head count. So…?”

Kurt considered his upcoming weekend and between the options of cuddling with his boyfriend pillow and what essentially amounts to an actual acting job, his choice seemed obvious, “I'll be there.”

:: ::

By the time Saturday arrived, and he was in a room full of strangers, one of whom would soon taste his favorite flavor of gum, his adventurous side was nowhere to be found. Nikki and her partner, Lucas, broke down the project and asked for minimal interactions between their volunteers, but encouraged use of cell phones, tablets, anything they had on them to keep themselves preoccupied.

Nikki and Lucas thanked everyone for coming, then gathered the consent forms everyone had signed and disappeared into another room with promises to call in the first pair within the next few minutes.

While most readily extracted their phones and other devices from various places, Kurt took a glance around the room, noting the men in particular, then pulled out his sketchbook. Jenn told him to pull together the best of his material into a portfolio and Kurt had been inspired by the new direction in his life to create and create and create.

He missed the first time his name was called, he realized, when Nikki laughed sweetly and said, “C'mon Kurt, you too!” He hadn't noticed the name that had been called alongside his, nor the man that answered to it. He looked up and saw all eyes on him and shoved his book inside his bag, slinging the bag over his shoulder on the way into the other room.

He hastily set aside his bag and moved to the center of the room where the stranger stood.

“Kurt, this is Blaine.”

Kurt finally looked at the man before him. The man with gray sprinkled throughout his slicked back hair, who couldn't be much older than forty. The man with stubble and glasses that made him look far too handsome for Kurt to think clearly.

“Hi,” Blaine said, extending a hand.

Kurt shook the hand and blushed –well that's fucking embarrassing – muttering a short greeting in return.

“Okay! Whenever you're ready guys,” Nikki coaxed.

Kurt found himself staring at this man – Blaine – again, admiring the softness of his smile and the amiable sparkle in the man's eyes. He felt suddenly a million degrees hotter and practically flung himself free of his sweater and tossed it by his bag, apologizing as he did so and straightening out his t-shirt.

When he turned back to face Blaine, he noticed the man's eyes trailing up and down his arms where Jenn's work lay scattered among his freckles. His pulse quickened and goosebumps rose where Blaine's curious fingers trailed over his skin. Their eyes met and then Blaine looked away guiltily, starting to pull away.

Kurt reached out with a clumsy hand to hold Blaine in place, feeling a little overwhelmed with lust for this stranger.

Blaine leaned in, his scruff scratching at Kurt's neck. Kurt's eyes slipped closed and with shallow breath waited for Blaine's lips to meet his. He felt Blaine pull back, missed the scratch before it was even gone and chased the warmth of Blaine's body. And then he was being kissed.

Blaine's hands gripped him tight around his hips and Kurt groaned into Blaine's mouth, his own arms slipping around Blaine's shoulders, fingers setting into Blaine's hair. His skin stung beneath Blaine's attentive hands where his newest tattoo was fresh and healing, but the burn of Blaine's beard was distractingly delicious enough to pull focus.

Their deep, sensual kisses petered off, and Kurt could feel Blaine's clutch easing up. He unthreaded his fingers from the stranger's hair. They broke apart gradually, heads resting against one another, breathing heavily and gulping to swallow.

“That was great guys! Thank you so much for participating. You're part is done, but we have your numbers if we need to be in touch. Just thank you, again, I really appreciate it!”

Kurt licked his swelling lips and went off to grab his things. He walked through the room less full than he'd realized when his name was called and headed out in a daze.

“Kurt, wait!” he heard from a breathless voice just as he turned a corner. He spun around and saw Blaine, hair all mussed and glasses askew, smiling brightly.

“There you are.”