Benediction

It isn’t until a week after the engagement that they’re truly given a chance to be alone together.  Blaine comes to visit for the weekend, unable to keep away, and the girls miraculously agree to clear out for the first night of his stay.  (Kurt thinks he hears Santana whisper something to Blaine about a promise to fill her in on the details, and her wink just before the door closes behind them isn’t reassuring.)

It’s been a lot; Kurt’s return to emotional vulnerability upon Blaine’s proposal was sudden and unstoppable and if he’s honest, probably inevitable as well.  As much as it ached being away from Blaine this past week, Kurt needed it.  He needed the time to think, to process, to steady his footing on this new and familiar ground.

So when he feels the press of Blaine’s warm body behind his, the intimate slide of arms around his waist, he doesn’t let himself sink into it.  Instead, he turns around.

“I need to talk to you,” he tells his fiancé, the words sounding more confident than Kurt feels.   “I need to be honest.”

Blaine’s face falls in increments.  “You’re… you’re having second thoughts…”

“God no,” Kurt tells him, reaching quickly to squeeze his hand.  “No, honey, but… I am having thoughts.  Can we?” he gestures to the table where their mugs still rest, half full from the coffee they had shared with the girls.  Kurt sits without waiting for an answer, wrapping his hands tightly around the familiar ceramic even though it’s cold and it’s springtime and there’s no chance in hell of Kurt drinking coffee at that temperature.

Blaine takes the seat across from him, more relaxed now and fully attentive, and waits.

“I know we’ve talked to death about your infidelity…” he pauses after the word, shooting nervous glances at Blaine’s face, which registers no change “but I… I haven’t told you how it made me feel.”

Kurt fidgets nervously in his seat, lifting the mug to his lips before remembering and purposely setting it aside with a shudder.  Now that they’re here, he’s not sure where to start.

“You remember when I told you about that sex talk my father gave me?”

Blaine smiles at that, genuine and open.  It’s a comfort.  “The ‘you matter’ speech?  Of course I do!  That was my fault, remember?”

Kurt smiles too, just a little, and nods.  “It’s… that meant something to me, what he said.  It fit.  Sex to me is just… irrevocably tied to love.  It’s not something I can just give easily.  That’s why I couldn’t sleep with Adam.”

He feels his face heat, feels Blaine’s fingers curl around his hand in a way that reminds Kurt that Blaine knows this, has always understood it.  And that’s partly what had made it hurt so badly.

Kurt swallows hard, because this next part is the most difficult, maybe.

“When we… made love, for the first time… it felt like that.  Like it mattered.  Like I was yours, and you were mine, and that was… safe.”  He falters.  He can feel Blaine’s eyes boring into his face, willing him to look, but he can’t.  There’s so much welling up inside him, the pressure of revealing this much that simultaneously makes him want to run and makes him hate himself, because why has talking about his feelings always been so hard?  It’s obviously no challenge for Blaine, with his charm and his perfect speeches and the love in his eyes that brought Kurt to feeling this again when he tried so desperately to avoid it.

He can’t look.

“I know virginity is a stupid thing, that it doesn’t really matter.  It wouldn’t have mattered, if there had been someone else for you before me.  But just… there was something about it.  About knowing that I was the only one who got to see you that way and touch you that way…”

Kurt’s head jolts up unbidden at Blaine’s sharp intake of breath; he can feel Blaine’s hand tightening around his and there are tears in his eyes.  He opens his mouth to speak, but Kurt cuts him off.  Now that he’s started this, he has to finish it.

“It made me sick.  It still does, when I think about it.  It’s like you’d given me something precious, and it… we… we were so special, Blaine, so much of everything I had always wanted and never thought I’d have, and you just threw it back in my face!”

Blaine knew.  Blaine knew how Kurt had always been alone, too different to be wanted, too much apart from all the rest.  He knew how badly Kurt had always wanted something—someone—just for him.  He knew that he was that someone for Kurt.

“You are special, Kurt,” Blaine says, his voice pleading and eyes imploring, so sincere.

Kurt wants to scream in his face, but he bites it back.  He has always hated playing victim to his own emotions.  Instead he withdraws, arms curling around himself as he leans back in his chair and has to force himself not to look away.

“I know it’s different for you.  Sex, I mean.  It’s okay.” 

It’s not.

Blaine looks floored and uncertain, and something vindictive in Kurt delights at leaving him completely at a loss.

“It is different,” he says eventually, and Kurt can feel his heart begin to break.  “But it’s not… it’s… Kurt…”

Blaine sighs, clearly frustrated, mussing his gel with nervous hands in a familiar way that Kurt usually loves, in circumstances that are not this one.

“Kurt,” he starts again.  “You are special.  Special like that.  It’s like… like a piece of that apple pie gum, compared to a slice of the real thing.  Sure, some of the flavors are the same, but they’re fake.  Apple pie is warm and textured and filling, and just… superior in every way.  Especially with ice cream.”  Kurt is well aware of Blaine’s hatred of apple pie gum.  When Blaine doesn’t like something, he has a tendency to rant.

He offers Blaine a small smile and uncurls himself.  “Am I the kind with the ice cream?”

Blaine looks relieved and smiles back, nodding.  “Homemade with the very finest vanilla bean.”

His smile breaks, and he reaches across the table to find Kurt’s hand again, this time threading their fingers together.  “You’re right that sex is not as much of a big deal to me.  If I hadn’t met you when I did, I’d probably be pretty casual about it.  I just… it feels good and why not, as long as it’s not hurting anybody?  That’s just how I feel.”  He shrugs, then looks pointedly in Kurt’s eyes.  “But Kurt… that doesn’t mean that sex with you isn’t a big deal.  It doesn’t mean that I don’t feel like we belong.  You’re the one I’m always looking for, right?  In every lifetime.”

Kurt melts at the love in Blaine’s eyes, so beseeching, and the verbal reminder of all this man is to him.  He can feel moisture brimming in his own eyes, and furiously tries to blink it away.

“I’m sorry I violated what we share, Kurt.  More than you can imagine.  I know I’ve apologized before, and we said not again, but this feels different because I didn’t… I didn’t realize.  And I should have.  And I’m sorry for that, too.”

Kurt nods and tugs at Blaine’s arm, because this is the best he could hope for and he’s ready to be closer now, just wants this to be over.  But apparently, Blaine isn’t finished.

“Is that what last week was about?” he asks, thumb smoothing over Kurt’s skin.

Another nod, and Blaine’s face falls again.

“You know, don’t you, that I don’t want anyone else?  Not without you, and not in addition to you, and not ever again.  I didn’t even want Eli, not really.  I just want you and what we have together.  I am yours, completely and gladly, sexually and in ways that go far deeper… Kurt…”

Kurt is crying now in earnest, he can feel it and it’s embarrassing, crying over something like this.  He’s never cried before when he was happy.  At least not until last week.

“Why is it you can do this to me, Blaine?” he asks with a smile.  It’s a real one this time, and it feels right.

“Because you’re mine,” Blaine responds instantly, looking entirely too pleased with himself in a way that Kurt will forever find endearing.

Kurt finds himself standing, throwing himself onto Blaine’s lap and not even caring that his vintage flea market chair teeters and creeks as his body is wedged between it and the table.  “I’m ready now,” he says wholeheartedly, kissing Blaine’s ear and then his lips.  “You can take me to bed.”

Contrary to his statement, it’s Kurt that leads Blaine the bedroom, pulling him along with hands and lips and that wonderful, comfortable feeling of safety—of wanting and needing to give himself over—that has been absent from his life for far too long.

“Lay down,” he tells Blaine, his voice barely audible but perfect for just the two of them.  It’s a request, not a command, but Blaine obeys immediately nevertheless, his hazel eyes sparkling and never leaving Kurt’s.

It’s been a long time, too long, since they’ve been together like this: weeks, probably, before Kurt left for New York.  It’s not a preference that Blaine usually bottoms; it just tends to happen that way.  When Kurt bottoms, it always feels like this—softer, more intense, heavy with meaning.  It always means something between the two of them, but like this Kurt has to be in a certain mindset that can’t be forced.  He’s there now, and it feels like coming home.

Kurt’s shaking as he begins to pull off his sweater.   No matter what, there’s always a spark of nerves for him at the thought of exposure.  But Blaine’s eyes are there, following his every move, shining with so much adoration and acceptance, and then there’s his ring.  It’s snug and new and right around his finger, but he feels it tight around his heart.

He doesn’t make much of a show of it.  He may be a performer, but this is the farthest thing from an act.  Blaine’s gaze is full of heat, anyway, and Kurt watches him palm himself as he peels off a sock and feels so eager, so ready to go to him.

So he does.

Kurt crawls slowly onto the bed and together they start on Blaine’s clothes, but Blaine gets distracted, pawing at Kurt’s body until Kurt laughs at how ridiculous he is and gives in.

“What is it, Blaine?  What do you want?”

Kurt is kneeling while Blaine’s still lying down, and when he peers up at Kurt through thick black lashes Kurt doesn’t need an answer, and suddenly it’s all he wants, too.

“Yes,” he breathes, motioning his fiancé to sit up while he straddles his still-clothed chest.  Cock in hand, Kurt’s breath shutters as he rocks forward, hips quaking with the effort of restraint.  This is wet and heat, tight and yielding, every good thing he remembers, and mostly how Blaine’s lips look pink and stretched around him. 

“God, Blaine, I forgot how pretty you look when you’re taking it like this.”  And Blaine’s just going to have to live with his gel being sacrificed, because Kurt can’t not fist hard into his hair while Blaine expertly works him over with his mouth.

Blaine moans around him, and Kurt knows that Blaine loves this but he knows that it’s deliberate, too.  A few more thrusts and it’s all he can do not to lose it, and that’s not what he wants, not tonight, so he reluctantly pulls back.  Blaine pouts, his lips slick and swollen, and Kurt leans down to kiss him in compensation.

“It’s too soon, and you’re wearing too many clothes,” he points out once his breathing has evened.

“I can fix that,” Blaine promises with an eagerness that so easily defines him, and Kurt is so taken by a sudden rush of affection that he laughs.

“What?” Blaine asks, pretending to be offended.

“You,” Kurt answers in mock annoyance, pushing away from him.  “Do it, then.”

While Blaine makes quick work of his clothes (he always keeps his promises, Kurt reminds himself, looking fondly at his ring,) Kurt digs around in his nightstand for supplies.  There’s an unopened box of condoms there, too, and Kurt stares at it for a moment before pushing the drawer shut.  Maybe he’ll give them to Rachel; otherwise they’ll never get used.

Placing the bottles neatly beside his pillow, Kurt stretches out on his stomach with his head resting on folded arms and waits.

It’s not long before Blaine has untangled his boxers from where they somehow got caught on his foot, and he turns to Kurt with a knowing look.  Kurt sighs softly when Blaine leans down to kiss him, hand gentle on Kurt’s back.  Pulling away, he settles himself on Kurt’s ass and reaches for the first bottle.

Hands, warm and slick, slide across Kurt’s shoulders; knuckles press relief into his muscles; fingertips trail lightly down his spine.  It’s been a long time, too long, and Kurt feels free.

“This is one of my favorite things, you know?  One of the things I missed the most...” 

Blaine’s voice, too, is a caress for Kurt to sink into, and he doesn’t have to answer.

Blaine takes his time, eventually moving on to arms and hands and legs and feet, sometimes kissing Kurt with lips and lashes as he goes.  When he’s touched every inch of the backside of Kurt’s body, he fits himself over Kurt, fingers tangled and half-hard cock nestled between Kurt’s cheeks and his face pressed against Kurt’s shoulder.  Together, they breathe.

After a time, Blaine whispers “how do you…”

“Like this,” Kurt finds his voice.  “Please, just like this.”

“Okay.”  Blaine tilts his face to kiss him, the barest brush of their lips.  “I’ll have to…” his hips move, and it’s not arousing, really, not yet, but Kurt treasures the heat of him, the feeling of Blaine growing heavy against his skin.

Kurt whines when Blaine has to shift away, but after a few moments his hand is there, splayed across Kurt’s back, and slick fingers are sliding down his crack, stroking reverently where Blaine will join them.  Just when it becomes a tease a fingertip circles, probing and pressing until it sinks inside.

It’s been a long time, too long, and Kurt can’t help but push back, demand more, Blaine’s finger buried to the hilt.

“Relax,” Blaine says, and he feels lips against his shoulder.  “Let me take care of you.”

Kurt does, and he tries, and Blaine stretches him carefully and perfectly and it feels so good, but not too good.  Kurt knows the ways that Blaine is deliberate; he knows that Blaine wants him to wait to fall apart around his cock.

One brush of fingers where it feels the best—a promise—and Blaine withdraws.

The interim isn’t long, and the deep, probing way Blaine kisses Kurt more than makes up for it.  Kurt is breathless, and Blaine is inching inside.

With every stutter of his fiancé’s hips, Kurt gives himself over.

This is so many things—love and sex and dancing—Kurt’s body is finally singing again and he’s not alone.  It feels like an ending and a beginning, like completion, like forever.  Kurt closes his eyes and he can almost see it, see their lives together cycling and it never ends, the song goes on…

Blaine’s hands are woven in his where they fist the sheets, skin and the tickle of hair slide sweat-slick against Kurt’s own, lips brush and bite and claim his back and neck and shoulders.  Lost to the melody, Kurt struggles to find his voice.

“Blaine.”  The only word he knows.  Blaine is the prayer; Blaine is the answer.

Blaine’s arm leaves his and twines under his body where it curves up, and then Blaine is touching him, his stomach and balls and cock, and Kurt feels strung out, ready.  It’s been a long time, too long, and Kurt’s ready to begin this, here with Blaine.

They are dancing faster; the music swells until finally, achingly, the world explodes into bursts of sound and light.

They fall, exhausted.  Together, they breathe.  The music plays on, softer, and Kurt knows now that he’ll hear it for all eternity, if he can only remember to listen.

“Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m never saying goodbye to you.”

Blaine smiles at him, his heart in his eyes, and lifts Kurt’s hand to kiss his ring.  “I know, Kurt.  A part of me has always known.”

It’s been a long time, too long, but in the very depths of his heart, Kurt believes.