rockinhamburger: (Oh Kurt!)
[personal profile] rockinhamburger

Title: Palpation
Author: [ profile] rockinhamburger
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: Roughly 10,500.
Warnings: AU from mid-S1 and on.
Summary: Kurt Hummel was not meant for community college. Blaine Anderson was the undeniable silver lining.
Author's Note: My offering for the [ profile] klainebigbang. The date has arrived, so it's time to unleash this little monster!

I'd like to thank and give credit to my truly amazing beta-reader, [ profile] caroline_shea. Thank you for the editing work, darling, and for convincing me that this wasn't terrible!

I would also like to bring your attention to the artist I was paired with for this very awesome challenge, [ profile] xxxmirai. The work you created for this story is so lovely; please check it out and leave her feedback.

And if you're about to read this, thank you as well!

[ profile] xxxmirai's Master Art Post

Palpation: Assessment through touch.


Kurt Hummel was not meant for community college.

Kurt Hummel was meant for fabulous cityscapes with glorious night skies and pretty boys who wouldn’t sneer at his fashion endeavours but would do a double take and ask him out; take him to dinner.

Kurt Hummel was not meant for community college in Lima, Ohio.

In truth, Kurt had long fantasized about New York, or San Francisco. He’d had plans after high school of living a life without homophobia and utter boredom, but certain circumstances had left him with no alternative.

And so it was that Kurt Hummel, with no alternative, grudgingly made his way through the admissions building of the community college he would be attending for the next two years. As he scanned his schedule and classes for the day, Kurt very much wondered where in the world the Hall building was.

As he exited the Admissions building, Kurt could see a student dressed in a red cardigan and black skinny jeans heading up the stairs in his direction. He had dark, curly hair and one of the nicest faces Kurt had ever laid eyes on.

“Excuse me,” Kurt said breathlessly, inexplicably nervous. The kid looked curiously over, and Kurt continued, “Could I ask you a question?”

The kid gave Kurt what looked like an effortless grin and said, “Sure. My name’s Blaine.” He held his hand out, and Kurt took it, marvelling at its warmth.

“I’m Kurt,” he said, still embarrassingly out of breath. “I—I’m a little lost. Do you happen to know where the Hall building is?”

Blaine grinned. “You’re in luck! I know a shortcut.” And with that, he pulled on the hand he was still holding on to, changing his grasp slightly, and began to lead Kurt across the freshly-cut grass to a cluster of buildings.

Kurt spent the short walk memorizing the feel of this mysterious Blaine’s hand in his own. He could count on that hand the number of times a boy had voluntarily touched him since childhood.

“Here we are.” Blaine stopped short and turned abruptly, suddenly very much in Kurt’s personal space. Kurt did not mind, although he did shiver just a little.

Blaine noticed. “Are you okay?” he asked, leaning in.

Kurt swallowed. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s just—just a bit colder than I thought it would be.”

Blaine brushed Kurt’s shoulder with his hand, fixing the collar of Kurt’s shirt, and Kurt followed the movement with his eyes. When he looked back up, Blaine was smiling—smirking, really. “Well, next time don’t forget a jacket,” he said and, with a wink, Blaine inclined his head and turned back toward the Admissions building.

Kurt stared after him until he had to squint to make him out. He got halfway to his first class before he could focus on anything except Blaine’s disarming smile, which was when he cursed himself for not asking for his phone number.


“So how was the first day?” Dad asked over dinner.

“Good,” Kurt said, instead of the honest ‘ehhhh’. He did not want to give his dad any reason to feel bad about Kurt having to stay in Lima. It wasn’t his fault Kurt wasn’t exactly thrilled about his life right now. “I like my American History class. But I have to admit, massage therapy seems more complicated than I expected. It’s a lot more than just giving someone a back rub; there’s the history behind it, the different types, the healing qualities. It’s good, though. I’m looking forward to moving on from theory and getting some hands-on experience, so to speak.”

Dad snorted. “Sounds good. Did you make any friends?”

Kurt shook his head. “Only the first day, Dad. But I don’t see that changing much, to be honest. Something about me screams ‘stay away’ and always has. It’s okay, though,” he said, catching his father’s frown. “I’m used to it. I’ve still got my friends from Glee.”

Dad let out a sigh. “Kurt, part of the fun of college is making new friends. I mean, it’s good you have friends from high school you can still spend time with, but you should put yourself out there a little more. You’ve got a lot to offer.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the pep talk. You don’t have to worry about me. Now how was your day? Shop running smoothly?”

Dad frowned further at the subject change, but didn’t comment on it. “Same old, same old. Tim’s still dropping his tools every twenty minutes. I can almost time it.”

Kurt laughed. “Oh, Tim. So clumsy.”

“Yeah, but he’s magic with engines.”

Kurt hummed in agreement and started in on his salad. He could not help but wonder what Blaine was having for dinner.

Cute boys. They’d be the death of him.

After dinner, Kurt called Mercedes long-distance to Los Angeles.

“Kurt, I really wish you were here with me,” she said as soon as she picked up. “You don’t even know how perfect this city is.”

Kurt sighed longingly. “Yeah? Everything it’s cracked up to be?”

“Better, babe. Sorry to rub it in. Now, how was your first day?”

Kurt groaned. “Stunningly mediocre. The only high point was the cute boy I asked for directions.”

“Oooh, I need details.”

“Not really any details to give,” Kurt admitted, flopping down on to his bed. “I asked him where my building was and he brought me there. By the hand.”

“By the hand? Get it, baby!”

Kurt chuckled. “I’m never going to see him again, Mercedes! And I didn’t even think to ask for his number.”

“Damn!” she cursed, dramatically. “Well, there’ve gotta be other cute boys around. You’ll just get one of their numbers.”

“Not likely,” Kurt grumbled.

“You are hot as hell, Kurt Hummel,” Mercedes scolded. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Now you sound like my dad.”

Mercedes chuckled. “Well, your dad’s effing awesome, and so am I, so would you at least take one of us to heart?”

“I’ll try,” Kurt said with a smile. “Now, when are you going to West Hollywood? I want pictures and a full report, missy.”


Kurt waited for a good chunk of his Journalism class to leave before attempting to do so himself. It would take some getting used to—classes so large you had to navigate your way through a crowd to get to the door. His high school classes had contained no more than ten to fifteen students at a time; more than a hundred was a culture shock Kurt would definitely have to ease himself into.

Out in the hallway, Kurt located his next class on his schedule and figured he had enough time to grab a coffee first. It was only the third week of classes, but the workload was already piling up, so coffee was an essential right now. Kurt walked to the Starbucks kiosk in the main building, and to his surprise and delight, Blaine from the first day was standing in line in front of him when he took his eyes off the menu board and got a good look at his surroundings.


Blaine turned curiously, seemed to scan him over, and then his eyes flashed and he smiled in apparent recognition. “Hi! Kurt, right?”

“Yes!” Kurt said, returning the smile with conviction, heart fluttering in his chest at the sight of Blaine’s smile, and the fact that he remembered. His extremely hot outfit did not help; Blaine pulled off the hipster look with precision. “Getting your caffeine fix?” Kurt hazarded.

Blaine groaned and nodded fervently. “I’ve got Civil Law in half an hour, and I need a vat of the stuff to keep my eyes open.”

Without meaning to, Kurt gave Blaine’s arm a comforting pat. “Oh, I can relate. I just came from a journalism course.”

“That actually sounds kind of fun,” Blaine said with a grin. “Better than Civil Law, to be sure.”

“Oh, it’s not. It’s really not,” Kurt assured him. “Your turn,” he added, nodding to the cashier behind the counter who was glaring at them.

Blaine turned and apologized, ordering a medium drip. “What’re you getting?” he asked Kurt.

“Non-fat mocha,” Kurt replied, determined to be unashamed of his coffee choices.

Blaine nodded. “Great. And a non-fat mocha, please,” he said to the cashier, who began to punch it into the register.

“Hey!” said Kurt. “You are not paying for my drink!”

“Yes I am,” Blaine insisted.

No, you’re not,” Kurt argued, reaching into his bag to grab his wallet, but—

“Too late!” Blaine beamed. “Come on,” he said, gesturing to the barista’s drop-off counter. “This way.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes. “You sneaky bastard!”

Blaine just grinned again (and what a lovely grin it was!). “That’s my middle name, actually.”

Kurt threw his head back and laughed, then followed Blaine to the counter to wait for his drink. Blaine already had his medium drip, and he took a sip, smacking his lips. Kurt carefully did not react.

“So what other courses are you taking?” Blaine asked conversationally.

“American History, English Lit, and a class on massage therapy. Part theory, part practice.”

“That sounds awesome!” said Blaine.

Kurt smiled and grabbed his coffee off the counter. “Hey, do you have time to sit for a few minutes?” he asked, motioning toward an empty table. Blaine nodded enthusiastically, and they took a seat across from each other. “So what about you? What courses are you taking?”

Blaine grimaced. “Mostly law courses. Dry. Dull.”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “If they’re dry and dull, why are you taking them?”

“It was part of the deal I made with my parents,” Blaine said in a resigned sort of way. “I got to come here on the condition that I take law courses. They want another lawyer in the family, you see.”

“I take it that’s not on your plan of action,” Kurt guessed.

“Not even a little bit,” Blaine said with a sharp nod. “But it could be worse. I could be at Harvard.”

Kurt positively stared. “I’m sorry. Did—did you just say you could be at Harvard? By what barometer are you measuring worse? And what the hell are you doing in community college?”

Blaine finished his sip of coffee. “Well, when you grow up surrounded by privileged snobs, there just comes a point where you want to be as far away from them as possible.”

Kurt was stunned. He could not believe this guy would choose community college over freaking Harvard. It was almost too much to think that Kurt had been left with no choice but to come here, especially when he’d rather be anywhere else, while Blaine had actively chosen it despite his ample other opportunities.

“I really can’t relate,” Kurt said softly. “I’d rather be anywhere but here.”

Blaine leaned forward a bit. “So why are you here then?”

“My dad had a heart attack last year,” Kurt said simply. Blaine twisted his mouth in sympathy, and Kurt added hastily, “He’s been doing a lot better, but I just couldn’t leave him here by himself when he doesn’t have anyone else to keep an eye on him. It’s been the two of us for so long, and he pretends that he’d be okay by himself but I know he wouldn’t be.” Blaine was giving him every visible sign of attention and empathy, and Kurt felt abruptly embarrassed. “Wow. Sorry for oversharing.”

Blaine shook his head emphatically. “No, no, not at all! Thank you for sharing. I think it’s really cool that you’re so... I don’t know, considerate? That’s not a strong enough word. It’s amazing.”

Kurt blushed and drank some coffee, not sure what to say. “So, what do you think of this place so far?” Kurt settled on.

Blaine smiled. “I like it a lot.”

Kurt took refuge from the distracting sweetness of Blaine’s smile in his cell phone. 11:23. “Oh shit, I have to be in class in seven minutes, I better get going. But thank you so much for the coffee!” Kurt said as he stood.

“Right,” said Blaine, standing up. Was he disappointed? Or was that wishful thinking on Kurt’s part? “Thanks for talking to me.”

Kurt smiled. “Don’t thank me; it was fun, however brief.” He hesitated, reluctant to leave. “Is it--?” Kurt started.

“Can I--?” Blaine began at the same time.

They laughed, Kurt a touch nervously. “Sorry,” he said. “What were you going to ask?”

“Um,” said Blaine, “I was going to ask you for your phone number, actually. I haven’t made any friends yet, and not only are you a great conversationalist, but it’s the second time we’ve run into each other.”

Kurt felt like he might burst from excitement. “You can absolutely have my phone number! I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Blaine’s smile was so wide it seemed to take up his whole face. Kurt felt his stomach clench at the sight of it, as they exchanged numbers and goodbyes, and then Kurt set off for his next class with an irremovable good mood.

He had a friend now!


So, Blaine was kind of perfect.

The only problem was that Kurt could already feel the inevitable crush coming on, and he had no idea if Blaine was gay. And hell, even if he was, it didn’t mean he would be into Kurt.

The fact of the matter was that Kurt had the worst luck when it came to guys. His high school crush on the football quarterback, Finn Hudson, has been downright humiliating; years of trying to work up the courage to speak to him had culminated in a terrified confession of his feelings, and while Finn had, to his credit, been fairly nice about it, the memory still stung. And then there was Sam Evans, a transfer whom Kurt had been adamant was gay, which had wound up being untrue and also humiliating.

So, past experience was telling Kurt not to get his hopes up. Blaine was probably one of the nicest people he’d ever met, and he did not want to mess it up by making him uncomfortable in any way.

Blaine liked to text, which was great since Kurt texted like a maniac. He’d get little tidbit pieces of information during the day, like, Hey, did you know you’re not allowed to plow your field with an elephant in North Carolina? I had no idea there was a surplus of elephants down there. Kurt mostly stuck to texting Blaine about his professors and classmates, and how ridiculous some of them were.

For the first few days that was enough. And then it wasn’t, and one day Kurt asked Do you find it helpful to have someone to study with, even if you’re not studying the same subjects?

Blaine’s responding text had made him smile for hours: Are you a mind reader? My last class finishes at 5 tomorrow. Wanna meet up?


Studying in the library was a very platonic thing to do, Kurt reasoned. Just because couples at other tables were holding hands or exchanging kisses did not mean he should get any ideas.

Kurt was working through his readings for his massage therapy class while trying to work up the courage to ask Blaine about something that had been niggling at him for the past week.

“So, hey, I was just wondering,” he began, and Blaine looked up curiously, “--and you can unequivocally say no; please do not feel as though you have to say yes, it’s just--I was wondering if... you see, for my class, my professor has been very explicit that we should be practicing what we’re learning on actual people. I don’t really know anyone else, so would you consider being my guinea pig of sorts? For my massage therapy practice?”

Blaine’s face broke out in a beautiful smile. “Are you kidding? A free massage? Who would say no to that?”

Kurt laughed, relieved. “Actually, you’d be surprised. A lot of people are very uncomfortable with physical contact like that. That’s one of the first things we learned, in fact; people have very different proprioception levels.”

Blaine blinked. “Uh, I didn’t really understand that last part.”

Kurt smiled. “People differ in how they respond to touch. And massage is more than a tactile sensation; your proprioceptors—your muscle sense, is being stimulated too. That’s why some people are ticklish, and some aren’t; people have different levels of sensory integration.”

“That’s really neat,” Blaine said, looking intrigued rather than bored, as Kurt’s dad had seemed when Kurt had brought the subject up over dinner the other evening. “Well, rest assured: I am not at all uncomfortable with physical contact. In fact, some might say I’m a puppy--I can’t get enough of it.”

“Excellent, I’m glad to hear it,” Kurt said crisply. “So you wouldn’t mind being my puppy for practice sessions?”

“Not even a little bit,” Blaine said, and he winked and went right back to his work like it was nothing.

Kurt wondered if Blaine was trying to tell him something, but his sense of self-preservation (not unlike others’ sense of touch) was too hypersensitive for real analysis of the possible messages in Blaine’s nonverbal communication.


Okay, so you said you were cool with being my test subject?” Kurt checked, glancing anxiously around the library the following day.

“Totally,” said Blaine. “Do we need to go somewhere with a bed? Do I need to be lying down for this, or—?”

“No,” said Kurt, a touch too quickly, but he covered by elaborating, “We’re doing full-body massage later in the semester.” He tried very hard not to blush. “We’ll start simple, with hand massage.”

“Cool,” said Blaine promptly, holding his hand out across the table.

Kurt took Blaine’s hand with a tenderness and reverence that was not quite called for in therapeutic massage, but Blaine thankfully did not know that. Kurt kept his eyes on Blaine’s hand, too shaken by his rapid heartbeat to meet Blaine’s gaze.

He wound his thumb and index finger around each of Blaine’s fingers. He kneaded the back of Blaine’s hand and stretched the muscle of his palm with both thumbs. Blaine’s hand was smooth and rough at the same time, a strange oxymoron of beautifully tanned skin. Wordlessly, Kurt placed Blaine’s hand on the table and plucked the other one into his grasp from where it had been curled in a loose fist beside their textbooks. He repeated the same motions as before, then caressed it gently and set it down on the table before finally flicking his gaze up to Blaine’s face.

Blaine’s expression was completely unreadable, though he quickly gave Kurt a lovely warm smile and said a soft ‘thanks’ before picking up his pen. “You’re gonna be awesome at this,” he said brightly, flipping a page of his book. “Has anyone ever told you how soft your hands are? They’re like silk. Seriously, softest hand I’ve ever touched.”

Blaine said all this as he scanned his book for something, and Kurt was left staring in amazement, both at Blaine’s ability to do two things at once and, in just a few short sentences, make Kurt feel like a professional. And dangerously smitten.

“I moisturize,” Kurt said softly, turning back to his own book.

“Oh yeah?” said Blaine. “Well, you gotta tell me what you use, then, because damn. My hands need it.”

Kurt flipped a page and said, as nonchalantly as possible, “Your hands are lovely."

He was too much of a coward to chance a glance up to see how his compliment had landed.


Kurt sauntered into the living room during halftime, thankful his father’s team was winning. It would certainly make him more agreeable.

“Hey Dad,” Kurt said, sitting down on the couch.

“Hey bud. How’s it going?” Dad asked.

“Fine,” said Kurt. He hesitated, then launched right in. “Is it all right if I invite a friend over for dinner tomorrow night? His name is Blaine, and he’s been living in the dorms, which means he hasn’t had a decent home-cooked meal in weeks, which is just unacceptable.”

Dad muted the television and levelled Kurt with a considering look. “Why are you asking me? We’re both adults, equals. Don’t feel like you have to ask me to invite a friend over, Kurt. This is your house too, and you don’t have to run that kind of thing by me anymore.”

“Well, thanks,” said Kurt awkwardly, “But... well, I was asking because I thought maybe you could grill some steaks and I’d make a salad, and we’d show my friend how the Hummels do dinner.” Dad’s eyebrows twitched, and Kurt quickly added, “Blaine’s great, Dad. He likes football, and he knows a lot about cars...”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to sell him to me?” Dad asked shrewdly, and Kurt blushed. “Are you telling me this guy’s a friend?”

“No,” said Kurt quickly, “No, he’s just a regular friend.”

“Well, your regular friend is welcome to have dinner with us. Is he a Buckeyes fan?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Sounds like a quality friend.”

Kurt smiled. “He is.”

After saying goodnight to his dad, Kurt went upstairs to his room to send Blaine a text about dinner, a simple: My dad and I are having steaks for dinner tomorrow. We’ve got an extra one; do you want it?

Kurt felt he had accurately expressed enough nonchalance on the matter that Blaine wouldn’t interpret it as a come-on. It was certainly friendly enough to be considered a simple, friendly invitation.

Blaine responded in about ten seconds flat: You bet your ass I do!!!

As Kurt laughed hysterically into his pillow, a second text came through: Sorry, that was a little intense, it’s just – STEAK.

Kurt grinned and typed back: Yeah, and this is my dad’s steak we’re talking about here, which means you may just die from satisfaction.

A moment later, Kurt’s phone buzzed: You’re killing me here! And then, another buzz: Sounds great! Thanks for the invite! Coffee shop at 4?

Kurt smirked. You bet your ass!


“So here’s the living room. The kitchen,” Kurt said, gesturing grandly and somewhat nervously.

“Your house is gorgeous!” Blaine said. “Like seriously, who decorated this place?”

“I did,” Kurt admitted with a small smile.

“What?” Blaine gasped. “That’s crazy! Your house is wonderful.”

Kurt felt his face heat from pleasure. “Thanks. Do you want to see upstairs?”

“Do I!?”

Kurt burst out laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I really am,” Blaine said earnestly. “It gets worse the longer you know me, so brace yourself.”

“Consider myself braced,” Kurt giggled, leading the way upstairs. “So, my dad’s working ‘til five, and then we’ll get started on dinner. Here’s my dad’s room.”

“Nice,” said Blaine appreciatively. “You said your dad’s a mechanic?”

Kurt was indescribably happy Blaine remembered. “Yes. And no matter what I tell him about taking it easy, he refuses to cut down to part-time work. He says we can’t afford to hire another guy, but we both know he’s just a stubbourn mule.”

Blaine laughed brightly. “Working makes him happy, I guess,” Blaine said, rather wisely in Kurt’s opinion.

“Mhmm. Here’s the bathroom. And this is my room.” Kurt concluded the tour by opening his door with a slight flourish. This was the part he was really anxious about. This was his space.

“OHmygod, your room is the greatest!” Blaine walked right inside and looked around expansively. “I love that little alcove. And the colours! So awesome.”

Kurt suppressed a giddy smile. “Thank you,” he said again. “My old bedroom, before we moved in here, was kind of dreary so I livened this one up a bit.”

“Your bed!” Blaine gasped. “God, I miss my bed! The one in my dorm is so awful. This one looks so, so comfy.” He gave it a longing look before turning to Kurt with a sunny smile.

“You can test it out if you’d like,” Kurt offered, kind of breathless at the thought of another boy, of Blaine, in his bed.

Blaine’s response to the invitation was to dive on to it and sigh in contentment. “That’s it. I’m moving in,” he groaned.

Kurt’s stomach flip-flopped at the words, even though he knew Blaine was joking. Kurt wondered if he should sit down at his vanity set, or on the edge of the bed or (oh!) actually join Blaine on it.

He decided to perch there, body turned toward Blaine, who rolled on to his side with his head propped up on his hand and his elbow nestled in the mattress. He looked like he was on display, and Kurt felt his heart rate pick up. “Do you want to watch a movie while we wait for my dad to get back?” Kurt asked to distract himself.

“Sure! What did you have in mind?”

Kurt considered Blaine’s question. He had a substantial movie collection, but a lot of them would be... well, pretty gay by most people’s standards. And Blaine was obviously a really good, progressive kind of guy, but still.

“Mostly I have musicals,” Kurt confessed.

“Yeah? Which ones?” Blaine asked eagerly.

Kurt pulled his feet up on the bed to cross his legs. “A lot,” Kurt said succinctly. “Name it, I probably have it.”

“I love musicals,” Blaine said, sitting up. “Do you have RENT?”

Kurt blinked. “You like RENT?”

Blaine gave Kurt an incredulous look. “Um. I’m a gay man, of course I love RENT.”

Kurt’s jaw actually dropped from shock. He started to say something then forgot what he was going to say and finally managed a flat, strained, “You’re gay.”

Blaine looked supremely amused. “Did you seriously not know that? I must be more subtle than I realize.”

“How was I to know?” Kurt demanded. “You’ve never said you were. Weeks we’ve been study buddies, and you never mentioned it!”

“Surprise?” Blaine said wryly. “You know, you haven’t mentioned your orientation yet, either.”

“Oh please, you can see it from New York.”

Blaine laughed hard enough that the mattress shook. “You could have been straight,” Blaine argued amusedly. “This friend of mine from my high school, Jeff? Many people have made the assumption he’s gay, and he’s straighter than an arrow. Unfortunately,” he added with a wicked grin.

Kurt smiled. “Yeah, okay, fair enough,” he relented. “But you probably at least suspected. I had no earthly idea, Blaine.”

“Well, now you know,” he said simply. “So, RENT. Do you have it?”

“Do I have it?” Kurt scoffed, “I’m a gay man, of course I have it.”

Blaine’s responding laughter was loud and uninhibited, and with the brand new information Kurt had just learned it was that much harder to restrain his desire to lean down and smother the laughter with his mouth.


They only got half an hour into the movie before Kurt’s dad got home, the door banging shut behind him. “‘Lo?”

“Hi Dad,” Kurt called. He paused the movie. “Come on. Introduction time.”

Kurt led the way out of his room and down the stairs to the entrance way, where Dad was leaning against the wall as he undid the laces on one of his boots and clomped it down on to the floor. “How was your day?” Kurt asked.

“Crappy,” Dad grunted. “Need dinner, and a beer to go with.”

Kurt cringed. A great way for Blaine to meet his only family! “Uh, Dad? This is Blaine.”

Dad looked up from untying his second boot, and Kurt could see him recalling their previous night’s discussion before cringing himself. He dropped the boot on the floor and straightened up. “Good to meetcha, Blaine,” he said, shaking Blaine’s hand firmly.

“You too, Mr Hummel. Thank you for having me over,” Blaine said cordially.

Dad clapped Blaine on the shoulder. “Burt’s fine.”

Blaine nodded politely, and Kurt decided they were now entering the awkward phase of introduction time. “I’ll start on dinner if you want to get cleaned up,” he suggested.

“Sounds good. Thanks, bud.” He started up the stairs, and Kurt went into the kitchen, gesturing for Blaine to go first. He quickly rinsed his hands at the sink and stepped aside to let Blaine do the same.

“Let me guess,” Kurt said lightly as he opened the refrigerator to retrieve salad ingredients. “He’s not what you expected.”

“To be honest, no,” Blaine said.

Kurt nodded as he shut the fridge and pushed a few tomatoes, a knife, and a cutting board across the island toward Blaine. “Yeah. People are always surprised,” Kurt remarked, already chopping the lettuce. “We’re nothing alike.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Blaine said thoughtfully, and Kurt looked up to see him slicing the tomatoes into perfect squares (seriously, was there anything Blaine wasn’t good at?). He glanced up with a sweet smile. “You have the same handshake.”

He went right back to his work, and Kurt watched him for a few moments before starting in on the cucumbers, completely fixated on the notion that Blaine actually recalled their handshake from almost a month ago now. He was reading too much into it, and thankfully Dad came back downstairs before he could get into real analysis of the situation.

“Let’s get those steaks going,” he said. He opened the freezer and pulled the steaks out. Once the food was settled on the barbeque he returned to the kitchen from the patio and stole a slice of cucumber, pointedly ignoring Kurt’s tut of annoyance. “How was school?” he asked Kurt.

“Fine. My English Lit. prof assigned us a laughably easy paper on To Kill A Mockingbird.”

“Good book,” Dad said, stealing a tomato. Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine, who smiled.

“It’s a great book,” Kurt agreed, “but hasn’t just about everyone already studied that in high school? I mean, McKinley didn’t, but that’s no surprise. Didn’t you study it?” he asked Blaine.

“It was definitely in the Dalton curriculum,” Blaine replied.

“Where’s that?” Dad asked.

“Westerville,” Blaine informed him. “Private school.”

“Must’ve been a steep tuition,” said Dad

Blaine nodded firmly. “Yes it was.”

“Blaine could have gone to an ivy league school,” Kurt said conversationally. “He decided on community college instead.”

“They’re fine for someone else, just not for me,” Blaine told Kurt’s dad. “I thought college sounded like more fun.”

Dad nodded, and Kurt pre-empted his attempt to grab another chopped vegetable with a fierce glare. “You’re going to eat it all before we even sit down!”

“Blaine, I’ll tell you what,” Dad deadpanned, “Don’t ever have a son. One day he grows up and thinks he can tell you what to do.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Blaine chuckled, “but I’ll bet you secretly enjoy it.”

“I hear you like football?” Dad said, changing the subject swiftly, and Kurt stopped tossing the salad to laugh into the sleeve of his shirt.

Oh, this was remarkably, wonderfully, startlingly comfortable.

Had Kurt always hoped a cute guy would come into his life and blend perfectly with the dynamic between his father and him? Yes. Was it extremely dangerous territory to be thinking of Blaine in those terms? Oh yes.


A successful dinner over and done with and Blaine sent back to his dorm with leftovers, Kurt hunkered down to put away the load of clean dishes waiting in the dishwasher. He was indescribably happy with the way the evening had gone, and he could not help but sing songs to accompany the feeling. His father walked in halfway through the job and leaned back against the counter.

“So. Blaine’s a nice guy.”

“Mhmm,” Kurt said as he reached up to place the last of the plates in the cupboard.

“Listen, Kurt,” Dad said abruptly. “I know we haven’t talked about this before, but I just gotta make sure. If you’re gonna be... you know, being... intimate anytime soon, you’ve got to protect yourself.”

Kurt whipped his head around to stare at his dad in abject shock and straight-up horror. “Where did that come from?”

“It’s really important, Kurt,” Dad said, expression very serious. “If anything ever happened to you...” he trailed off ominously, and Kurt saw him suppress a shudder.

“Dad,” said Kurt, mystified, “I know about all that. Of course I’d—not that—I mean, that’s not exactly something that’s on the immediate horizon for me. But if it was, of course I’d protect myself.”

“Good,” said Dad firmly.

“Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden?”

Dad gave him a half-shrug. “I just think it might be more on the horizon than you think.”

“What, because of Blaine?” Kurt yelped. “Dad, we’re not—”

“I know you’re not,” Dad bowled over him. “Not yet anyway. Look, Kurt, I don’t pretend I can read people real well; that was always your mom’s speciality. But I like to think I know what it looks like when a guy’s interested in someone, and Blaine spent an awful lot of that dinner lookin’ at you.”

Kurt gaped at his father. “Well,” he said, with a valiant attempt at dismissing his father’s rattling words, “I—I’m sure he was just looking when I was talking. He looked at you.”

Dad chuckled. “Kurt, come on. You’re a good lookin’ guy. Why wouldn’t he look? And by the way, there’s a difference in how he looked at me, an old goofball, and you, someone he likes.”

“He doesn’t like me!” Kurt shrieked. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Okay, don’t believe me,” Dad said simply. “Now let me give you a hand with the dishes.”

Kurt stared at his dad for a few moments longer, mind pretty spectacularly blown, and then gave him a handful of utensils to be put away. A few minutes later, after Kurt had replayed the entire evening in his head and was kind of wondering if his dad might be on to something, he asked softly, “He was looking at me?”

Dad smiled. “The whole time.”


By the time he had cleaned and dressed himself for school the next day, Kurt was already doubting his father’s assertion. If Blaine was interested, why not just say something? He knew Kurt was gay for sure now, and it wasn’t as if that was a mystery in the first place, so if he liked Kurt why not make a move?

Kurt got through his day’s classes on autopilot and went to meet Blaine at the library like they did almost every day. He wished he could stop agonizing over every little thing, and whether it meant something.

Blaine was waiting at their table with his books already spread out. “Hey!” he said. “Coffee?”

Kurt stared down at Blaine. He’d brought coffee.

No. That was friendly, coffee was friendly; it didn’t mean anything.

“Thank you,” said Kurt swiftly, grabbing the cup and sitting down to organize himself for a good study session. Though how he was going to manage that when his thoughts were so jumbled, and the object of those thoughts so close, Kurt did not know.

“Don’t mention it. Consider it payback for dinner last night. Thanks again, Kurt, I had a really good time.”

“No problem,” Kurt said breezily, intent on getting his books out of his bag so he did not have to look directly at Blaine. It was a lot like looking directly at the sun. “I’m glad you had a good time.” He cracked his massage therapy textbook open and threw Blaine a smile. Blaine gave him a completely dazzling one in response.

Shaken by his emotional response to the strange moment, Kurt got down to work. He only go about five minutes into his assigned readings before an unfamiliar voice interrupted his errant thoughts: “Hey. You’re Kurt, aren’t you?”

Kurt looked up and locked eyes with a boy who had very unfortunate hair. And pants. After peering at the guy for a few moments, Kurt surmised that he did not know him. “Yes, that would be me,” he said slowly.

The guy smiled. “Uh, we have American History together. I sit at the back, so you probably haven’t noticed me. I’m Phil.”

“Nice to meet you, Phil,” Kurt said.

“You too! So... you seem to really know the subject. You’re always answering questions right, and I’m having some trouble, so I thought maybe you could give me some pointers?”

Kurt raised an amused eyebrow. “Well, pointer number one: don’t sit at the back of the class.”

Phil laughed. “Right, definitely. Would you, uh, maybe be willing to tutor me a little? I could pay you in coffee!”

Kurt shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Would tomorrow afternoon around 4:30 be okay? Right here?”

“Absolutely!” Phil said enthusiastically. “Tomorrow, 4:30, right here.” He grinned. “See you then!”

“Bye,” said Kurt, and he turned back to his work but was distracted by Blaine, whose eyebrows were raised.

“It was like I wasn’t even here,” Blaine said, watching Phil’s retreating form.

“Oh, sorry, I should have introduced you,” Kurt said, cringing.

Blaine shook his head. “It’s fine. I just meant that he seemed very focused on you.”

Kurt blinked at Blaine in confused fashion.

“He was flirting with you,” Blaine elaborated.

“What?” Kurt gasped, blushing profusely. “He was not!”

“He was,” Blaine said confidently.

“He’s not even gay,” Kurt snorted.

Blaine raised his eyebrows. “Yes he is. I guarantee he is.”

“And what makes you say that?” Kurt asked dryly.

Blaine adopted a lofty expression. “I have excellent gay-dar.”

“You weren’t sure about me,” Kurt said archly.

“I suspected, like you said.”

“Uh huh,” Kurt said, drawing out the second syllable.

“I’ll bet on it,” Blaine said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “He’s gay, and he’s interested in you. If I win, I get another massage.”

Kurt determinedly did not blush. “And if I win?”

“I’ll give you one,” Blaine said easily, and he turned back to his book.

Kurt’s head spun with questions for the remainder of their study session. He did not get any work done.


“I find the best way to remember all this stuff is to write out the day’s notes when you have a chance later that night, and then look it over every day. That way, you’re constantly reminding yourself of what you learned, and by the time you get to midterms it’s not so hard to cram it all in because it’s already in there,” Kurt said. “So, is there anything you’re having particular trouble with, or...?”

“Um.” Phil looked down and smiled guiltily. “I’m not actually having trouble with the class,” he said, “I kind of just wanted to have an excuse to ask you out.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. Blaine was right, the sneaky bastard! He fumbled with his surprise and tried to figure out what he should say. He felt bad saying no. The guy was putting himself out there in a way Kurt himself had done before in the past, and Kurt just couldn’t console himself with the idea that he could be the one to disappoint someone else. “Well, I – I guess coffee maybe?” He forced himself to look up.
“Something casual, though? I’m... kind of new to this.”

Phil’s face cracked into an enormous smile. “Coffee sounds great!” he said quickly. “I’m all for casual!”

Kurt smiled wanly, wondering why he felt like he was betraying Blaine by agreeing to go on a date with Phil. It wasn’t like they were dating, or like Blaine was even interested in him for certain. He hadn’t seemed all that bothered by the idea of someone asking Kurt out, so odds were he wouldn’t even care.

Still, Kurt felt guilty.


“So did he ask you out?” Blaine asked as soon as Kurt sat down in the just-off-campus diner for supper.

Kurt sighed as he put his bag down beside him on the plastic seat of the booth. “I owe you a massage.”

Blaine cheered. “I knew it! My gay-dar’s awesome.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, biting his lip on a grudging smile. “Can we order? I’m starving.”

“For sure,” said Blaine.

Once they’d placed their orders and been equipped with glasses of water, Blaine clinked Kurt’s glass with his own. “So, hey, what did you say?” he asked. “When he asked you out, I mean. Did you say yes?”

Kurt scanned the room, which was full of rowdy college students, for a few moments before he gave Blaine his attention. “Uh, yeah. We’re going for coffee.” He peered at Blaine as he answered, searching for signs of disappointment, but he didn’t see any. He tried not to feel disappointed himself.

“Oh. Cool,” said Blaine. “When’s that?”

Kurt drew designs on the table in the condensation from his glass. “Tomorrow,” he answered.

“Awesome. Sounds like fun.”

Kurt glanced up and faked a smile at Blaine, who was focused on fingering the prongs of his fork. “Yeah,” Kurt said. “So how was your day?”

Blaine shrugged. “Fine. Yours?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Should I give a matching monosyllabic answer, or do you want to try answering my question again, but for real this time?”

Blaine laughed, eyes shining in the dim light of the diner. “It was all right, I guess. Actually, we talked about torture in my ethics class. Depressingly, 60% of my classmates said torture was permissible in extreme circumstances.”

Kurt sneered. “Obviously they didn’t experience torture in high school.”

Blaine’s eyes widened in shock. “That is exactly what I thought.”

They exchanged a look of surprise, then understanding, and as the waitress brought them their food they began to exchange the very worst of their high school experiences with relative torture in a game of one-upmanship that felt a little like therapy.

It was a shame, really. He and Blaine had so much in common! He wished he were going on a date with Blaine tomorrow instead of Phil. Frankly, there was very little chance that Phil would measure up.


Kurt found his dad in the kitchen munching on chips and salsa when he got home from dinner with Blaine. Happy that that his dad had chosen a fairly healthy snack, Kurt smiled. “Hi. How was your day?”

Dad said, “Fine,” around a bite of food. “Yours?”

Kurt hesitated. Then he just went for it. “A guy from my American History class asked me out today.”

Dad choked on the food in his mouth and coughed sporadically for several moments. Kurt looked on in concern (don’t mention gay things while your dad’s eating, Kurt!) as Dad ground out a rough, “What?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Kurt, brushing his wayward bangs back with a flick of his fingers. “And I—well, I said yes, because I didn’t want to be the guy who said no. But then I thought maybe it wasn't proper, what with Blaine, except when it came up he did not seem bothered at all. And now I’m just confused, and not at all looking forward to this date.”

Dad stared at Kurt, pushed his cap back and straightened it. “Okay,” he said slowly. His expression was considering as he twirled the bowl of chips on the island, and then he said, “Well, just because he didn’t seem bothered doesn’t mean he wasn’t.”

“He didn’t react at all,” Kurt said flatly.

Dad leaned forward, elbows on the island. “Kurt, when I met your mom she was already seeing someone. And I knew I couldn’t show how I felt about it on the outside 'cause, well, I had no rights to her or nothin’. So I played it cool and stayed her friend. And then one day, she wasn’t seeing someone anymore, and that’s when I knew I could be honest with her about how I felt.” Kurt looked down, thoughtful. “You get what I’m saying here, bud?”

“Yes,” said Kurt, “But I’m not sure that’s the case here.”

Dad pushed the bowl of chips over to Kurt. “Maybe, maybe not. But in the meantime, why’re you going on a date with someone you’re not interested in? You might want to give the guy you actually like at least the option of a date before you go assumin’ he wouldn’t want one.”

And with that, he smiled and started back in on the chips. Kurt licked some salt off his fingers and wondered, not for the first time, if his dad could possibly be right about Blaine.


“So how are you liking your classes?” Phil asked. He seemed nervous, which was cute and sweet.

Kurt sighed, “Oh, let’s not talk about school. Tell me about yourself. What are your hobbies? What are your friends and family like?”

Phil launched into a description of his life, and Kurt listened politely for several minutes until thoughts of Blaine began to worm their way into his attention span.

What was Blaine doing right now? Homework? Was he taking a nap? He probably looked super adorable when he slept; curls all unkempt. Did he sleep on his side, or on his back? Or maybe his front?

Kurt tuned back into real time and noticed Phil had stopped talking. He looked uncomfortable. “Oh, I-I’m sorry,” said Kurt. “I was...”

“Somewhere else?”

Kurt sucked in a breath and said, “You seem like a great guy, Phil, so I hate to do this, but I have to take care of something very important, and it can’t wait.” Kurt got to his feet, and Phil looked up with shock all over his features. “This is so rude, oh my god, I’m sorry! It’s just—yeah, I really do have to go. Thank you for the coffee!”

And he took off, already mapping out his trajectory in his head.

He had to find Blaine.


It took some detective work and a theatrical performance to find Blaine’s room. Kurt went to the dorm building and circled the place several times until, eventually, he found a TA who gave him Blaine’s dorm room number and a concerned pat on the shoulder after Kurt tearfully said a classmate of his had a book that he really, really needed in order to finish a paper due tomorrow.

After locating the correct floor and room, he knocked three times, so quick it had to sound urgent to anyone inside. Blaine opened his door and did a double take upon seeing Kurt there. “Kurt! What—what are you doing here?”

“I owe you a massage,” Kurt said breathlessly. “Remember? You won the bet.”

Blaine glanced down. “I—I thought you were going out with that guy tonight.”

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t even know him.”

“Uh. What?” said Blaine, looking very confused. Kurt did not blame him.

“I was trying to pay attention to him, forcing myself,” Kurt began, “and I just... I realized that’s not how you should be on a date. You know, forcing yourself to pay attention. I realized I didn’t want to be there.” Blaine bit his lip, but not before Kurt saw the flash of an unmistakable smile cross his features. Kurt’s heart began to pound. “So?” he prompted breathlessly. “The massage you officially won? It’s about time I delivered.”

“I was kidding about that. You don’t have to—”

“I thought you said you were a puppy,” Kurt interrupted. “You said you like physical contact; I’m offering you a massage. Do you want it or not?”

Blaine stared at Kurt for a few seconds, and then he sighed. “Yeah, okay. Sure.” Blaine let Kurt in with an informative, “My roommate’s out. He’s basically never here, just at night.”

Kurt nodded absently, taking in the room with hungry eyes. He’d never been in Blaine’s room before, and Kurt was a firm believer in the idea that you could always tell something about a person by the way they kept their living space. It was obvious by the poster of Megan Fox above one of the beds whose side was Blaine’s roommate’s. Blaine’s side was a bit more tasteful. He had a little bookshelf crammed full of books and a chest of drawers that had to be made of mahogany, the top shelf pulled out slightly. His bed was not made, and there were sweaters and shirts draped over his computer chair. His laptop was open on the desk, with swirly colours traveling across the screen. Apart from that, his side of the room was clean, but with little reminders that it was lived-in. Kurt loved it immediately.

Kurt smiled. “Well, it’s small, but it’s nice.”

“Thanks,” said Blaine. “Uh, sorry about the mess, I wasn’t expecting visitors,” he added with a bout of nervous-sounding laughter.

Kurt was supremely encouraged. “It’s fine,” he assured Blaine, heart thrumming with excitement. “So, I guess you should lie down on the bed. On your front.”

Blaine bobbed his head wordlessly a few times and crawled across his bed to lie prone on it. “You might want to take your sweater off,” said Kurt helpfully. “You won’t feel much through so many layers.” Blaine got up on to his knees and shucked his cardigan off, lobbing it toward his chair. He straightened back out on the bed and laid his head on folded arms, and Kurt walked steadily over to sit gingerly on the side of the bed. Kurt rubbed his hands together to create some warmth, and with one last rallying breath placed his hands on Blaine’s shoulder blades. Blaine jerked slightly, but gave no other response. Kurt thought back to some of the theory he’d been learning and slid his hands up to rest them on the tops of Blaine’s shoulders.

He began slowly at first, just rubbing from the top of Blaine’s back to the bottom, stopping just short of the hem of Blaine’s jeans. He repeated the motion three times. Blaine remained motionless, and Kurt sort of rolled his shoulders back and hitched up on the bed to get closer, squeezing the base of Blaine’s neck.

Blaine let out a long, slow breath. Kurt followed up on the movement several more times before dropping an inch or two to sink his palms into the juncture of muscle on either side, between Blaine’s neck and collarbone. The tension in Blaine’s shoulders released a degree, and Kurt could literally feel as the tight set to his shoulders dissipated under his hands, until Blaine was breathing steadily in and out.

Kurt spread his hands along each of Blaine’s shoulder blades, fingers splayed out toward Blaine’s sides. He dug his thumbs into the muscle next to the juts of bone, soothing the skin inwards until his thumbs met in the middle of Blaine’s back. He avoided Blaine’s spinal cord, like he’d been drilled to, while repeating the inwards stroking until Blaine made a very soft, almost silent sound of bliss.

Clenching his eyes shut on a sudden, fierce wave of arousal, Kurt skipped several steps and brought his hands down to the small of Blaine’s back. He worked there, pressing into the muscle and bone, and Blaine let out a soft moan, which he seemed to catch and cut off abruptly.

Kurt shivered.

Oh, but what if Blaine wasn’t interested? Another part of Kurt’s class theory was professional ethics, or more accurately sexual misconduct. Those happy endings everyone seemed to know about were strictly forbidden in a therapeutic setting. Kurt wished very deeply that he knew for sure whether this should be a platonic, professional sort of massage, or... something else. Something with a happy ending.

Because he wanted a happy ending, and not in a euphemistic sort of way but in the general sense. He wanted a happy ending with Blaine, who was charming and smart and funny and hilariously goofy, and sure, he was also gorgeous, but mostly he was a really good person. And even though Kurt had only known him for roughly half a semester, it felt like he’d known Blaine a whole lot longer than that, like they’d met years ago.

Blaine turned his head, cheek pressed into the top of his arm. “Are you done?” he asked softly. “You stopped.”

Kurt shook away his thoughts. “No, I can keep going. Unless you’re uncomfortable. I can stop if—”

“No, it’s—it feels great,” Blaine mumbled. “Your hands are... they're perfect.”

Kurt experimentally pressed his thumbs into the muscle underneath his hands, and Blaine keened in the back of his throat, shut his eyes tight and shuddered. Kurt sucked in a breath, actually taken aback by how turned on he was. The evidence was unmistakable in his too-tight jeans. Blaine turned his head a bit more and opened his eyes again. There was something to the look he gave Kurt that crackled in the space between them. Kurt stared helplessly back, hot and tense, and leaned down. He shut his eyes; if Blaine was going to reject him, he didn’t want to see it.

He pressed his lips to Blaine’s gently—so gently it was barely even a kiss. He waited, heart pounding, and was shocked and amazed when Blaine returned and deepened the gentle pressure. Kurt parted his lips slowly and gasped when Blaine’s hot, wet tongue brushed his own. Blaine stuttered out a breath and pulled away just enough to turn on to his back. Kurt changed his own position so that his forearms flanked Blaine’s head on either side, and leaned in to seal their mouths together. He curled his tongue into Blaine’s searing hot mouth and groaned when their tongues met again. Blaine moaned, and the kiss went swiftly from gentle to desperate. It was more a meeting of mouths now, tongues brushing insistently. Kurt bit back a whimper and closed his teeth around the swell of Blaine’s bottom lip, and Blaine breathed hotly into the kiss, his hands flying up to cup Kurt’s jaw. Blaine lifted his head and licked into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt felt a surge of heat flood through his body and pulled away for a moment, lips actually tingling, to open his eyes and stare down at Blaine’s awed face. It made his stomach flip-flop in a dangerous way, and he let out a relieved breath.

“I’ve been wanting to do that pretty much since I met you,” he whispered.

Blaine’s eyes snapped open. His gaze was intense, and he actually whined as he linked his arms at the wrists around Kurt’s neck to pull him in for another kiss. Kurt sighed into it, and Blaine nudged Kurt’s hip with his thigh. “Come on,” he muttered against Kurt’s mouth. “Come here, you’re too far.”

Kurt moved so he was straddling Blaine and hissed at the contact of their aligned hips, swallowing thickly at Blaine’s sharp inhalation of breath. Blaine’s hips came up to meet Kurt’s and his hands clenched in Kurt’s hair.

“Kurt,” he breathed, “I—I can’t believe—I thought you weren’t interested in me.”

Kurt bit his lip, hard, and rolled his hips down. “I thought you weren’t interested in me,” he gasped. Blaine stroked his hands up Kurt’s thighs to his hips and yanked them forward. “Oh, Blaine.”

Blaine’s eyes fluttered shut. “I—I thought, once I told you I was gay...”

“I’m an idiot. I was—am—so, so interested,” Kurt groaned. “I thought you didn’t care because—oh—because,” Kurt panted, “when that guy asked me out you didn’t seem to mind.”

Blaine thrust up and let out this sexy little grunt. “I did mind,” he said in a strained voice, “I just thought you were—ah!—interested in him instead. I wanted to bust that guy’s balls, Kurt, you don’t even know.”

Kurt froze, hips suspended above Blaine’s, and then he burst into giggles and basically collapsed on to Blaine’s chest. “Blaine!” he wheezed. “Communication: we suck at it!”

Blaine hugged Kurt and kissed his jaw, huffing out a laugh. “Big time.”

Kurt laughed even harder as a thought occurred to him. “Oh god, this means my dad was totally right about everything. He said you liked me, and he said you were probably pretending to be okay with the date.”

Blaine beamed. “You talk to your dad about me?”

Kurt folded his arms over Blaine’s chest and let his chin rest there. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Blaine hummed and kissed Kurt again. “Well, obviously your dad’s a very smart man.”

“He really, really is,” Kurt agreed. Then he remembered how hot and heavy they’d been getting just a few moments ago. “Actually, let’s not talk about my dad when I’m sitting on top of you, ‘kay?”

Blaine laughed, eyes scrunched up and body shaking under Kurt’s. “Okay,” he said cheerfully. “Just as long as you get your mouth back down here.”

Kurt smirked and leaned in to lick a stripe across the heated skin of Blaine’s throat. He hummed when Blaine groaned in the back of his throat; he could feel the vibrations of it against his lips.

“I’m so glad you got lost that day,” Blaine mumbled, hands pressing into Kurt’s back.

“Mmm, me too,” Kurt whispered, and he sucked a mark above Blaine’s collarbone.

“Kurt, jesus!” His fingers sifted through Kurt’s hair and pressed down a little, and Kurt hummed and bit down on the bone. Blaine let out a whine. “Holy shit!”

Kurt moved his mouth back up to Blaine’s, and Blaine cupped Kurt’s face again and actually sucked on his tongue. “Ohhhh,” Kurt sighed. “Do that again, god.”

Blaine did, very eagerly. His teeth pressed down a bit, too, and Kurt’s hips slammed forward against Blaine’s stomach. Blaine made a little ‘huh’ sound and shivered, pressing up. Then his hands slid down to cup Kurt’s ass, and Kurt’s back arched in pleasure. “Blaine,” he grunted, feeling hot all over in the most delicious way. He looked down, and his breath got caught in his throat when he saw Blaine’s wet mouth gaping open on hitches of breath, his eyes dark with—with lust, dear god.

“You’re so hot, I can’t,” Kurt babbled, grinding down and letting out a gasp when Blaine’s fingers gripped his ass tight.

“Took the words right outta my mouth,” Blaine said breathlessly, arching up and dragging Kurt in with his big, rough hands.

“Yeah, yeah, just like that,” Kurt sighed. He could feel every inch of Blaine’s cock under his balls.

Blaine rolled his head back and growled, “Fuuuck, you are so sexy.”

Kurt whimpered and pulled his hips up to slam them back down again. Blaine surged up and bent his knees, allowing Kurt to settle gratefully against Blaine’s raised thighs. He rutted hard against Blaine’s cock; the angle was perfect, just fucking perfect, and soon his hips slammed forward as his orgasm crashed over him.

He was shameless in volume. “Oh, oh yes!” he cried, hands clenching in Blaine’s shirt as he rode out the tremors and saw stars. Blaine’s hands were almost painful in their grip on Kurt’s ass as he thrust up and came, mouth open on a near-silent gasp and long, outrageous guttural moan as he curled up toward Kurt’s body and sagged back against the mattress.

Kurt’s heart was beating exceedingly fast. His breath was out of control, and he couldn’t hold himself up anymore, dropping down on to Blaine instead with a groan of contentment. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist and placed a kiss on Kurt’s jaw. “Fuck, Kurt.”

Kurt let out a long breath. “Yeah, that about sums it up,” he said throatily. Huh. Apparently orgasms made you lose your voice a little.

“I am really really glad you left your date,” Blaine said gravelly, and clearly the voice thing was universal.

Kurt smiled against Blaine’s cheek and snuggled closer. “I’m really glad I left my date too.” He sighed happily and lifted his head to make eye-contact with Blaine. “Do you want to get cleaned up?”

Blaine twisted his mouth up in contemplation. “Nah. I kind of wouldn’t mind trying that again, but without clothes this time.”

Kurt could not hold back his giddy smile. “There’s an idea. Clothes are overrated. And coming from me, that is one hell of a statement.”

Blaine chuckled and squeezed Kurt before rolling them over so he was on top. He stared down at Kurt, eyes flickering over Kurt’s face. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered. “My heart stops when you look at me.”

Kurt groaned. “Are you quoting Katy Perry at me right now?” he demanded with an arch of his eyebrow. “Because that is so lame I’m almost impressed.”

Blaine grinned and sang softly, under his breath, ““I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece, I’m complete.

Kurt’s heart swelled at the sound of Blaine’s crooning, lovely voice (seriously; flawless at everything), but he still managed to roll his eyes lightly. “Seriously, Blaine?”

Blaine just kissed Kurt and sang, so close Kurt could feel the words, “You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream/The way you turn me on, I can’t sleep/Let’s run away and don’t ever look back...

Kurt smiled helplessly against Blaine’s mouth and sang back, just as helplessly, “Don’t ever look back.”

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