Chapter Text
He meets Sir the second week of May, the fifth week he’s been bed ridden. At this point he’s been out of school for two months, the first week of those two leaving permanent scars on him, ones he can’t shake. There’s a cast on his leg and a gaping cut along his back, with bandages around his ribcage and cuts everywhere, a couple he put there himself.
Blaine lays on his bed, one hand perusing the depths of the internet and the other pushed down his boxers, palming his dick as he tries to find something that interests him, something to help take the edge off.
The cuts on his arms are throbbing and his back aches, somewhere in the back of his mind he knows it aches, but he wouldn’t know, he can’t feel anything.
His head is fuzzy and he can really hardly focus on the screen in front of him but that’s okay, this is just something quick.
He finally clicks on a video and when it starts to play Blaine is immediately entranced, because it’s something he’s never seen before. There’s a boy, a young boy, on his knees, hands tied to posts in front of him. His mouth is bound and there’s rope around his thighs, red indents forming from having been there a long time.
There’s a shadow and then a man, a much older man walks out, holding something. And it’s with a cruel grin and some filthy, filthy words that send a spark of pleasure to Blaine’s groin, that he swings his arm, hitting that boy’s ass. The boy jerks almost imperceptibly, moaning around the gag in his mouth, and the man hits him again.
And again and again, all while letting disgusting, degrading, (wonderful, Blaine thinks, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the head of his dick) words fall from his mouth as he grins like he’s enjoying it, enjoying taking pleasure from somebody else.
The paddling doesn’t go on for long before the camera switches and the man now has his cock buried in the boy’s ass, pounding into him with a hand gripping the younger one’s hair. All the while he calls the boy dirty things like my slut, my whore in a possessive tone that makes Blaine’s toes curl. The boy nods along to everything, clenching his eyes shut and agreeing, nodding when the man bends over and whispers into his ear, “Yeah? You’re mine, huh? That all you want? To be mine? To be my bitch?”
And the boy, the boy just takes it, breathing out through his nose and moaning like this is all he wants to do for the rest of his life. His expression is one of utter bliss, sweat pouring from his hairline and face red from exertion, saliva dribbling out of his mouth.
By now Blaine is on his knees and panting, fist stuck in his mouth to keep quiet as he jacks himself, squeezing periodically and smearing pre-cum around when he has the chance.
Logically he knows that the reason he hasn’t come yet is because he’s so hopped up on pain meds his pleasure is hardly registering to his body, but he can’t bring himself to care because it still feels so good.
His pleasure ratchets up when he sees tears leaking from the corners of the boys eyes as the man buries himself to the hilt in the boys ass and coming, hips rocking gently.
However, it’s to the sight of the man pulling out and smacking the boys ass one more time before walking away and just leaving the boy there, come leaking out of his ass and wrists still tied to the post that Blaine finally, finally comes, gasping for air.
He gently lowers himself to his bed, body sensitive and tingling. Come has painted his pillow case and he sluggishly rips it off, balling it up and throwing it somewhere before collapsing onto his pillows, closing his laptop.
It’s four am and Blaine finally falls asleep, sated for now.
-
The next night Blaine has a clear head and trembling hands as he scrolls through a porn site. He’s looking for that video, the one with the owned boy and the ruthless man.
He finally clicks “Jailbait boy gets owned by hung Dominant” and is taken to the same video from last night. He doesn’t get let himself get too caught up in it, because his cock is already hardening just thinking about it, but instead he scrolls down to the tags.
Blaine has been on enough porn sites to know everything is absurdly tagged, but that it will eventually lead him to what he wants. He clicks on the first tag, “BDSM”, and lets it take him to the millions of other porn videos tagged with it. He skips anything with a vagina, or the ones with multiple people, just clicks on the first one that actually interests him.
It’s an hour of perusing the videos and stroking his cock before he comes, spilling over his hand with a gasp and closing his eyes against the shame.
-
Blaine, at this point, understands it’s becoming some type of weird obsession, but he doesn’t let himself think about it.
Instead he spends another night on the internet, looking up “BDSM” and what it is, what it means. He finds a lot of blogs and resources, things he doesn’t understand but god, does he want to.
It sounds like something he wants to be a part of, something he wants to learn.
Something he wants to be taught.
So he signs up. He signs up on websites that he really shouldn’t be, websites that don’t ask for much besides a credit card, which he has. (His parents won’t care, they don’t even look at the bill anymore.)
He reads a lot of the posts on a forum, always looking and lurking but never making himself known.
Until two days later, when everything feels tight, and all the bruises and scars are aching and on fire. His mother had just left his room after changing his cast and muttering to herself (“Why did this have to happen before the summer, this is not the fucking time.”) harsh things that he can’t block out and can’t avoid. She finally stands up and gives him a tight smile, kissing his forehead and backing out of the room before closing the door with a solemn expression.
It’s really unfair, how she can make him feel like shit without even knowing, even when she’s not trying to.
So he reaches over to his nightstand and pulls out his pills again, the ones his doctor gave him to use at his own caution, the ones that will make it feel a bit better. And when it kicks in, he reaches under his bed for his scissors and makes a few more cuts, a few more tears in his skin that feel different from the ones he hadn’t put there.
Blaine reaches for his laptop and, with a fuzzy brain and clouded vision, he puts it out there, lets everyone know that he’s in pain, and he’s alone.
“posted by bda95 at 1:25 am, ct
Is there anybody who would like to help
I have a lot on my shoulders and I feel like I’m going to collapse under the weight of my own self-loathing at anytime. ”
And he hits post, closing his eyes and hoping someone will answer his plea.
He’ll regret it in the morning when he has coherent and logical thinking back again, but for now he just moves to another tab, looking for something to get him off.
-
The notification of an email startles him out of his pleasured reverie, hand gliding over his cock smooth and quick. He groans but looks at it anyways, squinting at his screen to read the words. It’s telling him that he has a chat request from kh-s84, with a little message already there.
“Hello, bda95. I saw your post and I would like to help you. Are you still around?”
Blaine groans, hand stilling on his cock. He can almost taste it, he’s about to have what he wants. He shakily types out his message, biting his tongue.
“yes I am.”
He waits a moment before sending another message, more hesitant now. “how…how can you help me?”
It takes a moment but soon kh-s84 responds with, “Are you touching yourself?”
From bda95:
I was.
From kh-s84 :
Stroke yourself.
From bda95:
Okay…
The reply is instantaneous, just:
Sir. You will call me Sir.
The name makes him moan into his fist, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he comes, moaning into his hand.
Blaine suddenly feels disgusting. It’s more than the drying sweat and come; it’s a shameful feeling in the pit of his stomach, pushing itself up his esophagus, threatening to make him puke.
Blaine chickens out and leaves the chat, shutting down his laptop and going to sleep.
-
Blaine spends all day fretting over what he did.
He had let a stranger dominate him online, while high. The guy could have been a pervert, he could have been trying to take advantage of his vulnerability.
However, what worries him the most is how he’d reacted to Blaine just suddenly logging off. He knows that kh-s84 had no real claim over him,but Blaine still feels bad for just leaving abruptly.
The guilt is what leads him to opening up his laptop with the intent to go back to the chat and apologize, to grovel if he has to.
Instead he finds an email already waiting from him from [email protected]. He’s afraid to click it but Blaine knows, he knows that when he put it out there that he was calling for anybody, and he found someone. He can’t just back out now, no matter how temporary and tentative.
And he has to admit, knowing that someone had answered his plea had made his heart clench and his back throb, because god, someone probably millions of miles away maybe cares about him.
“Dear bda95,
Last night, I chatted with you very, very briefly. I
answered your post about needing a dom, and I asked to help you.
However, you left the chat before I could actually help you, or at least know if I already had.
Do you know how that makes me feel? Not only as a dom, but as a person. As a dom, my job is to help my sub (in this case, you) get through whatever they’re feeling in the best way I know how. I have years of domming experience in my back pocket, and never once have I had a sub safeword with me. You, signing out randomly was equivalent to safewording in my book, and I now feel as if I have done something wrong, and I don’t know what it is nor how to fix it. As a person, with my worrywart nature, you leaving has me worrying and wondering: Are you okay? Do I need to call the police? Is there anything I can do to help?
Was it something I did? Was having you call me “Sir” too much? If so, you need to tell me. The most important aspect of a D/s relationship – any relationship, really – is communication. We had a very short, two minute claim, but I’d very much like to think that the same rules applied.
Goodbye, bda95. I really hope to hear from you soon. “
Blaine slouches back, mind reeling. He feels a lot right now, but mainly he has curiosity sitting at the base of his mind. There’s so much he does not know, there’s so much to learn.
Blaine wonders if he’ll ever learn, but he knows that this is not the way. He has to wait, has to wait a few years until he’s out on his own and maybe happy.
He responds, not wanting this man that came to him when things were low to feel like he did something wrong when really Blaine is just scared.
“kh-s84,
I am sincerely sorry for any worry I may have caused you last night. It was not my intention and I know now not to do it again.
The truth is, I asked for a Dom because I was feeling at my lowest, even though I always feel like I’m at my lowest. I’ve recently discovered the vivid world of BDSM and I thought that maybe a Dom is what I needed to help bring me back up. I did it in a moment of drugged, painful weakness, and yes, I understand how irresponsible it was of me.
Please do not think it was your fault. I came, when you told me to call you “Sir”, and I thought you wouldn’t like that. I’ve never done this before, and I was afraid and cowardly in the face of punishment. (I realize now, with a clear mind, that this is all ridiculous of me to think, but I was simply scared.)
I’m sorry, once again. I’m just an impulsive idiot with too many problems, and I am regretful for bringing you into all of this.
Sincerely, bda95.”
It’s then that his mother comes in to check his cast, so he closes his laptop and watches her peer over it with detached interest.
“Is there anything I can get you, sweetie?”
Blaine swallows, clearing his throat. “No…no thanks mom.”
She sits at the edge of the bed, hand resting protectively over his ankle. It’s the first time she’s shown such a motherly gesture in a very long time and he trembles with it, wanting a hug and knowing he won’t get one.
His back throbs.
“Blaine…I was thinking…do you think you need a therapist?”
Blaine rolls his eyes away, not wanting to have this conversation. “I’m fine.”
“Blaine,” He looks up at her sharp tone, “Don’t lie to me. I know your father and I haven’t always shown it but we’re on your side. We didn’t need this anymore than you did.”
Blaine laughs bitterly, shifting his ankle away from her hand. Of fucking course, she’s upset because in her mind this is something that has happened to their family, something that will mar their reputation.
He’s just one big scar, isn’t he?
“Could you please leave, mom?” He clenches his jaw and refuses to look at her when she gets up and closes his door with a gentle click.
He takes a couple of deep breaths, gripping his forearm and throwing his head back. When he feels calm again he reaches over to his laptop, looking for an email from kh-s84 but not expecting one.
He gets one.
“bda95,
First, I should say that I’m so relieved you’re okay. Something happening to you on my watch is not in my books.
Also, next time please just tell me if something is wrong or if there’s something I can change.
I’m not upset, and I wasn’t ever.
Not to be forward, but please feel free to email me at anytime. No contract, no pressure. I’d just like to know you, bda95 , if you’d like that .
kh-s84”
Blaine blinks in surprise, rubbing his neck. He’d expected kh-s84 to kick him to the curb after he’d found that he was okay.
Blaine bites his lip and tries to not get his hopes up, his fingers flying over the keys as he eagerly tells him yes, yes, of course I would.
Blaine wouldn’t call it a summer romance, because it’s really so much more than that, but it’s definitely something.
---
Sir turns out to be Kurt. Kurt is twenty-eight, a Broadway performer with a teaching degree (“It’s a long story but I had been told I needed something to ‘fall back on’,” Kurt had told him with an eye roll and a tiny smile) and is the kindest, most compassionate and understanding person that Blaine has ever met.
They talk to each other all summer and every day, every time Kurt says something sweet, or something funny or something so astoundingly deep Blaine falls a little more in love. They talk about anything and everything. Blaine tells Kurt more than he’s ever told anyone, lets himself be true to himself, for Kurt.
Blaine tells him about what happened at his old school, how he was hurt so badly and tells him about all the scars that were left because of it. He tells Kurt about his family, and about how his injuries seem to be tearing them apart.
And Kurt asks exactly what was happening that night when Blaine had posted so desperately on the forum, high. Kurt asks him why he felt he needed to be buzzed that night and Blaine says that it’s because everything gets to be too much sometimes.
Kurt just tells him to be careful, and that he can always come to him.
Blaine only smiles, wiping at his eyes though Kurt will never know Blaine had been sobbing at his computer because Kurt makes him feel too much, all the time.
---
The first time they Skype is after a Friday night, Blaine coming back from an excruciatingly painful dinner with his parents.
Blaine is nervous, but not nervous enough to not do it. He’s been waiting for this moment, this moment when he’ll actually see Kurt, even if he won’t be able to actually touch him. But he’ll finally be able to put a face to a previously faceless image, and that thought alone is enough to make Blaine accept the video chat request.
And Kurt is literally everything he could have hoped for. For a moment they just stare at each other, and Blaine wants to – Blaine wants to touch so, so badly. Everything about him is gorgeous, from his swept hair to his sweet, pink lips that are smiling, smiling right at Blaine.
“You’re – wow. Kurt.”
“Blaine,” Kurt breathes out and it’s that one breathless word that has Blaine crying, tears falling from his eyes as he presses his hand to his mouth to quell the sobs.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just,” Blaine hiccups, “today has been so stressful, but it’s you, it’s you and I’m just happy, for once.”
“Oh Blaine. You always deserve to be happy.”
They sit in silence, taking everything in until Kurt looks him in the eye and runs his hand through his hair, a smile on his face like he’s happy to be where he is. Blaine aches.
But this time, it’s a good ache. It’s the ache that Kurt brings to him with that smile that makes him want to crawl through the screen and just fall asleep right next to him, happy.
Happy.
He’s happy. Right now, looking at Kurt who is miles and miles away is making him so happy he could scream. He wants this feeling to last.
“God, this is perfect,” Kurt laughs out, looking back at Blaine with shiny eyes. “This is utterly perfect. You’re perfect, Blaine.”
Blaine blushes and looks down, smiling at his hands in his lap. “Not as perfect as you, Sir.” The title rolls off his lips like it belongs there. He shivers.
He hears Kurt inhale and then he looks up and notices the way Kurt is clutching his thigh.
“While…” Kurt clears his throat, sits up and jostles the laptop a little, “while we’re here, and before we go any further, we should establish some boundaries for…” Kurt waves a hand, smiles at Blaine, “this.”
“Okay, Sir,” Blaine says, and sits himself up higher. He wants to be good and listen to Kurt.
“Does this feel alright to you?” Kurt’s eyes are concerned as he gestures between them again. “Right now, talking about this, you call me Sir – how does it make you feel? How…how far are you willing to go, like this?”
Blaine furrows his eyebrows, tilts his head, “What do you mean, Sir? Would this not just be…Skype sex?”
Kurt chuckles gently, looking down at his comforter. “Blaine, I don’t think of scenes with my subs as just sex. Ever. It’s about a lot more than that, and it doesn’t have to have anything to do with that. This is not any different.”
Kurt leans a bit closer, and Blaine gets caught up in his eyes, brightened by the light and his spirit. “You…you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to get naked, you don’t have to see me naked, whatever. I can try my hand at talking you into subspace even,” Kurt leans back with a smirk, “I’ve heard my dirty talk is quite amazing.”
Blaine laughs, blushing up to his roots. When Kurt says it, it all sounds a bit daunting. What if he’s not good enough for Kurt? What if Kurt doesn’t enjoy his body? What if his scars push Kurt away?
“And I promise I will love anything you give to me, Blaine,” He looks up, catches his eye and flashes Kurt a nervous smile to match his reassuring one. His stomach flutters.
“I think…I think I want it all, Sir,” Blaine says, and looks up at Kurt, trying to convey that he’s scared but Kurt makes him a little less scared.
“Explain for me what you don’t want, Blaine,” And Kurt is so patient, so genuinely caring that Blaine has to close his eyes, clutch his stomach and breathe through his nose. Kurt makes him so happy.
“I want anything with you, for you, Sir,” Blaine finds himself saying, and god it’s true.
“You’re sweet,” Blaine catches the fond look Kurt gives him. “But I really do need you to set your hard limits. I know you say everything but my everything could be very different from your everything.”
Blaine sits back, thinks. He hasn’t done this before but he’s watched a lot of videos and read a lot of posts. He thinks he genuinely does want to try everything at least once, but Kurt isn’t asking for that, at least not yet.
“Um…just, don’t – don’t mention the fact that my parents are downstairs, like ever, okay?” Blaine shakes his head against the self-hatred, looks away from Kurt’s caring eyes. “Please do not call me…worthless. Or a slut. Please.”
“You know I don’t think those things about you, Blaine,” Kurt says, and Blaine looks back to him, watches him lean closer to the screen, “and you know they’re not true.”
“I know I’m not a slut…” even if he does feel a bit disgusting sometimes. Like too many people have touched him, too many people have soiled and sullied things he didn’t know could be.
“And you’re not worthless either,” Kurt says, and the finality rings in the air.
“I know…” he opens his eyes, catches Kurt’s and tries to tell him that he’s on his way to maybe believing it.
--
“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous, Blaine,” Kurt pants, and Blaine moans into the cloth of his tie, watching Kurt stroke himself.
“Add another finger, Blaine,” Kurt says and Blaine nods, spreading his legs a bit wider and adding the third one.
“Does that feel good, Blaine?” Kurt purrs at him and Blaine has to nod, bucking his hips against the sting. “Stretched around practically nothing, no release for your hard cock?”
Blaine groans, wishes he could lick up the spit dripping from his mouth but that somehow makes this that much more erotic. He pumps his fingers a little bit faster, making sure to brush his prostate. His arm hurts from how long Kurt has had him draw this out, finger after finger and so slow.
“Nod once for green, twice for yellow and three times for red,” Kurt breathes out, and the sounds coming from through the computer screen slow down.
Blaine gives a jerky nod, works his hips up and onto his fingers, spread so wide he knows there isn’t a thing Kurt can’t see and god he loves it like that. Like this.
“Take your fingers out,” Blaine obeys, whining at the loss, “spread your legs a little wider for me,” Blaine obeys again, panting into the gag. For a moment Kurt just watches him as he pumps his own cock, barely making a sound as he does. Blaine’s pleasure doesn’t descend from the high place it’s been at for so long, doesn’t dip even a little as he watches Kurt watch him.
Kurt’s fist moves a little faster and he says, “Touch yourself, I want to see you come for me, darling.”
Blaine wraps his hand around his cock and tugs, twists the head between his fingers and works himself up to it. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve laid eyes on, Blaine,” Kurt says, voice rising higher and higher as he comes over his fist.
Blaine moans into the gag and follows after, wave after wave of pleasure rolling down his spine and leaving him sated.
--
Blaine wants to say that it’s enough, that seeing Kurt is enough. But the truth is, when his mother and father are downstairs yelling about one thing or the other, it’s not enough. Those are the days when he feels worthless.
He wants to touch Kurt, he wants Kurt to make him feel something other than the self-hatred that beats itself into his chest whenever downstairs they say something particularly hateful to each other. He wants Kurt to tie him down, take away his senses because a lot of the time he feels like he doesn’t even deserves to be alive. He swallows pills when the throbbing is a little too much and falls asleep to them still yelling.
And there are other times, when he sits on his bed and makes another scar for everything they yelled at him as they beat him to the ground, for every cruel word that they made true when they impressed their hatred into his heart
Stroking himself on top of his bed to filthy videos, getting off to things that make him ache for something he can’t have, and then feeling sick with himself as he spills over his fist.
Because he is truly, utterly disgusting, looking for something that should be for adults and adults only, something that he still doesn’t quite understand.
So, just seeing Kurt is not enough because when he feels all of those things, there’s no one around to take the blade or the pills away because no one actually cares.
Besides Kurt, and sometimes it feels like Kurt isn’t even real.
---
His reflection is nice, despite all the ugly things he’s currently feeling. He looks like a proper schoolboy, on the outside, one without scars and one without a twisted need deep in his belly for something he can’t have. He closes his eyes and wraps his arms around himself, breathing deeply through his nose.
Blaine knows what he needs. He needs Sir, his Sir, his Kurt.
For a second, just a brief second he imagines him behind him, wrapping his arms around him and kissing the back of his head, reassuring him because no one else will, because he’s the only one that ever would. Blaine doesn’t want to feel ashamed, but he can’t help it, he does. But he can’t do this alone, he needs somebody even if that somebody is someone he’s just made up, someone to keep him occupied, someone he misses even though he’s never met them.
Blaine doesn’t think he can walk into a new school alone, nearly defenseless, but he will because he has too. But he can imagine, and he can hope that there will be someone there for him, someone who cares if his arms ache that day.
His sleeves are long – always long and his pants are loose because it – it hurts if anything is too tight. Besides that tie around his neck, no; he wants to tighten the tie farther and farther around his neck going, going until someone tells him to stop, until Kurt, Kurt with his strong hands and kind eyes and muscled arms brings him away from the edge.
With a sigh he lets the image drop away from his mind, picking up his bag and glancing at his reflection to make sure that nothing is out of place, before walking down the stairs of a still quiet house and leaving without a goodbye.
---
Dalton is a large place, Blaine soon finds out. There are a lot of corridors and a lot of art pieces and a lot of history, but above it all there are a lot of students, masses of teenage bodies in one place at any given time.
It’s a little too much for Blaine, and he clenches his eyes as he stands with his back to a wall, schedule gripped tightly in his hand. Usually, they told him, he would have been assigned someone to show him the ropes, but things were just so busy today, and he’d be fine, they said.
He’s starting to hyperventilate, his chest constricting tightly, and the tie feels loose now, so he brings a hand up and holds it to his throat, trying to breathe through his nose. He is in a mostly secluded area so no one finds him and no one would think to come looking for him because who does he know? Who would care?
You’re okay, Blaine. It’s on repeat in his mind you’re okay, you’re okay, you’ll be okay.
Blaine wrenches his eyes open when the bell rings and students start rushing from one place to another and he forces himself away from the wall, straightening his jacket and looking at his schedule to find his room again.
221B. Okay. He can do this.
Find the classroom, slip in, give the teacher his information, find a seat and say nothing unless required. Simple. He can do this.
---
It’s five to ten minutes of wandering but soon enough Blaine’s standing in front of 221. He stands outside the door, pepping himself for the impending embarrassment at being nearly fifteen minutes late.
He presses a trembling hand to his heart, slowly traveling up to his throat, squeezing at the base slightly. His eyes close and he’s pretending, once again, that there’s someone behind him, someone telling him that he’s good, he’s going to be fine, that it’ll be okay. Someone who means it, someone who believes in the words they’re whispering in his ear.
With one last deep breath he walks in, expecting the usual, eyes on him, voices lowering, but instead there is nothing but a lot of empty desks, not a student in sight. He looks around for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, and breaths starting to layer over each other.
A million options race through his mind, all of them centering on the fact that he’s stupid, this is all wrong.
“Um, hello?” He doesn’t get very far in his panic before there’s a voice calling out to him, pulling him out of his self-doubt, for just a moment.
And he looks up, and spins around, and meets the eyes that will always, always,make him ache.
-
Blaine thinks this is the type of moment that authors describe – where it really feels like you’re suspended in space.
His breath is short, shorter than it was, and now everything feels too tight on his body. He’s standing there, looking into Kurt’s eyes and he doesn’t have one fucking word.
Kurt is finally here, Kurt is here, and Blaine is utterly choked.
His grip loosens slowly on his bag and it hits the ground with a thud but Blaine can’t find anything in him to care enough.
And Kurt, god, Kurt is just staring, not saying a word or moving an inch. Staring at him and this time there’s no medium between them. He could reach out and touch if he wanted to, and god does he want to.
He sees it when it registers in Kurt’s eyes – he blinks multiple times and straightens his back, fixing his tie.
“Can I help you? Do you have the wrong class?”
Blaine blinks and feels tears coming on because it feels so right, hearing Kurt’s voice in real life. “Kurt.”
It’s all he can actually vocalize, and he finds himself taking steps forward, hand twitching upwards as he reaches for Kurt. He wants to pull him in and fucking smell him, bury himself inside of Kurt and never come out.
“Stop. Tell me your class so I can help you find it,” At this Blaine finally looks up at Kurt and he stops moving towards him, startled by the look in his eyes.
It’s familiar to Blaine but at the same time it’s not. Kurt’s whole face has hardened, his eyes and face shifting into a mode Blaine can only refer to as Sir, and Blaine wants to kneel, he wants to kneel right there on the dirty classroom floor.
But it’s the utter fear in Kurt’s eyes that stops Blaine from throwing himself at Kurt’s feet, and has him shakily handing over his schedule. He watches Kurt scan the page, chewing on his bottom lip before looking up to the side and motioning Blaine to follow him.
Blaine does, picking up his bag and shuffling over to a door on the side of Kurt’s room and waiting as Kurt unlocks it and gestures him in. Blaine looks at all the other kids who have looked up at the interruption and feels sick again, because this day just keeps getting worse and worse.
“My room is, ah – 221A. It’s okay. Common mistake. They should really label everything. Have a good day.”
And Kurt is finally looking Blaine in the eye, saying a lot with a glance. His eyes are wide and glistening, and they are so scared and Blaine doesn’t understand a lot, but for now, he understands this:
Just let it be. Please.
“Thanks Mr. Hummel.”
--
The rest of Blaine’s day is uneventful. He gets to every class late because he doesn’t know where anything is, but all the teachers brush it off with a smile.
He doesn’t learn much, even though they definitely teach. His thoughts are focused on Kurt, even more so than usual, but he can’t bring his brain to actually jot down notes when Kurt, Sir, is currently in the same building as him.
It’s unfathomable to Blaine, that after a summer of want, a summer of raw need that he could very well have Kurt.
But Kurt had made it clear with his eyes, telling him to go to class and leave it alone because there was nothing they could do. Blaine doesn’t want to wait, though. Kurt is here, Kurt can finally be his and Blaine can’t go another day not knowing, six hours was torture enough.
And god, Blaine is itching for Kurt to have him, for Kurt to finally do all the filthy things he’s said he would to him, for Kurt to finally mark his body like they’ve each been craving and Blaine shifts in his seat, making his decision.
Blaine stands in front of 221A, takes a deep breath and tries the handle. It’s unlocked, and he walks in to find Kurt sitting at his desk, glasses perched on his nose as he grades papers. Blaine stands in the doorway for a second, watching as Kurt marks papers, going through them with determination. Blaine almost sighs – looking at Kurt in person is much more fulfilling than staring at him through a screen and only wishing he could touch.
Now, Blaine takes a step in and closes the door, watching as Kurt looks up at the sound.Blaine smiles tentatively when their eyes meet, locking the door. Kurt stands up, and Blaine cannot, he cannot stop himself from rushing forward, locking his arms around Kurt as tears well up in his eyes.
God, Blaine has never felt so good. Pressing his body to Kurt is better than he imagined and he just longs for all the layers to dissipate, foranything separating their bodies to disappear so Blaine can wrap himself around Kurt.
It’s only then that Blaine realizes that Kurt is not hugging him back; in fact, Kurt is tensed in his arms, hands stiff at his sides. Blaine frowns and runs a hand up Kurt’s back, relishing in the feel of muscle beneath his fingers.
Kurt starts resisting, sliding his hands up and to Blaine’s shoulders, gently moving him away from him. “Blaine, this is inappropriate.”
Blaine frowns and takes a step closer because he doesn’t understand, why is Kurt retreating from him? He reaches out a hand, but Kurt backs out of his way.
“Kurt, please, I don’t understand,” Blaine swallows against the tears because everything is feeling dark again. He grabs his forearm and brings it across his stomach, hardly able to breathe.
Kurt is leaving him.
“We can’t do this Blaine, not here – “
Blaine jumps at the chance, reaching out to Kurt again and feeling like a child when he’s rejected. “I know, I know. Let’s just, go, okay? And we can talk about it just – stop running from me, please.”
Blaine feels like all of the wounds Kurt has closed, like everything he has helped heal is becoming undone. His body is itching, itching to drop to the floor and beg for his Sir’s mercy, because Blaine is so sorry for whatever he’s done. He follows his instincts, because maybe that is what Sir wants. He drops his bag and lowers himself to his knees, spreading his thighs and bowing his back, finally letting his tears fall.
“Sir, please. Please take me home,” And when Blaine says home Blaine means, home, with Kurt. He wants to be laid out under Kurt’s hand, panting into his arm as Kurt decides where he wants it to go tonight, knowing they will start over tomorrow. Blaine wants to wake up with Kurt’s strong arm around him, squeezing against his waist as he nuzzles into his hair.
Blaine wants it all – Blaine thought he had it all, but it is slipping away, slipping away so fast Blaine can hardly touch it.
“No, -- fuck, Blaine,” Kurt doesn’t sound like he knows what to do, but at this point Blaine would take anything, he would take anything from Kurt.
“Okay, okay,” Blaine sees Kurt’s slacks in his line of sight, and suddenly his head is being tilted upwards, his eyes going up to the ceiling.
“Blaine, look at me,” Blaine does, and he’s startled by the blue, startled by Kurt’s face directly in front of his.
“Blaine, I need you to come back to me. You’re drifting, but I need you here. If you insist on talking about this we will talk, but you have to be here. Come back to me. “
Blaine blinks, trying to register Kurt’s words. When it finally hits he scrambles up, tears flowing more freely now.
“I just…I don’t know what you want from me…” Blaine knows he sounds helpless, he sounds lost, but he is lost. Kurt is sending him mixed signals and Blaine’s picking up on them all and he can’t decipher what Kurt wants.
Blaine knows what he wants. He wants to be Kurt’s, completely and irrevocably.
“I know but I don’t want anything – “ Blaine sucks in a sharp breath, scrambling for his bag because Kurt has said it, this is over.
Kurt does not want him, and Blaine won’t push. He’s hyperventilating now, everything dizzy. His whole body is aching right now, including his head and now he wants to be at home, tucked into his bed so he can go back to crying alone.
“Fuck! Blaine, listen to me,” Kurt yanks him around by the shoulder, making his bag drop to the floor, and suddenly Blaine is being pushed against the whiteboard, his chest against Kurt’s.
“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, calm down, please,” The feeling of Kurt pressed to him is making everything slow down, making everything move in slow motion.
“Just breathe. Match your breaths to mine.” Blaine obeys, sucking in deeps breaths in time to Kurt’s. Kurt is solid against him, restricting his breath in the good way, assuring him that Kurt is there, for no matter how long he may need.
Kurt pulls back after a minute, and Blaine looks up at him, nuzzling against the hand stroking his cheek. Kurt looks to be contemplating something, his nose pinched up. Blaine wants to kiss his nose, tell him he’s sorry for making him feel bad.
“Blaine, god, Blaine,” Kurt starts, sucking in a breath. “You’re the most gorgeous, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” Kurt’s arms wrap around his waist, his back still to the whiteboard, but Blaine brings his arms up around Kurt’s neck anyways, and does not complain. He’s lucky, right now. Kurt is saying these wonderful things to him and Blaine wants to revel in the words Kurt is whispering to him.
“Of course I want you,” Kurt’s lips brush across his forehead and Blaine closes his eyes, feeling as if his body is about to sink right into Kurt’s.
“Then take me home,” Blaine can’t help but say it. That’s all he wants right now, to be with Kurt. This is a messy, terrifying situation but just laying with Kurt would make everything better.
Kurt inhales sharply again, his lips thinning against Blaine’s forehead. They’re quiet for a moment and Blaine dares to let himself hope, let his world build itself up and up and –
“We can’t,” Kurt is pulling away from him, taking his whole world with him and Blaine slumps against the whiteboard, already crying again. He closes his eyes. He’s going to go home, open any ice cream he has and weep until he upheaves his own heart.
“Hey, none of that,” Kurt rests a hand on Blaine’s neck, stroking the tendons there. “You know we can’t.”
“Please?” Blaine will beg. He will.
“No. You know that,” Kurt is stern, looking at him with fondness in his eyes and Blaine wants to scream because he wants it too, of course he does.
“However, this is what’s going to happen,” Blaine looks up, traitorous hope settling at the pit of his stomach.
Kurt smiles at him, still stroking his neck. “You’re going to go home, okay? I want you to eat something, anything you want, and I want you to finish your homework. I know they gave you some, it’s Dalton.” Blaine smiles because it’s funny, and Kurt is smiling because Blaine is smiling and if this isn’t the most unusual cycle of things.
“Do whatever chores you have for your parents, and then do whatever you want. Go to bed at some reasonable time. Please. For me.”
For you. Blaine can do anything for Kurt, they both know that.
“And then tomorrow, I want you to come in a little early, and help me set up for the day, okay? And we’ll just talk, like we usually do. Everything will be fine. This is not…this is not something we could have accounted for, okay.”
“Please don’t let this get to you, Blaine,” Blaine feels a hand stroke across his wrist and Blaine feels his dick throb and his heart beat harder at the touch to his cuts. “I know this is hard and not what we were expecting, but we have to try. I will do my best to find us both some type of balance because Blaine, I can’t let you go, but don’t worry about that, okay? I just need you to try. ”
Blaine can’t express how good it feels, how grounded he feels to have something to follow, something Sir has told him to do. He’s going to follow every order to the dime, and he’s going to feel good while he does it.
“We have to be very careful, alright?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Never call me that where people can hear you, okay?” Blaine nods, looking away.
“I assume this means no Skype…”
“You can always text or call me if you need anything, but no, I don’t think it’s best for either of us if we Skype each other,” Kurt squeezes the side of his neck, and Blaine feels the smile directed at him.
Blaine nods, contemplates asking it for a second but he needs to know, he needs to know now. “Does this mean I have permission to touch myself? When,” he lowers his voice, “when you don’t know, can I come?”
“Yes, Blaine. But…I would prefer it if you texted or called me before you try anything like gagging yourself, alright? Regular orgasms are fine, but if you feel the need to be dominated, well. I find that a valid excuse for needing to call me, alright?”
“Will I not get to see you outside of school at all?”
“You’ll see me before and after, if you like. I told you I can’t let you go, not completely.” And Kurt smiles at him, smiles at him with an assurance that Blaine feels in his bones.
Blaine smiles up at Kurt gently, trying to blink away his tears. He’s going to stop crying – and he’s going to do as Kurt has asked.
He will do anything Kurt asks.
---
Blaine knocks on Kurt’s classroom door tentatively, trying to not look suspicious, even if he couldn’t help the anxious way he kept shifting. He had missed Kurt, and he was aching to get inside where Kurt was and wrap his arms around him.
Blaine finds the door unlocked when there is no answer and he finds Kurt at his desk, foot tapping at the floor in what Blaine can only deem a nervous twitch. Besides that little tick Kurt is a determined statue, pouring over papers and marking them resolutely.
Blaine admires his outfit for the day, an emerald, collared shirt stretching over his chest and bringing out the blond highlights in his hair, paired with a midnight colored tie.
Kurt is gorgeous, Kurt is, “Sir.” He says it out loud because Kurt has finally looked up at him, eyes shining brightly as he takes him in.
They stare at each other for a moment before Kurt blinks and looks away, down to the papers, to the window at the top of the class, to his computer screen.
Blaine watches as Kurt closes his eyes and seems to compose himself before he stands up and smiles at Blaine, running a hand down his stomach, “Hello Blaine.”
“Hey K – Mr. Hummel,” Blaine winces, dropping his bag as he starts towards Kurt, arms open, expecting a hug.
“Blaine, stop.”
Blaine stops, lowering his arms in defeat and hanging his head. There are no tears this time, just the stinging burn of rejection to match the burning of his back, the pulse of his forearm.
“Sorry,” His voice is thick with emotion, swallowing dryly. He shakes his shoulders, standing up straight and trying to let it roll off his back.
He has to get used to the fact that no matter how much he wants him, no matter how hard his heart clenches when around Kurt, he has to get used to the fact that he can’t have him.
There’s so much going against them in so many ways, and it is obvious Kurt’s not going to let anything happen. So Blaine will be content to take what he can, even if it means waking up an hour early and bringing Kurt his favorite coffee, even if it means a few more cuts whenever he can’t do it alone.
“So, what did you need me to help you with?” Blaine forces a smile, picking up his bag and moving it from the middle of the floor.
“Blaine – “
Blaine can hardly look at Kurt. He can’t force himself to meet his eyes and see the longing he knows is there but he’ll never be able to feel. Blaine shakes his head, pulling out his phone and checking the time just to have something to do. They still have about an hour before his next class, and even then it’s right next door.
He breathes in through his nose, tugging at his sleeve and letting the scent of freshener wash over him. Blaine has to crack a smile; it’s so like Kurt to have a plug-in to keep his room fresh. Kurt is very meticulous about things, Blaine has learned. From the way he styles his hair in the morning to the way he instructs Blaine to touch himself, watching intently through the computer screen and –
Blaine doesn’t know a lot of things, but he knows Kurt. He knows Kurt wants this just as much as him, but he also knows that Kurt has too much integrity to let them have what they want.
“I love the way it smells in here,” Blaine says, walking around Kurt’s classroom. All of the desks are straightened to perfection, so Blaine walks down the rows slowly, running his fingertips across each one. Underneath the desks are textbooks, and Blaine bends down to pick one up.
“You teach History?” Blaine asks, surprised. He turns around to see Kurt shuffling his papers, nodding his head to Blaine’s question. He’d known Kurt had a teaching degree, but if they talked about his job it was always about Broadway roles – teaching was only mentioned once. Kurt hadn’t even told him he was moving back to Ohio, just that his dad was sick in Ohio. It had made Kurt so sad just to mention it in passing; Blaine had figured he’d talk to him on his own.
Guess not.
Look at them now.
“Help me grade some papers, yeah?” Blaine agrees, taking the seat Kurt offers him from at his desk and accepting the pen he hands to him as well. He can’t help but feel special, sitting in Kurt’s plushy chair behind his desk, his computer screen still unlocked before him.
Kurt is behind him, pointing at the papers, “Multiple choice are worth 2 points and response questions are worth ten. Got it?”
Blaine looks up at Kurt over his shoulder and smiles at him, nodding his head. Kurt smiles back at him for a second, a hand resting on his shoulder as they maintain eye contact.
Their eyes stay locked for a moment and for one pleasantly hopeful second as he watches all the conflicting emotions flit over his face -- eyebrows scrunching up, his bottom lip being pulled between his teeth -- Blaine let’s himself think that Kurt’s going to lean down and kiss him on the lips, leaving behind his inhibitions and caution. Blaine let’s himself hope Kurt was going to reach down and wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him to his chest and kissing Blaine until he couldn’t feel anymore of his scars.
But Kurt shakes his head and pulls away, his hand dragging across Blaine’s back and Blaine feels the touch for the rest of the day.
---
Kurt had said to not let it get to him, so Blaine – he tries. He tries not to let the weight of rejection hold him down, he tries not to let Kurt’s distance and hesitance undo all the good Kurt has inflicted upon him.
Blaine thinks that he will always be grateful for Kurt: his smiles, his wit, his kindness, his compassion – the list goes on. He’s not going to let a bad circumstance drag him all the way back down.
So he sucks it up and brings Kurt coffee every morning, his back aching from where they pushed him to the ground and his right hand pressing to his left forearm in an attempt to feel anything but rejection as he hands Kurt the cup and Kurt still won’t touch him passed a fleeting nudge. He needs more; he needs what he once had – what they once had. He needs and wants it back, but he can’t have it.
He breathes in through his nose and hands Kurt another coffee.
He’s not going to let it get to him.
---
“You know what you should do?” Kurt asks him one day, sitting next to him at his desk. Blaine glances up from the worksheet he’s grading to find Kurt impossibly close to him, closer than usual and Blaine takes a deep breath, looking back down to the paper.
“No – what?” He feels Kurt shift away and Blaine sighs, marking a wrong answer.
“Join the Warblers,” Blaine immediately stiffens at Kurt’s words, stilling in his marks. Why, why would Kurt suggest that when he knows – he knows.
“You know I can’t do that,” Blaine says, standing up. It’s time for him to go, apparently. But Kurt grabs his hand, pulling him back to the chair in a firm motion.
“You can,” Kurt says, and Blaine refuses to look at him, “You can, and I know you want to.” Kurt hasn’t let go of his hand yet and for the first time Blaine finds himself tugging away, disconnecting their hands. Kurt’s asking the impossible of him, asking him to do something that stirs up so many memories, the phantom ache of his hip bone.
“Goodbye Kurt, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Blaine says, and leaves.
---
Later that night, Blaine finds himself holding his cellphone in one hand and his bottle of Vicodin in another. He feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest, and his stomach is clenched in tight on himself. He’s sweating, and he just wants to feel better.
The Vicodin could take it away for a moment or two, but Kurt may have the power to actually convince him it’s okay.
And plus, he wants to hear Kurt’s voice.
He always wants to hear Kurt.
He calls Kurt.
Kurt picks up with, “Blaine, why are you calling so late are you alright?”
“I need…” he trails off, swallows, “I need something.” He doesn’t quite know what. He just needs for it to feel better.
There’s a silence and then, “Like? Blaine, you know you have to give me specifics.”
“I don’t know!” Blaine whisper yells into his pillow. He turns his head to the side to talk clearly and feels the tears run towards his ears. “I just know I have so much work and I only have the stupid pills and my head hurts and my back hurts and god I just want to sing and I know I can’t and I just want to take it all away.”
“Blaine,” Kurt’s voice is strong. “Sit up,” Blaine does, “pick up the bottle of pills, and walk to the bathroom.”
Blaine follows the orders, not quite sure where this is going but his heart doesn’t feel so tight anymore, listening to Kurt’s voice giving orders.
“Blaine Anderson, I don’t have enough words to describe what a beautiful, strong person you are,” Kurt starts, and Blaine looks up, into the mirror. His eyes are bagged and his hair is crumpled. “You astound me with your will to be alive, Blaine. I’ve never seen someone who enjoys life quite like you do. And you deserve it, you deserve your happy life.”
There’s shuffling, and Blaine realizes he’s crying, “I know things seem hard right now, with me and you and I’m sorry I can’t give you want you want and I’m sorry I even mentioned the Warblers today.”
“Our circumstance is not your fault, Kurt,” he says quietly, but Kurt only grunts and keeps going.
“I just want to see that shine in you again, Blaine. I know it’s there, and it’s the most joyous thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. You have a life to live, you have great things to achieve.”
Blaine wipes at his face, looks back up into the mirror. He wants so badly to believe what Kurt has said to him, but he looks into the mirror and just sees a red faced, crumpled, defeated mess.
“Set the bottle down in the bathroom, out of your room,” Kurt says, and it’s a clear order that Blaine follows. His chest feels a little lighter with it, knowing he’s obeying Kurt. “And promise me that you’ll only use them when you need them for pain. And if you feel like you need them for anything other than pain, you have to call me. I will answer, and if I don’t, I want you to talk into my voicemail until you feel better. Go outside, take a walk. Distance yourself from it, and remember that I think you’re the most amazing person to grace my life.”
“You are so much better than you think, and I am so proud to know someone with such resilience. It feels like the end right now, but I promise, it’s not. And I will always be here for you.”
---
It stings as his mother laughs, high-pitched and awkward, “Oh honey, you’re not going anywhere.”
“But – “ He tries to protest, but it dies in his throat at his father’s look.
It stings when she pats his hand and smiles at him, grabbing the hand, “After…everything…are you sure you want to go out there alone?”
Blaine’s mind, heart, soul is screaming at him, screaming at him to rip his hand away and tell her yes, I’d rather be out there alone than trapped here.
But he doesn’t say anything, instead watching as she goes back to cooking, talking about how he can just go to the Columbus University and how he could commute from home. Blaine’s breath is coming much shorter than it was, little puffs that barely escape.
He turns around and leaves the room, stumbling up the stairs with the feeling of pressure on his chest.
He drops to his bed, stuffing his face in his pillow. He doesn’t want a lot, he doesn’t ask for much.
All I can recall ever asking for, he thinks as he reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out pills, swallowing a couple dry and grimacing when they get stuck in his throat, is to be happy. He covers his face, lays back and tries not to think about how disappointed Kurt would be if he knew.
He remembers a time when Cooper was still living at home, playing around with him like older siblings do. Cooper had taken his truck, holding it over his head as Blaine reached for it. He remembers thinking, and then saying, “That’s not fair!”
And Cooper had laughed, patted his head and danced out, shouting, “Life isn’t fair, Squirt!”
Now that Blaine’s older he realizes that’s true –but only because no one cares enough to make life fair, for those who have it a little harder. He’s always going to be the underdog, no matter how well he sings or dances or plays sports.
However, when he was seven he didn’t know that stuff, so he began working for it, working to be the perfect person so he wouldn’t have his toys taken away anymore.
Now he lays back and lets it wash over him, giving up. There’s no one he can be good for anymore, no one who cares enough that everything he’s been doing will pay off.
Except for Kurt, but sometimes he has to wonder if this situation with Kurt will ever amount to anything or if he’s just going to be constantly grasping for straws that are not there. He wonders if there’s going to be a time when he’s not going to be holed up in his room, scissors to his arm and mind fuzzy, vision blurry with his own self-hatred.
He wonders if he’ll ever stop wanting to take a couple more pills, hoping they’ll take the edge off permanently.
Blaine calls Kurt, because that’s the only thing he knows of for sure, right now. Even if Kurt doesn’t want him, Kurt cares enough to talk him away from the ledge.
It rings twice before Kurt picks up, “Blaine, Blaine, are you okay? Why are you calling me?”
“Kurt,” his tongue feels thick in his mouth and he swallows around the word, feeling as though he’s falling apart too fast.
“Blaine, talk to me,” Kurt’s voice is rising in pitch, worry etching its way into his tone and Blaine frowns, Kurt shouldn’t feel like that.
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” He smiles lazily, stretching his body out on the bed. “Just…” He trails off, throwing an arm across his face because why had he called Kurt again?
“Blaine, I need you to listen to me. Are you listening?” Blaine sits up at Kurt’s serious tone, his eyebrows pinching together regretfully. He’s fucked up again, it seemed.
“Yeah, I’m listening,” Blaine says, groaning as he stretches out more and everything begins to ache.
“Okay. Where are you? Are you safe?”
“Home. As safe as I can be, here.”
“Are your mom and dad home?”
“Yeah… They’re downstairs doing something or other. Barely even know I’m up here.” Blaine is aware of the bitterness that laces his tone but he can’t bring himself to care, he doesn’t care. They can’t bring themselves to care that their son is just upstairs on the verge of something so horrible, too busy plotting out his life plans for him.
“What have you taken?”Blaine laughs bitterly, tears flowing down his face. He sniffles, clenching his eyes and trying to will it away because it’s not even morning and he already regrets it, he can already feel the burn building back up.
“A couple of Vicodin.” He hears Kurt inhales very sharply before there’s some rustling, things being shut and opened.
“Christ, Blaine, I told you to call me before you took the pills.”
“Sorry,” Blaine murmurs.
“I’m coming to get you. Be outside when I text you.”
“But my parents – “
Kurt cuts him off with a hiss and Blaine can never remember ever hearing Kurt sound so angry, so sincere in something. “I don’t give a damn about your parents Blaine. Pack clothes for two nights and be outside when I text you.”
It’s an order, a direct order that makes Blaine’s body thrum through the haze. He picks himself up, pressing the phone to his ear as he thinks that maybe Kurt will finally save him.
“Oh – okay, Sir,” It slips out without a second thought, second nature to him by now. Somewhere down the line he hears Kurt sigh and Blaine bows his head in defeat.
Things are not changing.
---
Kurt helps him out of his car and into his house, an arm slung over his shoulder and a steady arm around his waist to keep him from falling over.
Everything is dulled but, at the same time, moving way too fast for him. The opposing sensations are going to make him puke anytime soon, of that he’s sure. He’s hardly able to spare Kurt’s house an appreciative once over before he’s being deposited into Kurt’s bed.
Blaine thinks he should be more ecstatic because he’s finally in Kurt’s bed, but he’s starting to sweat now, everything too tight and warm on his body.
Kurt is there for him when he starts struggling against his coat, helping him slip it off and then wriggle out of his pants.
Blaine’s eyes are drooping now but on the last dregs of his coherency he catches Kurt staring at him with a pensive expression on his face, his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed.
“What – “ Blaine has to swallow again, his throat too dry to speak, “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Kurt sighs, pulling back the covers and helping Blaine slide under them carefully. Blaine goes willingly, but he has to reach out for Kurt’s hand at the same time, gently tugging at him.
“Come to bed with me?”
Blaine immediately closes his eyes against the impending rejection after he says it, because god, he’ll never learn to keep his mouth shut, will he?
Kurt does not want him, Kurt does not want him. Not like that, not right now, he knows. Kurt has made it clear, and somewhere in his mind, Blaine understands that, even if his heart won’t cooperate and makes him say stupid things, makes him want for things he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get again. A few seconds pass and Blaine is about to open his mouth and – say something. Apologize for being the dumb young kid he is, apologize for not letting the rejection sink in, apologize for failing to always keep Kurt happy.
He doesn’t get a word out though, because then Kurt is off the bed and Blaine opens his eyes, eyes already glistening with tears, his thigh suddenly throbbing. Kurt is, though, stripping down his clothes and Blaine watches in awe as inches of skin are revealed to him.
Kurt’s body is even more gorgeous in real life than it is through a computer screen, skin stretched taut over his defined muscles. Blaine watches him strip down to only his briefs, never looking at Blaine as he does it, dropping his clothes into a hamper at the side of the room.
Blaine is, once again, hit by the urge to just touch Kurt, every inch of him. Blaine wants to reach out and worship his body as Kurt guides him by his hair, smooth skin sliding under his lips as he kisses and sucks and bites everything he can, everything he has permission to.
Kurt gives him a small smile, stepping out of his jeans and sliding into the bed with Blaine, whispering a soft, “Scoot over, then.”
Blaine immediately does, and before he can hesitate and freak out over being in the same bed as Kurt, Kurt is wrapping his arms around him and pulling him face first into his chest. Blaine throws his arms around Kurt’s neck, pressing himself fully into him as he throws a leg across Kurt’s hip.
He’s not going anywhere, not this time.