Notes: Sequel to Good (You Know What I Mean)
Kurt and Blaine didn't go out in Blaine's Impala very often. It was too eye-catching and easily recognizable as Blaine's. Even though they only ever parked in concealed, out-of-the-way, and abandoned places, Kurt worried about people seeing them coming and going.
Usually they used Kurt's DeSoto Carry-All. Mr. Hummel had bought a dinged up one for cheap for Kurt's fifteenth birthday, and Kurt had fixed it up himself. It was sleek and black so it blended into the night; the seats weren't as wide as the Impala's, but with the backseat lowered they could lie down together in the back.
The backseat had always been folded down, and anyone passing by the window could see that there was a blanket resting in the corner of the trunk as well. It was brazenly suggestive, and it made wholesome girls avoid him. Blaine understood now that was one of the reasons that Kurt did it. He had no interest in dating or eventually marrying; he claimed he could cook, sew, and clean better than any woman he knew, and when it came to companionship…
Kurt was never stingy with compliments when they were alone together, and he was always the most appreciative of Blaine's most masculine features: the prickle of stubble he got some nights, his muscles, the trail of hair that ran down from his navel.
And his cock. Kurt was always so eager to see it, touch it, rub against it. It made Blaine giddy and nervous at the same time. The more attention Kurt lavished on him, the more self-conscious he became - but also the more flattered, gratified, and fearless. No matter how often they managed to park or how late they stayed out, Blaine always ended the night with a deep ache for… more. Blaine didn't know how else to describe it; he didn't even know if there were words for it.
They did things - wonderful, nameless things - but Kurt would only go inside of him if it were a dry run. Puck bought prophylactics by the (aptly named, Kurt said) gross and gave Kurt a box every other month or so, still working under the false assumption that he and Brittany were doing the do.
(Kurt did drive Brittany to Lima Heights every Tuesday night. For over a month he refused to tell Blaine why; he never did, in fact. Brittany was the one that surprised him at school one day, pulled him into an empty classroom, and told him that Kurt essentially acted as a lookout while Brittany had "dates" in the backseat of his car. With another girl.
Blaine never did meet her, which was something that Kurt said he should be thankful for. The only thing he knew about her was that she smoked cigars: Kurt complained about having to forbid her from doing so inside his DeSoto.)
Blaine wouldn't have minded doing it without a rubber. In fact, he thought he might like that. Sometimes, on the nights after Kurt had dropped him off at home, he would lie in bed and think about it. He wondered how it would feel, how hot it would be, how long it would take to drip out…
He didn't know how to ask for it and Kurt was meticulous about cleaning up afterward, anyway. Everything was wiped up and thrown away, and as soon as Kurt was home he stuffed the blanket they laid out in the backseat into the washing machine. (Blaine had thought at first that was the reason that Kurt did his own laundry, but Kurt had told him that no, he just didn't trust anyone else with his clothes.) That had actually been the reason Kurt's keys had been taken away - his father had discovered Brittany's forgotten suspender belt tucked into the backseat once. Kurt told that story with an amused smirk and, "He shouldn't worry so much. If only one of his lessons has sunk in, it's not to get a girl in trouble."
To Kurt's further amusement, Mr. Hummel had returned his keys when he started spending time with Blaine, because he thought Blaine was a "good influence." Kurt couldn't act in the play: rehearsals took too much time after school that he needed to spend in the garage. He was doing "set design supervision" instead, which meant he'd come up with the design and he lambasted the stagehands during lunch for not following his instructions.
Blaine had noticed that Kurt was getting more and more irritable as his graduation drew nearer. But to be fair, the stagehands had been painting against the grain.
Some afternoons, Blaine went over to the Hummels' - ostensibly to talk about the play (and that kept Finn from trying to join in), but they always ended up lounging around Kurt's room and listening to his extensive record collection.
They kept a distance between themselves during these afternoons. Even with the door closed, Kurt usually sat as his desk or on the floor, leaning against the bed, which was where Blaine always made himself comfortable. Kurt never joined him, but he never told him to get off, either.
The only time that Kurt touched him was when he arrived and right before he left. Blaine had stumbled upon it accidentally: he'd shown up in a bow tie his first visit there, and Kurt had tsked the moment he'd seen it. He'd crossed the room and untied it without preamble, and Blaine had stood and trembled lightly with contained exhilaration as Kurt invaded his senses, sensually slipped his bow tie out of his collar, and stroked his throat as he unbuttoned the first button on his shirt.
The fleeting brushes of Kurt's fingertips were electric; it made the whole afternoon charged, and when Blaine went back home, Kurt rebuttoned the button and retied the tie.
The last time Blaine had gone shopping, he'd bought a bunch of new bow ties.
As much as Blaine liked the things they did when they parked, sometimes he thought he might like these afternoons more: listening to music, speaking casually, and stretched out on Kurt's bed. After discussing the stagehands' latest mishap - Jacob had nearly electrocuted himself - Blaine got to talking about the upcoming sock hop. Rachel had been especially excited about rallying together the former glee club members to act as the live band. So far she had Sam, Finn, Quinn, Brittany, Puck, Lauren, Mercedes, and Blaine agreeing to do it - the only holdout was Kurt.
Blaine hadn't really been trying to talk him into it; he'd just been excited about the prospect of performing and his mouth ran on when he was excited. He hadn't even been sure Kurt was paying that much attention to him - Kurt had gotten a new leather jacket, and while he'd liked the rhinestone detailing on the belt, he'd thought it could be improved upon. So he'd been sitting on the floor, back against the bed, and methodically gluing rhinestones to the belt while Blaine talked.
Suddenly he interrupted him to say, "The school's going to be frosted they have to listen to you all sing instead of Bill Haley and The Comets. I give it ten minutes before they run you off the stage and put the records on."
Blaine blinked, caught off guard by his vitriol. He was used to Kurt having an uncaring and irreverent attitude about school, but Kurt had never sounded quite so bitter about it before. "It's going to be fun," he protested.
"Well, don't let my non-participation stop you, then. You'd better hurry up and ask somebody, though." Kurt's tone turning mocking, "'It's no compliment to any girl if she thinks she's the last resort.' I'm sure Sugar would enjoy being able to say she's going with the live entertainment."
Blaine pursed his lips. He could just imagine how his father would react if he asked an Italian girl on a date. Not as badly as he would about whom Blaine really wanted to ask, however.
"I want to go with you," Blaine bit out irritably.
Silence stretched out between them as Garland at the Grove played on softly in the background.
Kurt didn't even turn around to look at him. Blaine's face began to heat up as mortification set in.
"I should go," he mumbled, sliding off the bed and all but bolting out of Kurt's bedroom.
Blaine couldn't fall asleep that night.
His father was in Indianapolis on business, and without his deep, rumbling snores from down the hall, the house felt empty and lonely. Blaine had his window open, letting in the sounds from the street along with the cool late-spring air, but it didn't help.
As quiet as the house was, Blaine's head was loud, thoughts intruding on him no matter how hard he tried to shut them out.
He didn't know what he wanted from Kurt… No, that wasn't entirely true. He wanted everything that Kurt did to him. But he wanted more, and he barely knew what he had already.
If Kurt were a girl, Blaine would want to take her on dates and give her his jacket and make plans beyond high school… But that wasn't entirely accurate either, because there was no "if" about it. Blaine wanted to do it anyway. Even if Kurt thought there was nowhere worth going in Lima, and Blaine had lettered in speech and debate so it wasn't really that impressive and Kurt would probably scoff at the jacket anyway, and Kurt had been resolutely silent on the topic of life after graduation.
He knew that they couldn't. Blaine knew all too well that there were people who were acceptable to date and people who were not - not in Ohio, anyway, and Blaine had never heard of this in even the most progressive cities. And Blaine knew about these things; he read, he researched, he knew about the War Brides Act. He knew there were plenty of veterans - ones his father had served with, even - out in California that had brought their wives over from the Philippines.
Blaine had never been allowed to meet them.
For years Blaine had had a plan. He would go to Columbia. He would study something practical, as his father said, although Blaine thought that if he worked hard enough he could get a double major in theatre. He would meet an intelligent young woman at Barnard - someone who loved music as much as he did, so that even if he couldn't do it anymore he would always have someone to talk about it with. She would have that elusive quality that was missing from all of the Ohioan girls that he knew, and he would fall in love. Real love, the kind that they made movies and wrote songs about.
The plan seemed flimsier and flimsier every day. And there was always Kurt, solid and sure and so, so real - against him, on top of him, inside him…
Finn and Sam had asked, once, what Blaine was doing with Kurt all of a sudden. Blaine thought they were hoping he was about to divulge wild stories of midnight liquor store robberies, breaking and entering, and petty vandalism, and were disappointed when Blaine passed along the story he and Kurt had agreed upon. Blaine, however, had gotten a private thrill out of telling them that he and Kurt were "talking."
The phrasing had gone over their heads, of course, but now Blaine was assaulted with the question… were he and Kurt dating? They talked, during the afternoons, but… not while they were parked. Not really. Kurt praised him and encouraged him and sometimes Blaine could stop gasping long enough to respond, but usually they just… did.
Was he fast?
Blaine rolled over onto his stomach fitfully, trying to mash his pillow into a more comfortable shape. That was what he'd be if he were a girl that was parking with some boy who wasn't her steady. Was it different if he wanted him to be and he just couldn't?
If Kurt even wanted him to be.
Blaine tightened his grip on his pillow and buried his face into it. He wondered if this would be easier or harder if he knew what it was that Kurt wanted from him.
He tried to focus on the ambient noises outside: the gentle breeze through the grass, the chirping crickets, the rare sound of a car driving past… or stopping… a car door being opened, then closed, and a light treading down the street…
Blaine's eyes opened when he heard his fence creak like someone was climbing it and a dull thud like that same someone had dropped into his backyard. His breath caught and his heart sped up. Luckily there was a phone in his dad's study; if someone were trying to break in he wouldn't have to go downstairs to call the police…
Blaine sat bolt upright when he heard the groan of wood and scrape of someone climbing up the side of the house, right below Blaine's side-yard-facing open window. He slid out of bed as silently as he could, hoping that his hammering heart wasn't giving him away, and grabbed the heftiest award he had off of his desk. He adjusted his grip on it, took a deep, steadying breath, crept up to the window, and peered down.
He nearly dropped the trophy when he saw who was scaling the wall, using the trellis and the peach trees that were being trained on it for foot and hand holds. "Kurt?"
Kurt's head tipped back and he met Blaine's eyes. "Ssh," Kurt hissed softly. Blaine stood there, dumbfounded, until Kurt raised his eyebrow and whispered, "Step back."
Blaine retreated into his room, feeling a little dazed. He carefully set the trophy back down on his desk; when he turned around again, Kurt was throwing a leg over the windowsill, ducking his head inside, and spilling out onto Blaine's bedroom floor.
"What are you doing here?" Blaine whispered.
Kurt righted himself, straightening his clothes and running a hand through his hair. He gave Blaine a wide smirk and said, "You forgot your bow tie."
Blaine stared at him. Kurt slid his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket (there was hardly any leather left visible on the belt, Blaine noted distantly), pulled out the silk tie, and dangled it out in front of him. "I know how attached you are to these things. I didn't want you to get separation anxiety."
Blaine took the bow tie mutely. He looked from Kurt to the piece of cloth and back again. "You - what are you doing?"
"You said your father was gone all this week."
"I -" Blaine hadn't been sure Kurt had been paying attention to that; he'd been doing his nails when he mentioned it. Blaine flushed when he recalled the reason why Kurt spent so much time keeping his nails trimmed and clean. He shifted his weight on his feet; his incredulity at having Kurt climb in through his window was fading, and a hot rush of blood was taking its place as it sunk in that Kurt was in his bedroom in the middle of the night. He cleared his throat. "Yes, I did. You - what if somebody saw you -?"
Kurt had his hands tucked tight into his jacket pockets. His head was tilted stiffly and he was watching Blaine sideways. "Do you want me to leave?"
Blaine sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. "No."
Kurt grinned and loosened; he crossed the room and pulled his hands out of his pockets to grasp Blaine lightly by the elbows. He swooped down to kiss him and Blaine opened his mouth with a soft whimper. The bow tie slipped out of his fingers as Kurt pressed his tongue into his mouth, stroking softly across his own.
Kurt pulled back with a smirk, his hands sliding up Blaine's arms and then slipping into his hair. Blaine winced inwardly - his hair had to be a complete mess from all his tossing and turning - but Kurt just grinned softly and let out a flirty "hmmm." He carded his fingers through his curls slowly, tugging lightly in a way that made his scalp tingle. Blaine closed his eyes and leaned into his hands with a sigh, and Kurt bent down to kiss him again.
Blaine never stopped being thrilled by the way Kurt kissed him. His lips were soft and firm, his mouth was warm, his tongue was strong and supple; Kurt drew him in and teased him and made him breathless.
"Hmm," Kurt hummed, clasping Blaine by the sides of the face and tilting his head where he wanted it. Blaine curved into him, wound his arms around Kurt's neck, and clung to his shoulders.
Kurt knocked their knees together, nudging Blaine back, and Blaine took a few stumbling steps backward as Kurt walked them to the bed. They hit the edge of it and fell against the mattress with a bounce. Kurt grunted softly and Blaine let out a little gasp as Kurt collapsed on top of him. Blaine slid his legs out, spreading his thighs wide and pressing Kurt down lower between them. He groaned when Kurt's hard cock slotted against his own and stilled his shaking fists by tightened his grip on Kurt's leather jacket.
Kurt angled Blaine head and gave him a long, deep kiss. He pressed him hard against the mattress by the mouth and the hips; Blaine couldn't curl up into him, could only lie there and take it, and a needy whine rose in Blaine's throat but was muffled by Kurt's tongue.
He turned his head to the side and gasped when Kurt broke away. His chest was heaving already and he felt lightheaded with want. Kurt slid his hand down and out of the way, spreading it out across Blaine's neck and massaging softly. He nibbled along the curve of Blaine's jaw and pressed tender, incendiary kisses to the sensitive spot just below his ear.
"Kurt -" Blaine gasped.
Kurt nudged his mouth back towards him with the palm that was still cupping his face and recaptured his lips. Both of his hands slipped down and clasped Blaine around the waist, and then Kurt pushed Blaine's torso another few inches across the bed. He got his knee on the edge of the mattress and heaved himself forward after him, then pushed Blaine again. They slid across the mattress inch by inch until only their feet were hanging off the end, with Kurt pressing open-mouthed kisses to Blaine's lips all the while. Kurt let go of Blaine to reach down, unlace, and kick off his boots. Blaine moaned and squeezed his eyes closed as Kurt shifted above him, rubbing against his cock.
Kurt's boots hit the floor with two muffled thuds. He reached down between them to undo the belt on his jacket, his knuckles brushing against Blaine's abdomen as he did. He tugged on the lapels of his jacket and Blaine let go of his back. Blaine wrapped his hands around Kurt's neck instead and tugged him down to give him a spirited kiss. Kurt's back arched up as he tried to strip out of his jacket without detaching from the sweet suction of Blaine's lips.
The jacket was cast over the bedpost and then Kurt was settling back down on top of him, sliding his arms around Blaine's back and clutching him closer. Blaine dropped his hands down, gliding his fingers over the contours of Kurt's arms, shoulders, and back. The only thing separating his hot, solid torso from Blaine's hands was a thin cotton t-shirt.
Kurt sucked hard on his bottom lip, tugging it a little before he released it. He gave him another, chaste kiss, and then brushed his lips against Blaine's ear and whispered, "I like your bed."
Blaine shivered. He grasped Kurt's warm, bare biceps and squeezed, thinking about all of the times he'd lain there and thought of Kurt…
"I like you in my bed," he whispered back.
"Do you," Kurt purred. His voice seemed to hang somewhere between astonished and arrogant. His mouth started to trail down, pressing tantalizing kisses along Blaine's throat. His tongue darted out, licking at the dip above his sternum. Blaine let out a soft cry and pushed up into Kurt's comfortable weight.
Kurt unwound his arms from around Blaine and propped himself up on his elbows. He hovered over Blaine and looked down at him with bright eyes. There were spots of color blooming high on his cheeks.
"I want to try something," Kurt murmured. His voice was already getting higher with excitement.
"Okay," Blaine said breathlessly.
Kurt made an exhilarated noise that went straight to Blaine's cock. He craned his neck up to kiss him again. Kurt kissed him back with hard and short draws on his mouth, his body gone taut with anticipation under Blaine's hands. Blaine let out a disappointed groan when Kurt pulled away. He sat up onto his knees between Blaine's open legs and fanned his fingers out on Blaine's chest to stop him from following him.
Kurt stared down at him, mouth open and wet, eyes wide and dark. Blaine felt a pang of want so bad it nearly choked him. He didn't know how a person could be so stunning and not be made out of oil paint.
Kurt glanced over his shoulder at Blaine's feet, which were still hanging off the edge of the bed. He turned back to Blaine and lifted his hands off of his chest, laying them on the mattress on either side of him. Blaine was up immediately, drawn like a magnet to Kurt's mouth, and he wrapped his hands around Kurt's biceps to hold himself up as he kissed him.
Kurt rolled his tongue over his, then swept under it, then nipped his bottom lip and pulled back. "Get up by the headboard," Kurt murmured. "I don't have room right here."
Blaine hated to slide away from him at all. But Kurt's voice was a treble, shaking almost with how eager he was, and it made Blaine's body buzz. He wrapped a hand in Kurt's t-shirt and dragged him along as he crawled backwards toward the wall. He didn't let go when he got there; instead he lied down, fully lengthwise on the bed now, and drew Kurt down on top of him.
He let out a throaty groan when Kurt's hip rubbed against his cock. Kurt planted a swift kiss on his lips, then rolled his face into Blaine’s neck and began to lave the skin there with his tongue. He reached a hand down and grasped Blaine's cock through his pajamas.
Blaine moaned and pushed into his hand, cock throbbing and impatient. Kurt dragged his fingertips up with a breathy chuckle, tracing the shape of it, then picked at the drawstring of Blaine's pants. He grasped the hem with both hands and drew it down. He scraped his fingertips along Blaine's hips as he did and made him shiver.
Kurt kept pulling, sitting up again and scooting back as he pulled Blaine's pajamas and underwear all the way off his legs and dropped them carelessly on the floor. Kurt licked his lips as he stared at Blaine's sprawling legs and hard, flushed cock. Blaine almost squirmed under the scrutiny, feeling flustered in the best kind of way.
"Spread your legs wider," Kurt breathed out, and groaned quietly when Blaine stretched them farther apart immediately. His hand landed on Blaine's inner thigh and ran up. He spread his fingers out on the junction his thigh and hip and pressed his thumb against the sensitive skin between his balls and his hole. Blaine keened and grabbed at Kurt around the abdomen, tugging at his t-shirt.
Kurt's hand wrapped around his cock and began to stroke softly. Blaine let out a relieved sigh and sank against the mattress. He was mildly surprised when Kurt settled back on top of him without retrieving the jelly from his jacket or even unfastening his jeans, but he clutched him to his chest anyway. Kurt stroked his cock slowly, planting kisses to whatever part of Blaine's face his lips landed on. He traveled lower, his kisses getting wetter as he sucked on Blaine's neck and then his collarbone. He flicked the button Blaine's top open one-handed and slid his mouth over his sternum, dragging his lips over the thin skin there before he sealed his mouth against his chest and sucked hard.
"Kurt -" Blaine groaned, thrusting up into his hand and trying to get more friction from his loose hold.
"Lie still," Kurt directed. He pressed another, close-mouthed kiss to Blaine's chest, above his racing heart. Blaine whined quietly and Kurt rose up and returned to his mouth for one long, ardent kiss. He broke away with a wet smack and Blaine stared at him. Kurt's breath was fast and his eyes were almost burning. He braced his other hand against Blaine's thigh and gave Blaine a wide grin.
Then he started to sink down Blaine's chest, sliding his legs out behind him until he was lying flat on the bed between Blaine's thighs, and he didn't even pause before he took Blaine's cock into his mouth.
Kurt hadn't surprised Blaine so completely since the first time that he kissed him. Blaine's shocked, sharp inhale cut through the room and his hips jolted up on reflex, pushing his cock deeper into the wet warmth of Kurt's mouth.
Kurt drew back and looked up at Blaine, his hand still stroking the shaft. "Lie still," he repeated, more firmly.
"I -" Blaine gasped, staring at Kurt's parted lips and the dark deep inside of his mouth. He bit his lip hard and his body trembled. "I can't -"
Kurt squeezed Blaine's thigh and then slid his arm around and braced it across Blaine's hips. Blaine strained up against him and moaned when Kurt's arm held him down.
He cried out wantonly when Kurt ducked his head back down and drew the tip of Blaine's cock into his mouth. He dug his heels into the bed and whined as Kurt slowly circled the head with his tongue. Kurt's tongue dipped lower to rub along his foreskin, and Blaine's hands flew to his mouth to muffle his shout. His hips jerked up and the muscles in Kurt's arm tightened as he kept him pinned to the mattress.
Kurt sank his mouth down lower, swallowed the first few inches of Blaine's cock, and sucked. Blaine's eyes rolled back in his head and he made desperate noises from behind his hands.
Kurt pulled off with wet pop and slid his hand up, twisting around the head and stroking down wet. He skimmed his lips along the length of Blaine's cock, humming appreciatively, and Blaine bit into the skin between his thumb and index finger.
"Don't do that," Kurt murmured. "I wanna hear you." He licked a stripe back up Blaine's cock and then engulfed it and sucked hard.
Blaine unsealed his hands from his mouth with a wild gasp, his hips undulating under Kurt's arms. He slid his hands into his own hair and fisted them there so that he couldn't reach down and yank on Kurt's head. His back arched up off the bed and he squeezed his eyes closed.
Kurt's mouth was wet, tingly, warm suction. There was no word for it but perfect, and Blaine couldn't even articulate that at the moment. His toes curled as Kurt's mouth coaxed a stream of whimpers, moans, and wails out of him. Blaine tugged harder on his hair and shook as Kurt's tongue rubbed over his cock and his hand massaged the base.
Blaine's orgasm overtook him all at once, so that all his could do was shout hoarsely as pleasure flared up in his cock and spread outward, rippling all the way through his legs and up his spine. Blaine collapsed against the bed, panting wildly, and his hands flopped limply against the mattress. His cock slipped out of Kurt's mouth and Kurt pulled back. He slid his hands down, clutching Blaine's legs just below the knees. Blaine felt it distantly as he stared up at the ceiling, dazed.
He heard Kurt swallow wetly.
Blaine's eyes widened, and then he craned his neck to stare at Kurt - still in between his legs, lips shiny and mouth working as his tongue rolled around inside it, a dark, wondrous look in his eyes.
Blaine tried to say something, but all he managed was a harsh wheeze.
Kurt rolled over Blaine's leg, collapsing onto his back beside him. He reached out and tucked his left hand around Blaine's right thigh, stroking the soft skin there. Kurt worked his belt open one-handed, fished his hard cock out, and began to stroke himself as he massaged the muscle of Blaine's thigh.
"God, Blaine," Kurt groaned, his eyelashes fluttering as he fisted himself. "The things you do to me."
Blaine gazed at him, stupefied. His head was still sluggish and his body was still humming from what Kurt had done to him. Kurt was always the one showing him all of these things that Blaine hadn't even known were possibilities.
Kurt's face was lovely in profile, and even more so when it was flushed and tipped back, eyes closed and mouth open in the throes of bliss. Blaine's eyes swept down over Kurt's arched and heaving chest, and the tight stretch of his abdomen. He had his feet planted to the bed to brace himself as he thrust up into the channel of his fist, the wet head of his cock disappearing and reappearing from the circle of his thumb and forefinger.
Blaine swallowed. He reached down and grabbed the hand that Kurt was rubbing his thigh with, and curled his fingers around Kurt's to hold them still. "Kurt -"
The groan Kurt made was startling loud. His hips started to rock up faster.
"Kurt," Blaine squeezed his fingers. "Wait -"
Kurt's hips stilled, swaying slightly. He blinked his eyes open and looked at Blaine, his face scrunching up slightly. "What?" he panted out, tense.
Blaine licked his lips. "I want to - to you."
Kurt slumped back against the bed, legs sliding out from under him. He stared at Blaine like he wasn't sure he'd heard him, eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips.
"I want to," Blaine repeated more steadily.
Kurt tugged his hand out from Blaine's grasp. He reached up, cupped the back of his neck, and craned his own up while he pulled Blaine's down to kiss. Blaine kissed back at once, sliding further down the bed until they were lying at the same level. He curled his own hand around Kurt's cheek and could feel when his jaw shifted beneath it. Kurt pushed his tongue into Blaine's mouth, and Blaine moaned quietly at the slightly brackish taste that lingered inside Kurt's mouth.
Kurt pulled back; searching Blaine's face, he murmured breathlessly, "Still want to?"
"Yes," Blaine said, nodding quickly.
Kurt's eyes squeezed tight for a moment, and when Blaine glanced down he noticed that Kurt was doing the same around the base of his cock. Kurt did that sometimes - most times - when he had his fingers inside Blaine on the nights that they had prophylactics, and it always made something excited and… adoring flare up in Blaine's chest. It was gratifying to see how he affected Kurt; knowing that he could affect Kurt was a heady thought. But it also made him feel… looked after, when Kurt held off to let him have what he wanted.
"Okay," Kurt breathed out, detaching from Blaine. He planted his elbows on the mattress and heaved himself up closer to the headboard. Blaine shuffled farther down the bed in turn. He rolled over onto his stomach, bending his knees and lifting his hips up high enough that his oversensitive cock didn't rub against the blankets. Kurt drew his legs up and peeled his tight jeans off of them, then shoved them off the edge of the bed. He spread his legs out on either side of Blaine and said again, voice high with a tremble of contained excitement, "Okay."
Blaine laid his hands on Kurt's hips and took a moment to just take in his cock. It looked elegant, flushed with blood and curving gracefully towards Kurt's belly button.
It occurred to Blaine that in order to actually angle it towards his mouth he would have to take a hand off of one of Kurt's hips, but he was reluctant to do so. The curve of Kurt's bone under his firm muscle and soft skin felt supportive and secure.
Kurt laid a hand on his head; it made Blaine start in surprise and then lean into it. Kurt slid his fingers through his curls and ran them along the top of his scalp, scratching lightly with his fingernails. He pulled gently, causing a tingle to crawl all the way down Blaine's spine. Kurt kneaded his fingers into the base of his skull, then lifted his hand up and ran it over his scalp again. He went on caressing Blaine's head with one hand while his other reached down, wrapped around his cock, and held it towards Blaine's lips.
"Watch your teeth," Kurt murmured breathlessly, and that was all the instruction he offered.
Blaine ran his tongue over his bottom lip once, feeling giddy with curiosity, craving, and the slight trepidation that he wasn't going to do it right and would embarrass himself in some way. But Kurt groaned quietly at the flash of tongue and gave the back of Blaine's neck a light squeeze and Blaine, emboldened, leaned down and licked the head of Kurt's cock.
Kurt inhaled sharply and breathed out slowly, and Blaine could feel all the muscles in his legs and abdomen flex.
Blaine lowered his mouth. Kurt's cock seemed bigger cradled inside his mouth than it did to look at. It slid hard up his tongue, weighing heavily on it and crowding his mouth, and he opened up wider.
It felt satiny gliding against his tongue and the tip had a salty tang. Blaine could feel the throb of Kurt's blood and it made Blaine's spine tingle. He knew it had felt good when Kurt did it to him and he'd wanted to make Kurt feel the same, but he hadn't expected it to be such an erotic thrill for himself. All of his senses were overrun with Kurt: the savory taste of him; his smooth, taut cock filling up his mouth while his fingers drew through his hair; the way he smelled, strong but clean and so male.
And the noises he was making. Broken off little huffs and strained whines as Blaine rolled his tongue under his cock. Blaine closed his lips around the shaft and pulled up, heat pooling in his groin at the way it felt when they dragged on Kurt's hot, velvety skin.
"Oh God," Kurt whispered desperately, head tipping back into the pillows and hand clenching in Blaine's hair. His hips squirmed under Blaine's hands as the head of his cock caught on Blaine's lips. Blaine held the tip there and swiveled his tongue around it experimentally.
"Ah - Blaine -"
Blaine hadn't thought having Kurt's cock in his mouth would make him feel like this. Powerful and ardent and tender and gleeful and electrified all at once. He applied gentle suction to the head and Kurt moaned out loud.
"Fuck, Blaine," Kurt hissed. The hand that had been holding his cock steady began to move, stroking the base with short jerks. Blaine unsealed his lips and let his mouth drop open. His eyes closed as the tip of Kurt's cock rubbed hard and fast against his tongue. It was almost - God - it was almost like Kurt was fucking his mouth, and the thought made Blaine feel hot all over. He moaned quietly around Kurt's cock, and then Kurt gasped and seized up underneath him.
He'd known it was about to happen, but it still managed to surprise him when Kurt spilled into his mouth. Blaine could feel Kurt's cock pulse as it flooded his mouth, and the taste was sharper than it had been lingering on Kurt's tongue. He pulled off, trying to swallow and cough at the same time, and some of Kurt's come leaked down his chin.
Kurt made a soft noise and sat up, worming his fingers tighter into Blaine's hair and guiding him up as well. His thumb swiped at the corner of Blaine's mouth, collecting the drip. Blaine stared wide-eyed as Kurt brought the thumb to his lips and sucked his come off.
"What?" Kurt murmured, his eyes dark and locked onto Blaine's. "Haven't you ever tasted your own?"
Blaine flushed. He probably should have been scandalized, but all he felt was a rush of blood to his hardening cock. "No, I don't - do that -"
"I do it all the time," Kurt purred, and Blaine blushed harder. Kurt tugged him gently, irresistibly closer, until their foreheads were pressed together. Kurt's eyelashes fluttered closed and he sighed out, "I can't stop thinking about you."
"Really?" Blaine asked breathlessly, warmth spreading through his whole body.
"Mmm-hm," Kurt hummed. He dropped his hand down to Blaine's shoulder and began to plant kisses on Blaine's cheek. He whispered in his ear, "I've wanted to suck your dick for so long."
Blaine shivered; Kurt's words curled hotly inside of him, but they also made his heart contract. "Is that all?" he asked quietly.
Kurt chuckled, sounding pleased. "Did you want more?" he asked teasingly. His hand cupped Blaine's thigh and he slid fingers up the underside, inching toward his ass. Blaine's skin prickled and he swallowed. What Kurt was doing felt amazing, so Blaine didn't understand why he felt awful.
It was like all of the intimacy he'd felt when he'd had his mouth on Kurt had evaporated. They were as close as they had been - closer, in fact, with Kurt's face against his and his arms around him - but Blaine felt suddenly as if he could have been anyone.
"Just when I thought there was nothing to do in this town," Kurt sighed out contentedly, a wolfish smile breaking out on his face as he kneaded the underside of Blaine's leg, "there you were."
Blaine scooted backward, out of Kurt's grip. Kurt blinked at him, lifting a questioning eyebrow, but Blaine hardly registered it. His insides were knotting up at the thought that this was just a kick for Kurt. That he was just something fun to do. He swallowed and looked up at Kurt, whose brow was furrowed in confusion. "Is that…"
"What?" Kurt asked when Blaine trailed off, unsure of what to say. Kurt tilted his head, eyes flickering down Blaine's body and then back up. "Did you want to try something? I could -"
"I told you," Blaine interrupted in a tight whisper. "I already told you what I wanted."
As humiliating as his outburst had been that afternoon, it had crystallized something inside of Blaine. It wasn't more… physical closeness that he was craving. He didn't feel lonely at the end of a night with Kurt because he'd been left alone, it was because he was afraid Kurt was never really there at all.
An expression flitted over Kurt's face that was gone too quickly for Blaine to identify; his cool impassivity quelled it almost at once. "Come on, Blaine," he said, reaching out and clasping Blaine by the knee. "Can't we just -"
Blaine pulled his leg away and sat up by the foot of the bed. Kurt dropped his hand, a frustrated tightness appearing around his mouth.
All Blaine wanted was for Kurt to reassure him that it wasn't just what they did in secret in the dark - that he liked the afternoons they spent together, too - but he couldn't ask Kurt to just tell him that. He thought insincerity would hurt more than if Kurt didn't say anything at all.
"Why did you come to me?"
"You were looking," he said shortly. "You'd been looking for years."
"Then why - why then -"
Kurt shrugged. "Couldn't make an excuse to approach you. Not until you got that car of yours."
Blaine's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as the realization hit him. "You scratched my car?"
"You didn't figure that out?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at Blaine sideways.
"You -" Blaine sputtered. "I can't believe you did that to a cherry Impala -"
"I fixed it, didn't I?" Kurt huffed. "I couldn't just walk up and ask you to the soda shop, Blaine," he said derisively.
"I just - I don't know what we have -"
"We have sex, Blaine," Kurt drawled out with a sarcastic edge. "I know you're all demure, but I didn't think you were that innocent."
"I know what we're doing," Blaine said crossly, feeling insulted, defensive, and frustrated by the sudden blush on his face that was betraying his unworldliness. "Why are we doing it?"
"It feels good," Kurt said tersely, drawing his legs up and folded his arms across them.
"If you want a good time why don't you just - Brittany -"
"I tried," Kurt snapped. Blaine was startled by the hot way his throat seemed to be closing up. "It didn't… work, okay?" Kurt hissed, his eyes darting down and away as he scowled at the floor.
"So you have parked with Brittany," Blaine said quietly.
"That was more than two years ago." Kurt pursed his lips and shot Blaine a look. "You went to the passion pit with Rachel last Friday."
"They were showing On the Town," Blaine said. Kurt's lip twitched - curled almost - and Blaine added defensively, "I don't park!"
Blaine realized as soon as he'd said it that he in fact did park, and Kurt knew it - Kurt was the only one that knew it. For a moment, with as piqued as Kurt was acting, Blaine thought he'd call him on it. Call him fast. His insides squirmed at the thought. No one respected a fast girl, and if Kurt didn't respect him -
Kurt unfolded his long legs and sat up on his knees. Blaine was suddenly reminded that they were both naked, save for Kurt's tight, white t-shirt and his own pajama top, which was gaping open at the collar. Neither provided much cover. Kurt leaned forward, into Blaine's space. It made him loom, just a little, and it made something in Blaine's belly swoop. He swallowed dryly. Girls couldn't loom. Kurt had said he'd tried with a girl and failed, but Blaine didn't think he could even muster up the will to try. Not when everything he liked about Kurt was so masculine.
"We don't have to talk about it," Kurt said. "Rachel may be able to go down to the stupid drive-in with you," Kurt said, and there was a weird quality to his voice, coaxing but a little too bitter, "but I can do something for you that Rachel definitely can't."
Blaine sucked in a breath through his nose and looked away, a blush staining his cheeks.
"Why can't you just come to the sock hop?" he muttered, and Kurt made a frustrated noise. Why did this have to be so difficult? "The whole club's going together, it's not like - it's not like I'm asking you to pick me up and bring me flowers and dance with me," he ended in a small voice. He'd meant to be dismissive, but he hadn't realized quite how badly he'd wanted those things until he was listing them. He swallowed and met Kurt's eyes again. "It won't be - no one will think -"
Kurt's expression had flattened out. He sat back on his heels, and there was a tightness around his mouth as he said cooly, "I'm not going to the sock hop."
"Why not?" Blaine huffed. Why couldn't Kurt just… sing with him? Talk to him in public? He didn't think that was asking too much.
"Because it's for squares," Kurt snapped. "Because I hate those assholes. Because I don't feel like celebrating graduation…"
"Why not?" Blaine said bitterly. "If school's as lame as you clearly think it is, aren't you glad you're going to be leaving it all behind soon?" Blaine, personally, had most definitely not been looking forward to Kurt graduating. The school seemed much smaller when he tried to imagine it without Kurt's pervading presence.
"I don't want to talk about graduation," Kurt said. The corners of his mouth got tight and he said, agitated, "This is the only time I don't think about it, why - damn it, Blaine, why do you have to -"
"What do you want?" Blaine demanded, frustrated.
"It doesn't matter what I want," Kurt snapped. "I'm going to stay here and make sure my dad doesn't work himself to death, because even if I could trust Finn with the garage there's no way he could dissuade Dad from doing anything," he said bitterly. Kurt glared at the wall. "You're going to be gone in a year and I'm never going to see you again. So just… come on. In the meantime…"
Blaine's stomach squirmed at the confirmation that Kurt had always only thought of this as temporary. "I don't want that," he mumbled.
"Fine," Kurt said tightly, sliding off the bed. "You want to end this now, then fine. Better we don't drag it out for another year." He grabbed his jeans off the floor and yanked them roughly up his hips, making no attempt to find and pull on his underwear first. His back was stiff and his voice was tense. "We won't have a good excuse to spend time together once I've graduated, anyway. Better we stop before we get caught."
"I didn't say that I wanted to end it," Blaine said quickly. He sat up straighter, his heart shooting up his throat at the suggestion.
Kurt paused in his search for his boots and glanced over his shoulder to meet Blaine's eyes. He was frowning with mingled disbelief and want. For a moment he was caught off guard and he looked… frayed. "You just said -" Kurt began, frustrated, and then cut himself off with a sigh. "Why'd you have to bring all of this up now?" he muttered, shaking his head. He seemed to be talking to himself more than to Blaine.
"All I'm asking is for you to talk to me. I don't see why that's such a problem for you," Blaine groused. He picked at his bedspread. "Unless you think talking to me is a waste of time."
Kurt's brow furrowed and he turned to face him fully. "We talk."
"Not about this."
"Of course not about this," Kurt said, sounding exasperating. "Talking about it will ruin it."
"Why?" Blaine asked. He linked his fingers between his knees and dug his thumb into his palm, trying to knead out some of his tension.
Kurt scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Seems to be doing a good enough job," he muttered.
Blaine looked up at Kurt, standing there in the middle of his bedroom with his hair all a mess and his unzipped jeans showing off a tantalizing triangle of bare flesh, illuminated by the window. Kurt was just so… beautiful, and there was something about him that made Blaine bold. Something that made him take chances he should have never wanted to take - not when he'd spent his whole life learning that to be safe and happy in this world, being what he was, meant that he had to be cautious and, essentially, not himself.
Or maybe not "happy," per se.
"Are we dating?" Blaine asked softly.
Kurt groaned quietly and closed his eyes like the question hurt. "Don't ask me that."
Blaine's eyes roamed over Kurt's face. He drew in a breath, a tremulous hope fluttering in his chest. "Do you want to?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me," Blaine bit out impatiently.
"Why?" Kurt snorted dismissively, avoiding his eyes. "Do you think getting fucked would feel better if we were?"
"Yes," Blaine snapped. "Or at least it would feel better than being ignored unless you want sex."
"I don't ignore you," Kurt said, eyes widening slightly and jumping to Blaine's.
"The only time you talk to me at school, it's to complain about the stagehands."
"Well, they're incompetent," Kurt snorted. "I could have assembled that scaffolding in my sleep."
"So why didn't you?" Blaine asked petulantly.
"Because I can't!" Kurt said, vexed. "If I'm not in the garage my dad sneaks in. It's bad enough he works in the mornings - I would have dropped out by now if the idea didn't stress him so much."
Kurt crossed his arms tightly. "I don't talk to you at school, but I don't ignore you." His expression turned even sourer. "And you seemed happy enough having sex with me and then taking Rachel to the stupid movies."
Blaine stared at him, thrown by the undisguised resentment and jealousy in his voice. "You can't be mad at me for not taking you out on dates before we park," he said. "That's all you'll give me."
"That's all I can give you," Kurt snapped. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, seeming to deflate with it. "…I'm not mad," he denied. "Just - why don't you get that that's just the way the world is?"
Blaine pursed his lips. "I know that better than you do," he muttered.
"Right," Kurt scoffed, disbelieving. He ran his hand through his hair once, fisting at the back of his scalp before he let out another sigh and forcibly relaxed. His shoulders sagged and he dropped his hand. "Why do you have to keep pestering me about this, then? Why can't we just… not talk about it, and not ruin the time that we have?" he asked, tired.
"Why do you think talking about it will ruin it?" Blaine asked again. He was staring at Kurt hard, trying not to hope for too much, but unable to help himself.
Kurt sighed. "So I guess that's a 'no,' then."
"Can't you just answer the question?" Kurt crossed his arms again, keeping his face forcibly blank. Blaine licked his lips. "Is it because you just want sex?" he asked. He didn't think so, not after he'd seen a hint of Kurt's bitterness that he wasn't the one Blaine was taking to the drive-in.
…Was he making Kurt feel easy? The idea had never occurred to him before. Was Kurt easy? Blaine had never thought so.
This was all so confusing. He didn't know what either of them was supposed to do. Which one of them was supposed to call and ask for dates, and pick the other up, and pay? Blaine had been taught how to treat a girl, but he was simply incapable of thinking of Kurt that way. He couldn't pretend to himself that Kurt's maleness wasn't what was so appealing about him.
But getting angry over him taking someone else on a date (even if all he and Rachel did together was sing along) - that was something steadies did.
Kurt's expression flickered at Blaine's suggestion, and it made Blaine's heart swell. "It's not…"
Blaine sat up onto his knees so that their eyes were level. "What is it?"
Kurt stayed silent for a long beat before he slumped, resigned. "Because if you talk about it you'll think about it, and then you'll stop wanting to do it," he said dully.
Blaine blinked at him, feeling a little baffled. "I already think about it."
Kurt fixed his gaze somewhere over Blaine's shoulder.
"Kurt," Blaine said, trying to lean into his line of sight. "Why do you think I'm going to want to stop?"
"Because," Kurt snorted, "you eat up those stupid social guidance films. You sing in the church choir. You're so…" Kurt waved a hand like he was casting for the appropriate term. "Proper," he declared, almost derisive but like he couldn't muster up the energy for it. "You're going to decide at some point that you don't want this."
Blaine frowned. "I do."
Kurt shook his head a little.
"I do," Blaine insisted. "I want you. I don't want to stop."
"You already did," Kurt snorted with a little nod toward the bed. His crossed arms closed tighter around his chest.
Blaine frowned at him. "I want more than just… sex," he said, rubbing his hands down his thighs to roll out some of his anxiety.
"More what? You want me to go to the sock hop and split a malt and give you my pin and tell you I love you?" Kurt burst out in a half-sardonic, half-defeated rush. Blaine sat back on his heels, feeling as stunned as if Kurt had just punched him.
Blaine didn't know what expression he was making, but whatever it was, it made Kurt's eyes widen. He took a step back. "Don't."
"Blaine, don't." He was trying to sound commanding, but there was a little tremble of distress in his tone. "I already told you, I can't give you anything more."
"You want to," Blaine said breathlessly.
"You're just going to make this harder in the end," Kurt said, voice tight. He took another step backward.
"Why are you so sure I'm going to end it?" Blaine asked softly.
Kurt laughed humorlessly. "You're not going to be in Lima forever."
"And you have to be?"
"Yes, I have to be," Kurt said, drawing himself up. "My dad is more important than…" He swallowed and looked away. "Than leaving."
Blaine sat back and stared at Kurt, taking in the stiff way he held himself and the tight clench of his jaw.
All this time, Blaine realized, Kurt had assumed that he would either have a crisis of conscience and put a stop to their parking or, at best, that it would continue until he graduated next year and moved to New York, at which point he would leave Lima - and Kurt - without a backward glance.
With all of the doubt and worry that Blaine had had about what they were doing, Blaine hadn’t considered that it might end since after the first time, when Kurt made it clear he hadn’t intended it to be a one-time-only thing. His concern was not that Kurt would get tired of him, but that Kurt only thought of him as entertainment.
He wasn't worried about that anymore. Not when Kurt had been alternately dreading their - as he saw it - inevitable parting and resolutely avoiding thinking about it.
Not when he'd as good as said that he loved Blaine and, oh. It felt amazing to suddenly have the word to put to everything that he was feeling. Kurt was always illuminating things that he’d never considered before but that he couldn't imagine living his life without now. That he couldn't imagine being himself without. Blaine felt more like himself with Kurt.
He loved Kurt.
But as much as the realization made him tingle, it came with the sobering realization that they could be split up - that Kurt was resigned to the idea that they would be, and if Blaine didn't convince him otherwise, then they would. The thought was like a splash of cold water. He'd only just found this; he couldn't lose it.
"You don't have to stay," Blaine said.
Kurt sighed. "You don't get it. Your family’s livelihood doesn’t depend on a physically demanding job."
"Does your dad want you to stay?" Blaine didn't think a man who was stressed by the idea of Kurt dropping out of school would be the sort to expect his son to join the family business the moment he graduated.
Kurt pursed his lips. He glanced back at Blaine with an annoyed look, like he'd had this conversation many times before. Blaine considered that confirmation that he was right.
"He doesn't take care of himself," Kurt said. "That's what got him in trouble in the first place."
"Can't his wife look after him?"
Kurt’s irritated look intensified. "I'm not interested in rehashing this argument with you of all people, Blaine," he bit out.
"But a year from now, do you really think he'll still be recovering -"
"God, I don't want to think about any of it," Kurt groaned.
"We have to," Blaine insisted. "We have to figure out what to do if you want to go New York," he said.
He shot Blaine an impatient look. "And do what when I get there? I don't have the money to go to college - or live in the city, for that matter.”
"I have money,” Blaine said quietly.
Kurt sighed again and ran a hand through his messy hair, pushing it off his forehead. "How many times do I have to say it, Blaine? I don't know if you're being purposely dense or you're just that naive…"
"I'm not naive," Blaine said with a touch of annoyance. Kurt snorted again and Blaine’s eyebrows drew down. He was preoccupied every day with things that Kurt would never even have to think about. "At least I'm trying," he grumbled.
Kurt made a frustrated noise. "And what exactly do you think it's going to be like for us in the city, huh?" he asked snidely, going on the offensive. "How long after finishing college and starting a career do you think you're going to wait before you cross 'start a family' off of your list of how to be an upstanding citizen?"
Blaine frowned at him and opened his mouth to protest, but Kurt barreled on.
"Exactly how does being a sexual deviant fit into your All-American Boy persona, Blaine?" he asked aggressively.
Kurt took a step forward, closing the space he’d made when he’d backed up. “Well?” he prompted, lifting an eyebrow.
All-American. Blaine worked his jaw and looked down at the bedspread. Kurt was right - this, them, didn’t fit at all with the image he always tried to present to world. But Blaine only tried so hard because he didn’t fit.
He’d never really wanted that life. If nothing else, being with Kurt had taught Blaine how to tell the difference between what he wanted and what he only thought that he should want.
“That’s what I thought,” Kurt said when Blaine didn’t answer. His voice sounded a little raw, a little dull - like he’d hoped that Blaine would say something but he hadn’t really expected it.
“It’s not that,” Blaine denied quietly.
Kurt made a soft scoffing noise and scrubbed a hand through his hair. His eyes dropped down to the jacket that was hanging off the end of the bedpost and he gestured to it without lifting his gaze. “Toss me that.”
Blaine didn’t. He didn’t want Kurt to resume getting dressed, because he was suddenly sure that if Kurt climbed out of his window now, then he would never see him again. Maybe not literally - the town wasn’t that big - but Kurt, having lost the retreat from Lima (and all it entailed) that they made together in the backseats of their cars, would retreat in on himself instead.
He wanted Kurt to believe in him. In them. If he didn't, then he would never try to make this work. It would be pointless to try to make any plans with Kurt if he had no hope. But Blaine wasn’t sure how to convince him that he was dedicated - not when he'd told him so multiple times already, and Kurt still thought that he was going to leave him for the ease and security of a marriage.
Kurt made an impatient noise and stepped forward, reaching for the jacket himself. Blaine’s hand shot out and he clasped Kurt by the wrist. Kurt stopped short and met his eyes again, looking suddenly exhausted.
Kurt arched an eyebrow, waiting impatiently and wearily for him to speak. Blaine wetted his lips nervously.
He thought he knew what might convince Kurt that he was invested in this in a way that he had never been with Rachel or any high school girl he'd ever taken on a date. That what they had was something he was willing to take risks for.
Blaine shifted up, kneeling at the edge of the bed so that he and Kurt were eye-to-eye; actually, he had the inch of height advantage for once. Kurt’s eyes flickered down for a moment when he straightened up and the hem of his pajama top no longer fell over his lap. In another scenario Blaine would have been self-conscious about being stripped bare at the waist when they weren’t even doing anything, but it seemed like such a trivial thing compared to what he was trying to work himself up to. Opening up for Kurt’s fingers and cock was easy compared to this.
He’d never said it out loud before. Ever. Not to his father. Not to his own face in the mirror. He’d always thought that he would tell that theoretical future college girl, but she was a mere ghost of a discarded plan now. Kurt - what he had with Kurt - was real and right in front of him. If there was anything that he wanted more than to keep hold of him, it was for Kurt to really know him - for them to know each other.
Blaine cleared his throat delicately. His hand slid down from Kurt’s wrist to catch and curl around his fingers. The expression on Kurt’s face was a little more dubious now, like he sensed that Blaine wasn’t simply going to rehash their argument.
Blaine squeezed his fingers. "I want to tell you something. About me." He licked his lips again, and Kurt’s eyes tracked the movement before they shifted back to his. Kurt peered at him curiously. "No one else knows."
Kurt slowly arched an eyebrow. "I think I already know a lot about you that no one else knows, Blaine."
"It's something else." Blaine rubbed his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles. "When my dad was overseas…"
Blaine trailed off and changed his mind. This wasn’t about his father; it was about himself. He cleared his throat again. "I’m not white."