A/N: warning - rated mature for rape, assault and sexual content. I don't own Glee.

"Hey Blaine, I'm going to go outside a few minutes ahead of you and start up the car. It's so cold out!" I said, wrapping my scarf around my neck and pulling on my boots. We were supposed to meet Mercedes and Anthony at Breadstix in half an hour and I wanted to make sure that we were on time. I was so excited that they had actually hit it off since I was the one who had suggested that they get together. I heard Blaine call from upstairs acknowledging that he heard me. I left the house immersed in thoughts about how lucky I was to have found someone so special.

Since we were planning on taking my car, which was parked in the garage, I walked down the sidewalk that connected the house to the garage quite slowly since I was concerned about falling on ice. It was snowing pretty hard and was a little windy and I pulled my scarf father up to cover up my mouth and cheeks. I was glad to escape in the bit of warmth that came with reaching the enclosed building and shut the door behind me so that no more wind would come in. Making my way to the car, I reached my hand into my pocket and swore under my breath. I had left my keys inside on the kitchen counter.

Turning around to return to the house, I felt a rough hand on my shoulder and was instantly twirled around so that I was facing a tall, broad boy in a letterman's jacket. I was startled into silence and took in a sharp breath. He must have thought that I was going to shout out, because he roughly placed his hand over my mouth. He leaned in closer to me and I could smell alcohol pouring out of his breath and off of his clothes.

He leaned in close to my face. I tried to call out for help, but my voice was muffled to less than a whisper with his large hands and thick gloves covering most of my face. "Sup, homo?" he asked quietly and mockingly. His whisper rolled off of his tongue and floated around my face and made me shiver. Not in the beautiful way that happened sometimes when Blaine would whisper in my ear, but in a way that made me fill up with fear.

"Don't say anything. I've just come here to talk to you." The tone of his voice was low and hoarse and I couldn't trust that what he said was true, but I had no way of trying to scream like I wanted to with him still forcefully holding onto my face. "You're the only other person that I know who is like me. The only one who understands. The only one who knows. The only one..." He was mumbling repetitively and I found myself hoping that he had drunk enough that he would just pass out or that enough time had passed that Blaine would be coming out to the car.

He shoved me so that my back slid down against the side of the car and I realized that no one would be able to see us from outside while the door was shut. I hadn't noticed that I had squeezed my eyes shut until he shouted at me, saying, "open your eyes when I'm talking to you! I want you to look at me!" I forced myself to look into his eyes, thinking that maybe if I just did what he asked of me he would leave me alone.

At the sudden eye contact, he looked startled and loosened his grip on my mouth and I let out a high scream, not actually forming any words but reveling in the momentary lack of pressure on my face. Before I could yell out for help, his lips were on mine. More forcefully than when we were at school. That incident had seemed out of desperation, but this seemed much more passionate - full of desire.

I wiggled my hips, trying to push him off of me and started hitting any part of him that I could reach. Numb with alcohol, coldness and yearning, he didn't let up at these blows, but only deepened the kiss, prying my lips open and forcing his tongue into my mouth and along my teeth. When he took a moment to take a breath, I shouted as loudly as I could manage,"help! Someone please help me!"

"I told you to be quiet!" he said, the look in his eyes shifting from desire to anger. He punched me hard in the stomach and I keeled over in pain. He stood up and looked down at me laying on the concrete floor. He swung his foot back and kicked me once, twice, three times in the chest and stomach. The lack of contact on my face made it possible for me to make noise, but the punches to my chest had made it impossible for me to say anything other than a whispered"please, please, please" between my whimpers of pain. I felt one last hard kick to my head and warm blood trickling down my neck from my ears and nose. Everything went blank.

Some time later, I opened my eyes to see him walk over to the garage door and lock it. He had taken off his jacket and I could see the obvious erection pressing through his pants. Wanting to escape, but not having enough energy to even lift a finger, I closed my eyes, at least wanting to not see what I was sure would come next. As he walked towards me, the dizziness returned and everything went blank again.

"Kurt, babe, you didn't have to wait out here for it warm up. You're right, it is freezing out here." Blaine said from right outside the garage door. My cheek was pressed into the cold concrete of the garage floor and I tried to open my eyes at the sound of his voice. I could feel the swelling around my eyes and could only open them enough to see a blurry image of part of the door.

Karofsky had also heard Blaine. My entire body had been so numb and in pain that I hadn't noticed that he was still there until he had stopped what he was doing. I somehow found the energy to turn my head and look around at him and I watched as he pulled his penis out of me. His face was red and sweaty and I knew that he must have been thrusting quickly before he heard Blaine's interruption.

At the sight and realization of what he had been doing, I got sick to my stomach and threw up all over - down the from of my shirt and onto the floor.

"Babe, are you okay in there? I think that this door must be stuck." Blaine said, now sounding worried. He had obviously heard me get sick. I heard him rattling the door handle trying to pull it open and I tried to cry out to him so that he would know that I wasn't okay, but I once again had exhausted what little energy I had found. Obviously concerned by my lack of response, Blaine started slamming on the door and shouting my name repeatedly. I saw Karofsky walking around gathering his pants and jacket and hurriedly putting them on, obviously trying to get out of there before Blaine realized that I wasn't alone.

Blaine had forced the door open with his shoulder and took one look at me on the floor and Karofsky zipping up his pants and shouted a noise that was the scariest thing I had ever heard. He lunged at Karofsky, managing to tackle him since he was so drunk and scared. Blaine gave him one good punch to the face, but that only seemed to clear his mind. Even in his drunken state he was much stronger than Blaine and he easily flipped him over so that he was on top of him and began punching him repeatedly in the stomach.

"Stop," I tried to shout and get his attention. "Please leave him alone. Don't hurt him! Anything but him.

"Babe, wake up."

"Stop, don't hurt him. Hurt me instead."

"Kurt, babe, wake up. Nobody is hurting anyone. It's me, here with you. It's Blaine. It's just me and you. Nobody is going to hurt you or anyone else."

"Stop! Stop! Please!"

I felt myself being pulled back to reality and opened my eyes to see a distraught Blaine kneeling over me. I could feel a wet towel on my forehead and looked over to see bowl of ice on our bedside table.

Trying to shake myself out of what I had finally realized was a nightmare - a memory - I looked up at Blaine and took a deep breathe and tried to calm myself down.

Even years the attack I still sometimes had dreams about it. Even though I had originally been upset with the locker room kiss, looking back at it, I would be glad if that would have been where it had stopped.

After living at Dalton for a few months, Blaine and I had become a couple and I had finally become comfortable with who I was. The bullying policy and security that came with attending Dalton made me feel more safe than I had ever been before. But one night, after drinking at some football party, Karofsky cornered me, raped me and beat us both up enough to land Blaine and me in a hospital for a week and two weeks respectively.

If Blaine hadn't come outside and found me at the right minute, I would have died that night. I lost an extremely dangerous amount of blood. At least that's what the doctors had told me. And if my dad hadn't come out to the garage and found Karofsky on top of Blaine, I'm sure that he would have died out there too. After I passed out that final time after seeing Karofsky on top of Blaine, I didn't remember anything until a week later. I could tell that it was the middle of the night by the total darkness that consumed the hospital room and the lack of commotion in the hallway.

Blaine's head was laying on my chest and his hand was in mine. I didn't hear anything but the soft melody that was falling off of his lips and seemed to ricochet around the room through the silence. I squeezed his hand to let him know that I was awake and whispered his name as loudly as I could. We both spent the majority of that night crying and holding each other, trying obtain some of the comfort that we had been lacking, while I was sleeping and dreaming and while he was attempting to be patient while waiting for me to wake up.

The only good thing that came from that incident was that Karofsky was now in prison for DUI, assault, rape and a few other charges that the district attorney was able to come up with and was sentenced to over twenty years in state prison. I knew that one day would come when I would have to worry about him again, but through all of the trials and sentences I had gotten a restraining order against him so that I could at least have a little piece of mind.

But it's been five years since that happened. And most of the time, I am happy. Blaine and I are currently in our third year of NYU (he took a year off after high school and worked as a waiter so that we could go to school together). We share a little apartment in Manhattan that Blaine's parents pay for and we are very much in love. But once in a while I'll have a nightmare that makes me return to that night and temporarily steals my happiness and sense of security. At least until Blaine can pull me out of it.

This night was one of the worst that had happened in years. Blaine and I had shared a really romantic night at one of our favorite Italian restaurants to celebrate our anniversary. I hate that our most intimate nights were sometimes interrupted by the monster that haunted my dreams.

"Are you back with me, Kurt?" Blaine asked me gently, wiping the washcloth across my forehead and placing it on the table. "Yeah, I'm here," I said quietly, trying to keep my eyes open because every time I closed my eyes I had a flash of the nightmare that I had just relived.

"Karofsky again?" he inquired, obviously wanting to make sure that I was really okay. "Yes," I replied, "I think that that is the worst that it has ever been, it's like I was reliving it instead of remembering it. It got all the way to the end when he was hurting you. I wanted him to stop so badly and neither of you could hear me and I thought that we were never going to be together again." I was starting to get worked up and I felt a few hot tears fall down my face.

He put his hand over my mouth to quiet me, but his touch was so gentle and caring that it made me feel nearly instantly better and reassured. "Don't worry about me, baby. I'm here with you now and there's nobody here to hurt you. I'll never hurt you," he said, placing soft kisses along my face and neck.

I pushed the memories out of my mind and focused on the feeling of Blaine's soft lips on my face and neck. "You love me, right?" I said, pushing him back and looking deep into his hazel eyes. He looked almost hurt at the question. "Of course, Kurt. You know that you are the one person in this world that I would do anything for. I hate that you have these nightmares, but just know that I'll always be here for you when you wake up."

I let my eyes close again and sighed in relief, but images of the nightmare returned as soon as the darkness came. I opened them abruptly and looked back into Blaine's beautiful eyes. "Every time I close my eyes, images of that night come back to the surface. I need to shift my attention and you are the one who is best at doing that for me. Will you make love to me? I need you to show me how much you love me so that I can push out the pictures that are currently filling up my mind," I whispered, running my hands through his curls and sitting up slightly so that I was right close next to his face.

"Baby, you know that I will do anything to make you feel better. Just try to keep your eyes on me and focus all of your thoughts on what I'm doing to you," he said, pushing me back so that I was laying down again and he flashed me a gorgeous smile before continuing the soft kisses to my face and neck that he had started a few minutes before. I felt the tension start to leave my body and I savored the feeling of his touch.

It was moments like these where I swear Blaine's fingers are made of something smoother and softer than any other man's alive. My eyes followed his hands as they passed softly, teasingly over my arms and neck and down my bare chest. His lips finally reached mine, but the kisses were so tender that it felt like lingering breath instead of actual contact. I accepted a moment of these light kisses, but found myself wanting more, and initiated more passionate contact by deepening the kiss and grinding my hips up towards his. He smiled at me again and waggled his eyebrows in what is his childish, yet classic way of telling me that he was turned on by whatever I was doing.

I felt my face flush with anticipation and longing and allowed my hands to explore his body.

I hesitated momentarily at his briefs, which was the only item of clothing between us, but pressed on when I sensed his hard erection through the thin fabric. We had made love countless times before and were starting to go on autopilot, automatically lingering on certain parts of each other's body that we knew would have particular results. He rubbed his hands along my hips and I bit delicately at his ear lobes. He flicked his tongue over my nipples and I took my nails and brushed them lightly along his lower back.

Up until this point, we had avoided touching each other's most sensitive parts, but our tantalizing touches had made us ready to press on. There were some times when we made love that were so full of passion and desire that the pace was fast and almost rushed because we couldn't pleasure each other fast enough. But tonight, between the light kisses and consistent piercing eye contact, things were slow and beautiful, every move deliberately made.

Blaine was constantly whispering words of comfort and love and like all of his other moves, when he slid himself into me, it was gentle and loving. Having him inside me, filling me up, was when I truly felt better. There was something so magical about being so close to this person that I loved, so connected, that we were almost occupying the same space. He rocked slowly, going in and out of me, alternating between kissing my neck, my lips and looking directly into my eyes. Although he told me many times, there was no need for him to tell me that he loved me then, because in that moment, I knew to be true.

After a long while, or perhaps only a few minutes, we came together, breathing harder than normal, clutching onto one another, each other's names on our lips. After a few moments of comfortable silence as we came down from our high, he pulled out of me and laid onto his back, pulling me so that my head rested on top of his chest. "Kurt, I hope that you can really understand how much I love you," he said, pushing my hair out of my eyes. "I'll be here for you until the day I die."

"Thank you, Blaine," I whispered, giving him a final kiss before snuggling into his side. Knowing that he was there for me, I fell back into a deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep.

A/N: While I love the idea of really hot passionate sex for Klaine, I really think that with a a nightmare and memories like his, Kurt would want to be close to Blaine, physically and emotionally, in a loving, gentle way. But I'm not sure if I portrayed this very well. If you have any thoughts on it I'd love to hear them! :)

Also, while writing this I wrote up two little things that go with it - from the Karofsky/garage incident - one from Blaine's perspective and one from Burt's. Let me know if you're interested in reading them and I'll add them on as additional chapters or whatever.

Hope you enjoyed - Kelsey