Well, it's nearly Halloween, so here's some Halloween themed reunion fic for you! Let me know what you think! :)


He hadn't taken into account that Kurt would simply not be at home. It is Saturday, after all, and he could be out with Rachel or other friends or at work or... Blaine doesn't want to consider it an option, but he could be out on a date. He waits inside by Kurt's door for a long time before stepping out into the weak sunshine to take a much needed breath of fresh air. He's not sure what to do – he knows calling or texting would be pointless, because Kurt doesn't answer, which is the main reason Blaine is in Bushwick in the first place, hoping and praying that face to face maybe, just maybe, Kurt will finally talk to him.

When he does eventually spot Kurt coming home, he's a bit taken aback – he's dressed in a skin tight catsuit and spike-heeled boots. There is a whip strapped to this hip and a mask covering his eyes, and on his head there rests a pair of black cat's ears. Next to him are two more superheroes – a tall, slender Scarlet Witch and a rather muscular, manly looking Ms. Marvel.

The three of them are talking and laughing and don't notice him standing there. Blaine doesn't know what to say; his mind is wiped of all the speeches he'd prepared over the past weeks and the words of love and remorse he'd repeated to himself during his flight. Everything is gone and all he can do is stare as Kurt struts towards him and to nearly stumble on the broken up concrete next to his building. He's so distracted by the shift of light over the fabric clinging to Kurt's thigh, by the sway of his hips, by the way he throws his head back as he laughs and playfully swats the tall blond guy on the arm, so distracted that doesn't realize they aren't stopping. They're about to pass by, but he came to talk and –

"Kurt?" His voice comes out hesitant, quiet. He knows he looks like a frightened child staring up at the three of them – Kurt's friends tall in their own rights, and Kurt made even more so by the three inch heels he's sporting.

Kurt stops in his tracks and whips his head around. His eyes widen behind his mask. "Blaine?"

It's silent for a moment and Blaine shivers as a gust of wind hits him face on, scattering leaves across the sidewalk. "Um... we're just going to –" says one of Kurt's friends – the guy dressed as the Scarlet Witch.

"Yeah. We'll bring you something back from the diner, okay Kurt? Text us when you're ready," says the blond with the bulging arms. He doesn't seem as standoffish as the first and throws Blaine a toothy grin before grabbing the Scarlet Witch by the arm and hurrying off down the street.

"Who were your friends?" Blaine asks, not knowing what else to say.

"Oh," Kurt says, motioning distractedly in the direction in which they'd gone, "that's just Silas and Ray. Um... we should go inside."

Blaine nods and follows after him, trying to keep his eyes off the enticing roundness of Kurt's catsuit-clad ass. He doesn't have the right to look but it's really difficult not to, especially when Kurt is two steps above him and it's all he can see without closing his eyes.

At the top of the stairs Kurt slides open the door to his apartment and motions Blaine inside. He gestures towards his curtained-off bedroom area and tells Blaine he can leave his things in there. So he's not being sent away. He takes a deep breath and dares to hope.

Kurt is studying the label on a bottle of wine when Blaine returns, two stemmed glasses on the counter in front of him.

"So..." Blaine begins. Kurt looks up, his face hard to read behind the mask. He raises the bottle and tilts his head to one side. Blaine nods. A drink might help calm his nerves. "Catwoman, huh?"

Kurt laughs, pouring the two glasses nearly to their brims with red wine. "Halloween party. Genderswap superhero theme."

"Ah." Blaine takes the full glass from Kurt's outstretched hand and sips. It warms him almost immediately. "Well, you look amazing."

Kurt smirks at him and takes a long drink. "You and the creeper outside of Silas's building are in complete agreement about that."

Blaine cringes a little in apology and Kurt shrugs. He swishes his wine around, staring into his glass for a minute before cutting to the chase. "Why are you here, Blaine?"

"I just... I needed to talk to you. But you won't answer your phone."

"I didn't know what to say." Kurt takes another long pull of wine and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. His gloves are black and shiny and each finger is tipped with a sharp silver claw.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. I got that from all your messages."

Blaine closes his eyes and tries to gather his words. Maybe he is going to be sent away. Kurt seems to be doing a fairly thorough job of shutting him down. He swallows deeply, hand tightening around the delicate glass in his hand.

"Why did you do it?" Kurt asks then, his voice quieter than before. Blaine opens his eyes to find him leaning with both elbows on the counter, running his claws up and down the sides.

"I don't know," Blaine says. It comes out as little more than a breath. He really doesn't. He knows the cascade of bad feelings that led him to making the worst decision of his life, but he still doesn't know why he went through with it. Why he said yes. Why he got in his car and drove to that house. Why he got out and went inside. Why he didn't leave immediately when he began to feel the creeping anxiety and rush of repulsive feelings. "I'm so sorry," he says again, shaking his head. He wishes he knew what to say. He wishes he could make it go away. "I hate myself."

"Don't say that, Blaine. Please don't say that." He sounds like himself again, without hesitation or frostiness, just Kurt. He stands up and abandons his clawing of the counter.

Blaine feels a prickling sensation at the backs of his eyes, one that has become all too familiar over the past two months. His chin is quivering when he answers. "It's true. I love you more than anything in the world and I hurt you and nothing will ever be right again. I ruined everything –"

"Why, though? I just don't understand. Because you felt neglected? You were mad at me and thought, hey, this is a good way to get back at Kurt for being such a selfish –"

"No. Oh God, Kurt, no. I wasn't thinking about anything at all. I just – I thought you were done with me. With us. And I couldn't stand the thought of you leaving me and I just... I snapped. I don't know why. It was like I was outside of myself and I just –"

"Why didn't you talk to me?"

"I tried. When you called that day, I tried. I told you how much I'd been missing you. I tried." Blaine's tears are falling in earnest now and he wipes at them angrily as Kurt watches him. Kurt's too calm. Stoic. He finishes his wine and pours himself another glass.

"I was at work. Not the place for deep conversations. If you had said it was important, that you were having a hard time, I would have gotten rid of Rachel that night so we could have talked. Or any other night, Blaine. I'm not trying to excuse my behaviour, but you know how I get sometimes and you should have said something. I get tunnel vision, I know it. You should have told me I was being an ass –"

"Maybe I was afraid if we really talked about it, you'd tell me you didn't love me anymore." And that's it. He hasn't even admitted that fear in his own head until now. Kurt watches him, his eyes bright behind his mask. He sets down his glass of wine and rounds the side of the counter, moving closer to where Blaine is standing.

"I'll always love you. You're my Blaine." Kurt stops and leans back on his heels, wrapping his arms around his body and shaking his head sadly. "God, you cheated on me and I still love you."

Blaine watches as Kurt slides one knuckle up under his mask to wipe away a rogue tear. He sniffs and hugs himself tighter and, god, Blaine wants to replace Kurt's arms with his own and hold him so tight and tell him he's sorry for as long as it takes for Kurt to forgive him. "Even after – am I still your Blaine?"

"Of course you are," he answers almost flippantly and turns quickly on his heel. He grabs his glass and takes another deep drink. Blaine searches for something to lean against. He's so fuzzy all of sudden and he's only had one sip from his wine. He feels some degree of relief because Kurt loves him, but he still has no idea where they stand. He takes another sip and tries to decide whether or not to ask. He doesn't want to be pushy. He's already gotten more from Kurt than he deserves.

"Now," Kurt says, finishing off his wine and placing the glass back down on the counter. "I promised under penalty of death that I would go to this damn party, and you're accompanying me."

"But I don't have a costume."

Kurt hums a little, contemplating him, and Blaine feels almost naked. Kurt taps his chin with one clawed finger and smirks. "How do you feel about Wonder Woman?"

How Wonder Woman makes him feel, Blaine discovers, is exposed. He's got the stockings and the boots and the little outfit and wow, he's still quite a bit naked. And, uh, his bits and pieces aren't hidden well at all.

When he comes out from behind Kurt's fabric partitions he can feel the heat of his blush all over his body. Kurt stares for a minute before he starts to giggle.

"Blaine, you can't just go outside like that, you'll start a riot. You've got to tuck that back, sweetheart."

Blaine warms further at the endearment. "Um... how do I...?" Blaine follows Kurt's eyes down to the bulge in his blue star-spangled Wonder Woman bottoms.

Kurt waggles his eyebrows and grabs Blaine's arm. "Come on, I'll help. I became a pro just this morning."

Kurt takes off his mask and Blaine sees his entire face for the first time since his arrival. He's bending down in front of Blaine, trying to tuck him back and keep him hidden and neither of them can stop giggling. It feels like nothing bad had ever happened between them.

"Oh my god, Blaine, stop getting hard!"

"I can't help it, you're touching my dick! And your face is right there."

Kurt looks up and waggles his eyebrows again before leaning down and flicking his tongue against the head of Blaine's half-hard cock. Blaine gasps and steadies himself on the bathroom counter, but just as soon as he's done it, Kurt is backing away. Blaine looks down at him, but he won't make eye contact. He's watching his hands twist around each other in his lap.

"Did you do anything with... anything that would make it risky for us?"

And just like that everything comes flooding back, including Blaine's tears. He shakes his head, but Kurt still isn't looking at him. "No. I promise I didn't. I was wearing clothes the entire time. I didn't even..." He feels sick to his stomach suddenly and lays a hand over his gold-belted middle.

"Did you... blow him?"

Blaine feels his face crumple and then he's crying in earnest. He slides down to sit next to where Kurt is still kneeling on the bathroom floor. "No. We... we made out and I couldn't even... I felt so sick the entire time and I said I couldn't and then I left. Kurt – I'm sorry."

Kurt begins nodding to himself, his hands still twisting together. He chews on his lip and lifts his head finally. When he touches Blaine again to finish the job, his hands are like ice. Blaine sits back and watches him, silent tears still streaming down his cheeks.

When he's completely dressed, Kurt places the tiara on his head and the bracelets on his wrists and straps the golden Lasso of Truth to his belt. He reaches over and wipes away the tear tracks from Blaine's cheeks before replacing his mask and gloves. Blaine misses his face.

Blaine had forgotten all about Kurt's friends by the time they show back up. Kurt shouts at him to get the door before ducking back behind his curtains.

"Erm... hello," Blaine greets them. The tall blond Ms. Marvel pushes through and grins at him again. The other enters quietly behind, fixing his red headpiece and regarding Blaine with enormous blue eyes.

"Well, look at you," Ms. Marvel says with a whistle, taking in Blaine's costume. Blaine shifts, trying to cover himself with his arms. "I take it you feel as foolish as I do? Don't worry, a few drinks and it'll go away."

"I suppose," he agrees. "I, ah, I'm Blaine." Since Kurt is still MIA, he takes it upon himself to make the introductions.

A huge, toothy grin spreads over Ms. Marvel's face. "Oh, we know who you are, darling. I'm Ray." Blaine takes his proffered hand and shakes it firmly. He's not sure what to make of Ray. He can't decide if he's truly friendly or just really polite at being a jerk.

"Silas," says the other in a soft voice, still watching Blaine like he's some sort of exotic creature at the zoo. He stays back near the door and doesn't offer to shake Blaine's hand.

Blaine is just beginning to become unnerved with the two sets of eyes intent upon him when Kurt emerges finally, carrying a long blue coat. "Has everyone been introduced?" he asks brightly as he holds the coat out for Blaine to slip on. "You'll freeze otherwise," he tells Blaine quietly and Blaine gives him a small, grateful smile.

"We've met," Silas says at last, fidgeting with his headpiece again. His eyes have finally left Blaine and are now focused intently on Kurt, who is gathering his keys and phone and money and sliding them into small box-like black things on his belt next to his whip.

"Damn, Kurt, put your ass away!" Ray exclaims, watching Kurt as he bends over to straighten his boots."Are you seriously not wearing anything over that? Because I am not overly fond of embarrassing public erections and I can feel one coming on."

Kurt readjusts his cat ears and pulls up his gloves before turning around and giving Ray a dirty look. "Up yours."

"I wish!" Ray replies with another wolfish grin. When everyone just stares, he rolls his eyes. "Everybody's so serious. We are going to a party, you know."

They head for the subway station, Blaine shivering next to Kurt and trying to ignore the way Silas keeps watching them.

On the train Kurt slips an arm behind Blaine, hand gripping his hip, and pulls him against his body. "Are you still cold?" he whispers. Blaine can feel the points of his claws pressing against his thigh. He nods and Kurt cuddles in closer, making a sympathetic little hum.

Kurt stretches out his legs, resting his boots on the seat opposite them, in between Ray and Silas, and crossing them at the ankle. Ray grabs the top one and toys with the long heel, tapping his finger against the point.

"How the hell do you even walk in these is what I wanna know," Ray says.

Kurt levels a glare at him, lifting the foot from Ray's hand and pressing it to his chest, his leg a perfectly curved muscular arch from shapely calf to delectable thigh. He pushes Ray back against the seat and taps his claws on the dirt-streaked window. "Meow," he says. His voice is low and rough like sex and Blaine has to squirm in his seat in an attempt to readjust himself.

"Lord have mercy. Kurt, I told you to knock it off with the Catwoman voice. It makes me all tingly in my no-no place and I'm leaving very little to the imagination as it is here."

"It's true," Silas agrees.

Kurt pulls his foot away from Ray, ignoring Silas's comment. "You're an idiot," he says.

"Also true," Silas says.

Kurt snuggles down into Blaine's side, pouting lips against his clavicle. "Don't go to him to back you up, he's about two seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you to take him right here in the middle of this filthy train car," Ray says. He winks lasciviously when Blaine glances across at him.

Blaine looks away from Ray to see Kurt staring up at him. He swallows, Kurt running one clawed finger over his bobbing Adam's apple before lifting his head to whisper in Blaine's ear. "Meow." Blaine swallows again. He can't decide whether he wants the train to hurry up and get them to the party, or if he wants to stay here next to Kurt all night.

The moment they arrive, a tiny Batman kisses his cheek and takes his coat, telling him her secret identity is Lucy, and he has a drink thrust at him by someone behind an Iron Man mask. He looks at Kurt to be sure it's okay to take and he says, "that's just Manta," before leaning way down to give Lucy/Batman a hug. She giggles and whispers something in Kurt's ear while fingering the whip at his side. Blaine looks away, taking a gulp of the beer Iron Man had given him. He feels out of place and guilty for the jealousy coursing through him. Kurt has new friends – new friends who touch him and make jokes about things that Kurt rarely jokes about with anyone other than Blaine.

But then Kurt's hand is in the small of his back, leading him into the chaos of bright colours and loud music and masked crusaders and it calms him, if only slightly. He looks around and smiles a little, thinking about how much Sam would enjoy this and wishing he had thought to bring his phone so he could take a picture – not that he would have had anywhere to put it. But Kurt is carrying everything is his little utility pouches; he has a phone. Blaine leans over to ask if he can borrow it to take a picture when someone squeals his name.

He turns to find Rachel dressed as Daredevil there in front of him, and she rushes up and throws her arms around his neck. Her presence is a relief – someone else familiar, someone who he doesn't feel so out of synch with, who doesn't bring about such a strong mishmash of emotions.

"We missed you," she says, the alcohol on her breath wafting in his face. He wonders if she is using the royal we, or if she is referring to her and Kurt. He assumes it's the latter and that bothers him somehow, that she feels it's okay to talk about them as though they are a unit. A couple.

"I missed you too, Rachel," he says anyway and smiles at her.

"You look hot!" She traces the point of his tiara with her finger and grins before stretching up towards his ear, a naughty look on her face. "Did you see Kurt?"

"Um..." Kurt is right there next to them, but he doesn't bother to point that out. "I came here with him, yeah."

"He's smokin'. I mean, I've seen him naked before and everything, but there's something about that catsuit, I dunno." She leans back and widens her eyes to make her point, taking a drink of wine that she clearly doesn't need.

"There you are!" she exclaims, noticing Kurt at last and interrupting his quiet conversation with Silas.

"Hey, Rachel," Kurt greets. She practically climbs him and gives him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek before stumbling away towards a girl dressed as Mr. Fantastic.

"God, that girl has been acting so weird today," Kurt says. Blaine doesn't comment, but instead takes a long drink from his bottle of beer.

When Kurt goes off to dance with a group of girls which includes Batman, Iron Man and Rachel, Blaine ends up drinking and drinking and talking to Ray at great length while Silas stands nearby and watches. The guy seems to spend nearly all of his time watching – first Blaine, and then Kurt as he laughs and dances nearby. Blaine finds that he doesn't like the look on Silas's face.

Rachel comes back before Kurt, and Blaine leaves with her to get another drink from the kitchen. There are kegs and bottles and a guy mixing martinis dressed in a classic X-Men blue and yellow spandex uniform with a red wig and an extremely bushy beard. Blaine tears his eyes away from the guy as he attempts to levitate a jar of olives and grabs the nearest bottle of beer. He twists it open and takes a deep drink while Rachel peruses the selection of wine coolers.

"So..." Blaine says, watching as Rachel wrestles with the cap of her cooler, finally pulling the sleeve of her costume down over her hand to open the top. "That Silas guy is kind of creeping me out."

Rachel throws back her head and laughs. When she's finished being amused, she waves a hand through the air, accidentally smacking the Silver Surfer on the back. "Oops," she mutters. Blaine thinks she has completely forgotten the topic of their conversation when she pipes up again, tongue still swiping around the lip of her bottle. "He's pretty quiet mostly, but he's very sweet," she says. "Silas."

"Why does he keep staring at me?" And at Kurt.

"Because he's jealous that you're the one who's gonna be going home with Kurt at the end of the night. And you don't have to worry about me, cause I'm crashing with Lucy, just so ya know." She gives him a messy wink that's more of a blink before taking another gulp of wine cooler.

Blaine steadies her as she wobbles on her feet, even though his own insides are churning and he feels dizzy in his own right. "And does – does he usually, um... go home with... Kurt?"

"What?" Rachel snorts. "Maybe in his dreams. Definitely in his dreams," she amends.

"And does Kurt know about these dreams?"

"Oh yeah. They've talked about it before. Not gonna happen." She slaps Blaine on the bare forearm, probably meaning to be playful, but damn, it stings. He rubs at it as Rachel chooses another wine cooler, saying she's bringing it to Kurt. Blaine follows her back into the dark and flashing colours and noise of the party, his stomach still tied in knots, Rachel's words not really putting him at ease. Kurt is off the dance floor and talking to a tall girl with Thor's hammer strapped across her back, Ray and Silas thankfully absent. Rachel passes Kurt the drink she brought for him and he wrinkles his nose, but opens it anyway, cringing at its sweetness when he takes a drink. Thor introduces herself as Kimmy before coaxing Rachel away for more dancing.

"So," Blaine begins, Kurt still making faces at his drink. He probably shouldn't ask, maybe he has no right to, but he's had enough to drink by now that he feels a little disconnected from himself and he needs to know. Kurt turns to him and smiles a little and Blaine feels so small. He isn't used to Kurt towering over him the way he is with his high boots on, but he can't say it's something he doesn't like.

Kurt leans down and lays his head against Blaine's shoulder and slips an arm around his back where he taps his fingers against the bare flesh, up and up until the points of his claws are cold on the skin of Blaine's neck. "So...?" he asks, in what Ray had referred to as his Catwoman voice.

Blaine swallows, suddenly wanting to leave for reasons not related to discomfort. Well, discomfort of another sort maybe. He'd just about forgotten what he was going to say when he spots Silas out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you and Silas only friends? Because he seems a little..." Obsessed. "Besotted."

Kurt hums and strokes the back of Blaine's neck with his claws, bringing them around to run along his jaw and ear. "That's because he is," Kurt says. Blaine tenses. Kurt turns his body and lifts his head so that he's speaking directly into Blaine's ear, his voice low and rough. "He's a doll really. Sweet and patient and kind and so smart."

Blaine closes his eyes. He deserves this, he supposes. He forces himself not to move away, forces himself to keep listening.

"Only one problem really," Kurt continues, his voice even lower, his mouth so close that his lips are brushing the shell of Blaine's ear and Blaine can feel the moisture of his breath. Kurt's hand tightens around the other side of Blaine's head and he presses him closer still, his lips moving over his ear as he breathes out, "he's not you." And he takes Blaine's earlobe between his lips, sucking and flicking at it with his tongue.

Blaine lets out an involuntary gasp and slips an arm around Kurt's waist, holding onto him for dear life as Kurt continues to suckle at his earlobe, finally moving down the side of his neck – lips and tongue and teeth making Blaine's heart race and his breath stutter.

He whimpers when Kurt pulls away and Kurt's mouth quirks up at one corner. "One more drink for the road and I'll take you home," he says. "One that doesn't taste like cough syrup and shoe polish." He gives the bottle in his hand another dirty look, then bends down to press a dry kiss to the underside of Blaine's jaw. He promises to be right back and then he's gone, disappearing into the crowd.

Blaine is trying to ignore the throbbing between his legs and wondering where Lucy/Batman put his jacket when he's approached by a guy in a strange getup. Blaine doesn't recognize who he's supposed to be and is just about to ask when the guy gets far too close and tries to hand him a plastic cup of something that might possibly be beer, though it doesn't seem to have any foam.

"Mm mm, look at you," he says, and for the first time in a while Blaine remembers just how naked he is. He crosses his arms over his body.

"You are far too pretty to be standing here alone." He tries to push the cup at Blaine again but Blaine shakes his head.

"I'm here with someone. Please go away." But the guy doesn't listen. He gets in Blaine's personal space again, grinning. Blaine flinches away from him.

"Chill, dollface, I'm just being friendly. I'm not dangerous or anything."

"You are to my relationship," Blaine mutters and shuffles farther away. He does not want Kurt to come back and see him talking to this guy. He has no idea how he might react.

The guy snickers. "Jealous boyfriend, huh? That could be fun."

At this point Blaine is tired of being polite. The guy is so close that he can smell the rum on his breath and he's once again trying to push his liquory concoction into Blaine's hands. "Look, I asked you to leave me alone –"

That's when Kurt gets back from the kitchen. And the claws, as they say, come out. Kurt's eyes narrow and he hisses – actually hisses – before gathering Blaine up against his body. The drinks he'd been carrying are mysteriously gone and he's got two handfuls of Blaine's ass. Blaine's face flushes, embarrassed, because he doesn't think he's ever been more turned on in his life. Kurt is being possessive and hissing and groping him and fuck, Blaine's cock is definitely no longer tucked away.

And it only escalates, because Kurt turns to face the guy, bringing Blaine with him as he moves. He stares down his nose, his lip curled and his eyes angry and says, "mine."

"Holy fuck, Catwoman is your boyfriend? Da-amn. I would pay some serious dollar to watch that show. Hot."

Kurt starts to growl, low in the back of his throat, and Blaine buries his face in his neck. They need to leave. Now.

"Beat it, asshole," Kurt says. "Unless you want your most sensitive area to become intimately acquainted with the pointiest part of my boot."

The guy skedaddles, but Kurt keeps a tight hold on Blaine. "So are you?" Blaine whispers into his neck.

"Am I what? Willing to put on a show for that pervert?"

"My boyfriend?"

"Well that depends..." he says, one of his hands detaching from Blaine's ass and sliding up his back.

"Kurt – I won't ever, ever... I promise..."

Kurt shushes him and presses his lips to his forehead. "It depends on you... never forgetting that I love you." He runs his mouth down the bridge of Blaine's nose and over to his cheek, his jaw, his throat... "And never, ever forget that you're mine." And he bites, immediately licking and sucking at the skin to soothe the sting. Blaine curls further into him, gasping.

"Yes. Yes, I promise." His breath hitches on the last word and he presses forward against the vinyl-clad leg Kurt has slipped between his own. Blaine moans and Kurt makes a satisfied little hum. "Kurt, can we – can we please go home now?"

"Home. Yes."

Blaine stands in the middle of Kurt's apartment still shivering from the cool night air as Kurt locks the door. He feels heavy with desire, buzzing with adrenaline. Kurt had held him and touched him and whispered lust-filled promises in his ear the entire way home in the cab, stroking his bare thighs and pressing his claws under the skimpy fabric of Blaine's costume, tearing the stockings to get at skin. So now Blaine waits, statue-still and watching the dim lights from the range hood reflect off the vinyl hugging every delicious curve of Kurt's body. Kurt empties out his belt pouches, dropping everything into a bowl near the door, and then he finally turns. And he's stalking forward, his long legs, his swaying hips, his shadowed eyes narrow and wanting. Blaine sucks in a breath and takes two steps forward to meet him.

Please is all he manages to get out, then Kurt's clawed finger is resting against his lips and Kurt is shaking his head and Blaine stretches upward and reaches around for the zipper on the back of Kurt's catsuit. But Kurt takes him by the hands and shakes his head once more. Blaine couldn't have misunderstood. There is no doubt in his mind that Kurt wants this as much as he does. He must see some measure of doubt in Blaine's eyes, because he's smiling almost sadly.

"One thing first," he whispers. He lets go of Blaine's hands and reaches up, removing his mask. He tosses it across the room in the direction of the dining room table where it lands with a hollow slap. And then he is looking down at Blaine and reaching forward to cup his face in his hands. Kurt has always liked to hold Blaine's face when they kiss – to hold him anywhere, really, to keep him close. When he presses their lips together Blaine feels the air rush out of his lungs, his heart filling with unadulterated joy. It has been so long. He never thought he would ever get to experience this perfect feeling ever again. When Kurt pulls back, their lips reluctant to part, he stares into Blaine's eyes for a long, quiet moment before speaking again. "I just need you to know that I love you." And then he is untying and unzipping and Blaine's borrowed jacket is falling to the floor and pooling around their feet. Kurt's eyes are no longer soft, his touch no longer gentle. He takes Blaine's ass in his hands like he had at the party and lifts him into the air, Blaine's legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.

Kurt carries him to the bed and drops him on top of the blankets. Blaine reaches down to remove his boots, but Kurt's hand stops him. "Leave the boots," he says. His voice is deep and coarse and Blaine feels another rush of blood to his cock. He nods his head, wondering how he's going to get out of the rest of his costume with the boots still on, but he trusts Kurt will figure it out. And he does. He coaxes Blaine over onto his front and eases down the zipper, slipping his hand around Blaine's waist to unhook his belt, which he pulls away and tosses into the corner. He slides the costume down slowly, guiding Blaine up on all fours when he gets caught in the bedding. He eases it over his knees and slowly down the length of the boots, then tosses it in the same direction he'd sent the belt. The stockings are next, but there is no way to remove those with the boots on, that much Blaine is sure. He hears a short whine leave his own lips and Kurt presses a reassuring kiss against his spine, hooking his now gloveless hands into the waistband of the stockings and pulling them down over his ass.

"God you have the most perfect ass," he says, squeezing the flesh with both hands. Blaine moans and presses back and Kurt curses under his breath. He seems impatient now, pulling Blaine's stockings down along with his briefs. He curses again when they get tangled together and he separates them, pushing Blaine's briefs back up towards his ass.

"I can take off the boots –"

"No." There is a moment's pause and then Kurt is grabbing the fabric and there is a loud ripping sound – he tears the stockings in two and quickly slides Blaine's underwear down his thighs and off over the boots. "Perfect," he says again, and then all Blaine can do is moan because Kurt's mouth is on him – his teeth and his lips and his tongue. He's nibbling at the cheeks of his ass, licking and sucking at his hole, pressing his thumbs in to spread him as far apart as he can manage.

"Kurt, Kurt –" Blaine can feel saliva dripping down the backs of his thighs and he can't stop his legs from shaking as Kurt moans against him, the vibrations going straight to his throbbing cock. Kurt fucks into him with his tongue, opening him up as he eats him out, one hand holding his ass cheeks apart while the other massages his balls.

"Fuck me, fuck me, oh, please fuck me," Blaine begins, almost like a chant. Kurt growls against his ass and presses his face in closer, fucks his tongue in harder. Blaine whimpers and pushes back, moaning and pleading and hands scrabbling at the sheets for purchase as his legs shake and threaten to give out and leave him crashing to the bed.

But then Kurt is moving away and Blaine lets out a mournful no, hearing Kurt chuckle from somewhere behind him. He hears the telltale sign of a zipper being undone and glances over his shoulder to see Kurt sitting on the chair removing his boots. He throws them both aside and begins to peel the painted-on catsuit from his body. His cock has already come untucked, and it stands straight out, rock hard and rosy, and Blaine stifles another moan and licks at his lips. Kurt is watching him, eyes heavy-lidded and eyebrows arched. He comes forward and stops next to Blaine, opening a drawer in the night table and rummaging through it. He takes out a clear bottle of lube and Blaine eyes it longingly.

"Fuck," Kurt curses, both hands in the drawer now, noisily pushing things about. "I don't have any condoms. I gave them to Rachel."

"So don't use a condom," Blaine says before he can even think to stop himself.

Kurt looks over, one eyebrow raised and nods. "I guess you didn't forget the second rule," he says. He slams the drawer shut and grabs the lube, then crawls up on the bed behind Blaine, his hands running down his spine and over his ass, spreading his cheeks apart again as he gasps.

"I'm yours."

"Yes. Only mine." He drizzles lube down the crack of Blaine's ass and presses in with a single finger, working it in and out meticulously before adding another. By the time he's three fingers deep and rubbing sporadically against Blaine's prostate, Blaine's legs and very near to giving out.

"Please," Blaine begins to plead again. He needs to feel Kurt inside him and he needs him to touch his cock because, god, he's so, so hard. He whines when Kurt's fingers slide away. When he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees Kurt slicking up his cock and he pushes his ass back in his direction. Kurt chuckles, deep in his throat. Every noise that comes out of him has been going straight to Blaine's cock all night and he whimpers, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth.

Kurt's hands hold him steady and then his cock is there, blunt head pushing against Blaine's stretched out hole. Kurt enters him slowly, but that's not what he wants, not tonight. He thrusts back, forcing him in all at once and Kurt groans, his fingers hard, digging into the flesh of Blaine's hips and ass.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good on my cock," Kurt rasps. He pulls back and thrusts in, slowly, and then a bit faster, picking up speed as Blaine pants and pushes back to meet him. He's never heard Kurt talk like that all the times they've done this. Kurt has always been the quiet one, taking Blaine apart, making him babble incoherently as Kurt gasps and kisses and moans.

"Harder," Blaine begs. "Harder. Fuck me so hard." And Kurt's fingers clench, cutting into his hips, and he pulls Blaine to him as he fucks forward. The bed is shaking and squeaking, their flesh slapping together in the otherwise silent apartment as Kurt pounds into him over and over and over.

"Gonna come so hard in your perfect ass," Kurt grunts out between clenched teeth and Blaine lets out a long, low moan.

"Fuck. Fuck yes." Blaine's hands are trembling, his weight becoming too much to hold. Kurt pulls his hips back up as he begins to slump, fucking into him faster, his thrusts sending Blaine sliding closer and closer to the head of the mattress. "Come," he begs. "Oh god, Kurt, come."

Kurt practically wails his name, thrusting into him as deep as he can get one last time and shuddering, his fingers pressing into Blaine's hips hard enough to bruise. Blaine thinks, between his pants and whines at the sudden stillness of Kurt above him and the throbbing that still aches between his legs, that he hopes there are marks there, marks that he can examine and press his own fingers into when he's back home, alone, in Lima.

Kurt slumps over his back, kissing his sweaty hair, muttering nonsense words into the skin at the crease of his neck and shoulder. He rests there for a only a moment, then he's leaning back and pulling out. Blaine keens, his legs shaking even more, he begins to murmur please, please, please under his breath.

But Kurt stays still and quiet behind him. Blaine can feel his hands, soft touches now, stroking over the cheeks of his ass, moving the skin around, pressing in with his thumbs and spreading him wide. "Kurt," he says again. His cock is throbbing. He needs to be touched.

"My come is just..." Kurt's voice is so soft, gentle, amazed. Blaine glances over his shoulder to find Kurt staring in awe at his ass as he continues to work the flesh and muscle back and forth. "It's just running out of your ass." And then he slides his fingers in once again, all at once, and Blaine's moan reverberates around the room. He loses it, his elbows give out and his chest falls onto the mattress. His ass remains in the air, held that way by Kurt's firm grip, his legs quaking like a newborn colt.

"Oh baby, you're shaking," Kurt says. He continues to pump his fingers in and out slowly, still mesmerized by Blaine's hole and his own come. "Lie down," he coaxes, helping Blaine's legs down with his other hand. "There you are."

Blaine hisses when his rock hard cock makes contact with the bed. "Please." He feels like he's going to burst into tears if Kurt doesn't touch him soon. And even more so when Kurt slides his fingers from his hole. He spreads his come and lube covered hand over Blaine's hip and helps him turn over onto his back.

Kurt stretches Blaine's legs out as wide as he can and rests between them, crawling up to cover Blaine's body with his own. He keeps his hips away, however, never touching Blaine's jutting cock, no matter how hard Blaine tries to press them together. Kurt kisses him instead, languid and dirty, no finesse and lots of tongue, leaving Blaine's mouth to travel down his neck and chest, stopping for a while to lave and suck at his nipple. "Don't worry, my love," he whispers when Blaine groans and arches up, "I'm going to take care of you. Such good care of you."

He's kneeling between Blaine's legs, massaging his thighs, running his fingers along the garish red boots that Blaine still wears before grabbing a decorative cushion from the foot of the bed and sliding it under Blaine's tender ass. He slips his fingers back inside his hole, fucking them in and out once again as Blaine writhes and gasps and begs. Please touch me, please touch me, please...

Kurt doesn't tease anymore. He swallows Blaine's cock all at once, taking it in as deep as he can, the head of it coming up against the back of his throat. He swallows and Blaine's hands fist in his own hair, tugging on it hard enough to hurt, praying that he doesn't come yet, not when this is so perfect, not when he wants this feeling to last and last and last. He lifts his legs up, needing more purchase then he can get from the slippery blankets, and lays them over Kurt's shoulders, his boots sticking to the sweat-drenched skin.

Kurt sits between his splayed thighs, fingers pumping rhythmically in and out, slippery with his own come, rubbing directly over Blaine's prostate each and every time, his mouth sucking and his throat swallowing and his other hand massaging Blaine's balls. Blaine's crosses his ankles behind Kurt's head and thrusts, Kurt moaning around his cock. The vibrations tip him over the edge and he screams Kurt's name over and over as he comes and shakes and pulls his own hair.

He barely registers Kurt gently uncrossing his ankles and pulling his legs down. Hardly notices as he manoeuvres them both under the blankets and pushes back Blaine's wild hair, taking off his Wonder Woman tiara and setting in on the bedside table. Then Kurt is over and around him, holding him and kissing him and caressing him, and Blaine comes back to himself. He kisses Kurt back and rests his head on the soft pillows.

As much as everything they had just done had felt amazing, nothing is better than this – than being pulled into Kurt's arms and just held, like he is something precious. He feels Kurt's lips brush the top of his head as Kurt pulls him even closer. Blaine tries to stutter out an I love you before he's going under, and for the first time in weeks, it doesn't feel like drowning.

He's disoriented in the morning, his head pounding and his mouth starchy and stomach burning. He kicks his foot under the covers, trying to dislodge the strange weight resting against his leg, only to remember that he's wearing red and white vinyl Wonder Woman boots. He wonders for the first time where Kurt managed to find them in such a large size. But he should never wonder such things when it comes to Kurt – where Kurt manages to find items of clothing is one of the most enigmatic mysteries of the universe.

Kurt. He's lying there next to Blaine, his hair an unmitigated disaster, his face pale against the grey pillowcases. He crinkles his nose adorably and burrows into the blankets, his fingers reaching for something, finally connecting with Blaine's stubbly cheek which he pets gently, then turns over onto his front.

He sits bolt upright a moment later when a firetruck races by outside, siren blaring all the way down the street. "I'm so moving outta here," he grumbles, rubbing a hand across his forehead in a very Burt Hummel-esque fashion. "Damn sirens at all hours of the night."

"It's nine o'clock," Blaine tells him. He winces at the scratchy quality of his voice and clears his throat.


"In the morning," Blaine clarifies.

Kurt looks down at him still cocooned in the bedding and grunts something indecipherable. He pushes himself up the bed until his back is flush with the headboard and lets his head fall against the wall. Kurt's not making eye contact. He's not touching him. He's not talking, and he doesn't seem happy. Blaine tells himself that Kurt isn't much of a morning person, and add to that a probable hangover and very little sleep – and yet, he feels panic churning in his gut.

"Kurt? Last night... that wasn't because of the alcohol, was it?"

"What?" Kurt clears his own throat of its raspiness and glances down at Blaine with bleary eyes. "Of course not. Last night was because we missed each other." He reaches out his hand and places it on Blaine's shoulder. "And," he adds with a grin, "I may have secretly had a crush on Wonder Woman as a kid."

Blaine laughs. It hurts his head, but he doesn't care. It feels amazing nonetheless. "Well that explains this then," he says, and slides one of his legs out from under the blankets.

Kurt slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles. "Oh my god, I can't believe you're still wearing the boots."

"Yep. And let me tell you, my feet have never felt so slimy and disgusting. Not even that time I waded into that duck pond when your scarf blew away."

"Aww, my poor baby," Kurt says with an exaggerated pout. He fights with the blankets, wrestling his way out of bed, and shivers when his bare feet hit the cold floor. He pads over to Blaine's side and pulls out both of his legs, running his fingertips over the gaudy boots with a smile before clutching the heel of one and starting to tug. He gets the first off and drops it on the floor and reaches over for the second.

Blaine just lies there and watches him, his lips curved up in a fond, loving smile. He missed this most of all: this comfort and familiarity and partnership.

Kurt senses him watching and looks up. "What?" he asks, amused.

"I just... I really, really love you."

Kurt's eyes soften and his smile turns sweet. "I really, really love you, too." He tugs the second boot all the way off, stumbling slightly with a grunt. "And I'd better," he says, his voice turning wry, "because that's just nasty." He waves a hand over Blaine's feet, rolling off what's left of the shredded stockings and dropping them to the floor with the boots.

"And whose fault is that?" Blaine asks with mock indignation.

Kurt just laughs and squeezes his knee before straightening. "How about water, painkillers and shower? How does that sound?"

"And toothbrush. Because I really want to kiss you but my mouth is even grosser than my feet."

Blaine sticks his lips out and Kurt purses his own, leaning down to smack a dry kiss against his pout. "I suppose you want to take off the magic bracelets too, huh?" he asks, his voice teasing. He unhooks the clasps and slides them off, gently kissing each of Blaine's bare wrists in turn.

Blaine waits near the dining room table, tightening the sash on his borrowed robe. Kurt's hand is trembling when he hands over two small white pills and a glass of water. "Blaine?"

"Kurt? What's the matter?"

"I just... I need to say something. I – I'm not going to pretend that it doesn't still hurt, because it does, and I do have hope that it will someday go away, but – I need you to know... I forgive you." His voice cracks and a large teardrop falls from the corner of his eye, tracking down over the side of his nose. Blaine lays the glass and pills down on the table, judging the distance through a veil of his own tears. He threads his arms around Kurt's waist, more apologies on his lips. God, he hates himself, he hates that he's made Kurt cry again...

Kurt looks down into his eyes, silencing him before he's had the chance to say he's sorry, so sorry, sorry for the thousandth time. "Can you forgive me?" he asks.

"There's nothing to forgive."

Kurt shakes his head. "There is. You've apologized to me over and over and I haven't – I'm sorry, Blaine. I'm sorry. I promise to never, ever make you feel like you aren't important to me or that I don't love you."

Blaine feels his face crumple and he presses it against Kurt's neck. "Thank you," he breathes out.

"We've got stuff to work through, but we'll be okay," Kurt promises. He takes Blaine's hand in his and holds them both over his heart. "We'll be okay."