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Please Love Me, or I’ll Be Gone

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“Spill it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kurt stuffed a stack of sheet music back into the filing cabinet. He can organize them tomorrow. Right now, he needs to get away from Rachel and the inevitable series of questions she’s been waiting to ask for the past couple hours.

“You and Blaine were gone for an awfully long time,” Rachel says, rounding on him like a deranged cobra stalking a mouse. “And then you both showed up together looking pretty disheveled if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

Rachel moves in closer. “You said it’s a long story, and neither of us have anywhere to be, so start talking.”

Kurt opens and closes his mouth, scanning the area for a viable exit or some kind of weapon to fend her off. Rachel will forgive him eventually.

Truth is, he’s not sure what to say. The past 24 hours felt like a vivid, fever induced dream. Kurt isn’t even sure some of it wasn’t, considering how hot it was in that elevator. Then again, he can still feel Blaine’s fingers on his neck and his lips sliding against his, and if that wasn’t real, then he’d eat his entire scarf collection. Besides, telling Rachel means hearing a lecture on how he needs to move on or how Blaine is in a relationship with someone else, and Kurt knows all of that already.

“Rach, I will tell you, just not tonight, okay?” He will tell her the whole story eventually, but he likes having this particular secret for now. He wants to keep it safe just a little while longer. “I’m a mess. I’m sweaty, and I’m tired, and I just want to go home and sleep for a hundred hours before I delve back into Sue’s Magical Land of Crazy.”

Rachel deflates and takes a step back, and Kurt uses the opportunity to get past her and back into the choir room. She follows him, of course.

“Fine, but you are calling me tomorrow, Mister,” she says, giving him a pointed look, and he nods halfheartedly. “Good. I’m going home to have a soak and get some sleep. I suggest you do the same. We need our energy up if we’re going to keep up with these high school kids.”

In a blur, Rachel kisses Kurt’s cheek and walks out the door, leaving him to finish putting everything away. Typical.

He hears footsteps behind him and doesn’t turn around when he says, “Did you decide to come back to be helpful, or are you going to continue harassing me about Blaine?”

“Um, neither?”

Kurt freezes. That’s not Rachel’s voice.

He slowly turns around to face Blaine, who is standing in the doorway, watching him with an amused look on his face.

“Sorry, I thought you were Rachel,” Kurt says, and he tries to fight down the blush he’s sure is spreading down his neck. “What are you still doing here? I thought the Warblers left two hours ago.”

“They did. I just wanted to come by and personally congratulate you on your win today. The New Directions sounded great.”

“Thanks, but it’s all them. I just hang out backstage and try to keep Rachel’s ego from overinflating.”

“Well, while I’m sure that’s much appreciated, it’s clear that those kids respect you. You’re a good leader.”

Kurt smiled at him and ducked his head. “They call me Mr. Hummel. It’s so weird,” Kurt says, laughing lightly. Blaine smiles and Kurt thinks he might actually melt through the floor.

“I know, right? I’m Mr. Anderson now. It’s so adult.”

“Well, that’s what we are, isn’t it? Adults?” Kurt has never had such a hard time looking Blaine in the eye. Not even that one time back in New York when he’d walked in on Sam shaving Blaine’s back in the bathroom, and that was pretty weird.

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

Kurt holds his jacket tightly against his chest and stares at the floor. Neither of them say anything for a while and the air feels as thick as it did in the elevator and just as stifling, charged with something Kurt can’t quite put a finger on.

“Pretty freaky day, huh?” Blaine breaks the silence and Kurt looks anywhere but at him.

“Freaky,” Kurt repeats, nodding in agreement. “That puppet was terrifying.”

“Wasn’t it?” Blaine shudders. “I’m going to have nightmares about that thing for days.”

“Me too. The whole experience was really, um, scary.”

“Yes, it was.” Something in Blaine’s tone draws Kurt’s gaze to him like a magnet. He looks desperate and Kurt watches the bob of his Adam’s apple and the quirk of his mouth and the twitch of his fingers at his sides, and Kurt gets it. He knows.

“I’m still scared, I think,” Kurt says.

Blaine steps closer and Kurt can’t do anything but stand there and let him into his space. He feels numb and like he’s going to burst out of his skin at the same time.

“Me too,” Blaine says quietly, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud at all.

“Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“If those doors hadn’t opened - “

“Don’t. Please don’t.” Blaine is so close, Kurt can smell his aftershave, mixed with the scent that he recognizes as Blaine’s clean, sweaty skin, memories of hot summer nights in the loft flooding his mind, making him dizzy. “Kurt, I can’t.”

But he wants to. He doesn’t have to say it for Kurt to know it’s true. Blaine wants to close the distance between them, and Kurt would let him. He’d let Blaine back in without a second thought, because if that one kiss in the elevator did anything, it was cement the fact that he was completely and utterly gone for this man standing in front of him, pleading for him to stop whatever this is before they can’t take it back.

“Then move away,” Kurt whispers. He drops his arms to his sides and lets go of his jacket, the buttons clicking loudly against the linoleum floor, and then he takes a small step forward. It’s a challenge and it’s unfair, but if there’s one thing Kurt’s learned over the past few months, it’s that love is a fickle, selfish beast, and he can’t be afraid of it anymore.

“Kurt, please,” Blaine begs, but doesn’t move. Kurt takes another step forward, slowly raising his hands to rest them on Blaine’s waist. Blaine still doesn’t back away.

“I’ve tried to move on. To forget. But I can’t,” Kurt says, leaning his forehead against Blaine’s and slipping his eyes shut. Blaine’s breath is hot against his cheek and his fingers slide to the small of Blaine’s back and pull him in. “I love you too much to let you go.”

Blaine takes in a breath and lets it out with a whimper, and then he’s surging forward and Kurt feels the Earth stop moving under his feet. Their kiss in the elevator started out hesitantly, neither of them intending for it to be as intense as it was, but even that kiss was nothing compared to this.

Kurt’s mouth feels like it’s being branded. The soft, wet pressure of Blaine’s familiar lips makes heat spread through his entire body. It’s a slow, aching burn that ebbs and flows as their mouths move together, restlessly searching and remembering.

Blaine’s back hits the piano and he moans against Kurt’s lips. He’s grasping at Kurt’s shoulders like he’s trying to find an anchor, and it just makes Kurt want to hold on tighter, press against him harder, let Blaine know he’s not going anywhere.

Fumbling fingers loosen ties and untuck shirts as they keep kissing, unwilling to stop for more than the length of a gasping breath. Kurt tugs at Blaine’s belt, giving himself enough room to dip his hands down the back of his pants, and he squeezes and lifts Blaine up so he’s sitting on the edge of the piano, legs wrapped around Kurt’s waist. Blaine whines and finally moves his mouth away, dragging it over Kurt’s cheek and to his neck, biting and sucking, traveling down, down, pushing Kurt’s shirt out of the way to get at the skin hidden underneath.

Kurt’s so hard, has been to some extent for the past few hours, if he’s being honest. He sighs in relief as Blaine undoes his pants, then lets out a low moan when Blaine takes him in hand, pulling hard and fast from the start.

“Missed you. Missed you so much,” Blaine pants into the skin of Kurt’s collarbone, then bites down, sharp and uncontrolled, speeding up his hand while Kurt holds on to him helplessly.

“God, me too,” Kurt says, and it flows out of him before he can think about it. Any restraint either of them had went out the window hours ago and there’s no time for pretenses. Kurt’s heart is exposed, vulnerable in a way he’s never allowed before, and completely at Blaine’s mercy.

Blaine kisses him again, slowly and deliberately, swiping his hand over the head of Kurt’s cock and twisting his wrist just the way Kurt likes it. It makes it feel even better, knowing that Blaine remembers, too, that he hasn’t forgotten how to take Kurt apart piece by piece, even though it’s been months since they’ve touched each other like this.

When Kurt’s orgasm hits him, it feels like falling. He moans Blaine’s name over and over, grabbing at his back and thighs and arms, holding onto any part of him he can reach, needing to touch him everywhere all at once. Blaine drops wet kisses on his face, his jaw, his neck, soothing him as he trembles against him.

Once the aftershocks die down, Blaine pulls his hand out of Kurt’s pants, his fist covered in come, and the sight of it makes Kurt’s mouth water. He pushes Blaine back so he’s resting on his elbows, bowtie undone and shirt skewed, looking debauched and gorgeous. Blaine leans on one arm and lifts his messy hand to his mouth. Kurt’s brain short circuits as Blaine licks across his own wrist and knuckles. He quickly unzips Blaine’s pants and pulls his cock out, stroking it a couple times, not taking his eyes off of Blaine’s face as he bends to swallow him down in one go.

Blaine’s fingers are immediately in his hair, and Kurt pushes aside all thoughts of what was on those fingers, because the important thing is Blaine tugging at his scalp and writhing underneath him, hips twitching up with increasing boldness because he knows Kurt can take it.

Kurt relaxes his jaw and curls his tongue around Blaine’s cock, taking him in deeper, sucking harder, his neck tiring quickly from lack of practice, but it’s not enough to make him stop or even slow down.

“Kurt, I’m gonna, oh god, yeah, like that,” Blaine rambles, words strung together haphazardly as Kurt works him over with his mouth, tugging and squeezing at his balls before slipping his finger down lower.

It’s a strange angle and it makes his wrist ache, but it’s worth it when he’s able to work his fingers down between Blaine’s cheeks and press against his hole, and Blaine cries out and falls back onto the piano, coming down his throat in pulses. Kurt sucks him through it, until Blaine’s body stops jerking, then carefully tucks him back into his pants, the bitter tang of come lingering on his tongue. He kind of loves it.

Kurt fixes his own pants, not bothering with tucking his tank top back in, then runs his hands up and down Blaine’s thighs and waits for him to say something.

“We should talk,” Blaine says after a couple minutes. “We need to talk.”

“Sounds ominous,” Kurt replies. It’s a lame attempt at a joke, but he manages a smile when he says it, so it’s a small victory. Blaine’s right, though. They do need to talk. There’s too much history to ignore, and Kurt isn’t naive enough to think that they would just get back together right away. They’d made that mistake before, and he likes to think they’d both learned from it.

“Tomorrow, okay?” Blaine looks hopeful, and that’s a positive start. “Right now, I need to go home and deal with a few things, and tomorrow, we’ll talk.”

Blaine doesn’t say what those few things are, and Kurt’s grateful for that. He also knows that he has something to take care of as well.

“Okay. Tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Blaine steps forward and kisses him, then turns on his heel and walks out of the choir room and into the dark hallway.

Tomorrow.

Kurt is definitely looking forward to tomorrow.