Let Your Flames Rise
It was a cold and wet October day when Blaine Anderson met Kurt Hummel. He had slipped into his favorite coffee shop to get out of the rain, ordered his standard coffee, and headed for his usual spot - an oversized plush chair near the fireplace. It was such a practiced part of his routine that he almost did not notice the tall, shapely man already sitting there, and nearly ended up in his lap.
"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!" Blaine apologized to the man, soaking in everything about him from his divine soft brown hair to his gorgeous, kissable smile to the impossibly tight skinny jeans sheathing his perfect legs. Blaine's fingers itched for the brush and paints in his bag. He felt the compulsion to capture every last nuance of this beauty; the way the dim, warm lighting cast shadows across the man's face and exaggerated his angular features, the perfect colors of his lips and skin, the indescribable emotion Blaine felt just looking at him.
"Oh, am I in your usual seat? I have the tendency to put myself exactly in the way...here," he tried to stand and offer his chair to Blaine, but Blaine vehemently refused.
"Absolutely not. You can stay there if…" he trailed off, becoming aware that what he was about to say would scare the man off and ruin any chance Blaine had at seeing him ever again, which, suddenly, Blaine was very sure he wanted to do.
"If…?" The man encouraged, quirking a grin at Blaine. The attraction between them was obviously mutual.
"If...would you let me paint you?" It came out less sure-sounding than Blaine intended. He mentally kicked himself for asking.
You are such an idiot, Blaine! This is why we can't have nice things!
The man bit his lip, a slight blush coloring his neck and cheeks. It only made him more delectable. He seemed to assess the situation and must have come to a conclusion, because he nodded.
"Okay," he agreed simply. "But...only if you let me text your full name, license plate number, address, and phone number to my roommate. You know...just in case."
Blaine returned his smile. "I promise the creepiest thing I'll do with the painting is to use it as a focal piece for the shrine dedicated to you in my basement. But here's my business card. You know...just in case."
The man was laughing full out now, his voice pealing beautifully through the coffee-scented air. He looked down at the card in his hand and read the name. "Now that's some Grade A creeper material there, Mr. Anderson. I approve." He stuck out his hand. "Kurt Hummel. It's a pleasure to be the subject of your worship."
Worship was exactly what Blaine did. It was hardly one-sided, though, for Kurt adored Blaine equally. Their relationship blossomed almost overnight from one stranger painting a portrait of another to two soulmates with a deep, meaningful connection. They were infatuated with each other, never able to get enough. Things were highly physical from the outset for Blaine and Kurt. They were constantly holding, hugging, kissing, touching. But despite this, and despite how quickly their relationship was moving, the more intimate side of things had halted at the making out and over-the-clothes touching stage.
The first time it happened, Kurt was on top of Blaine, kissing him senseless and pushing his hips down into Blaine's at a slow yet urgent pace. Blaine moved his hands from where they had been resting (tucked inside of Kurt's back pockets) to tug Kurt's shirt out of the top of his pants.
Kurt flew off of him and across the bed as if he had been shocked.
"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly. "Just...uh...not today."
Blaine, though slightly surprised and a little unsure of what had just happened (he had never seen Kurt so fidgety before), agreed easily and happily climbed back over to the side of the bed where Kurt was to resume their makeout session.
It was not a one-time occurrence. It happened again. And again. And again. Blaine tried taking his own clothes off, and it happened then too. Every time Blaine hinted that they lose their shirts or pants, Kurt put a stop to what they were doing. It was starting to get a little disconcerting, and Blaine was beginning to think Kurt had some sort of aversion to seeing him in a state of undress. But Kurt was still doing things, sexy things, really sexy things, so Blaine knew that Kurt must want him on some level.
One day, things were so heated between them that Blaine thought he was going come in his pants.
"I'm gonna...Kurt...take off my clothes."
He had uttered the magic words. Kurt tore himself away instantly.
"Let's just cool down for tonight, okay?" Kurt suggested.
Blaine crossed his arms across his chest, as if trying to cover himself up though he was still fully clothed. Kurt was looking in the other direction. Was he that hideous that Kurt didn't even want to look at him? Blaine's face fell and he bravely looked to Kurt. He readied himself for rejection.
"Kurt, am I...do you not like the way I look? Is that-"
"No!" Kurt interrupted loudly. He was back at Blaine's side in a flash, taking his hand earnestly. "Holy shit, Blaine, no, no, no. Please don't think that. You're beyond gorgeous. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. I love looking at you. You're the artist, can't you recognize beauty when you see it?" Kurt laughed nervously. He bit his nails, a nasty habit he almost never indulged in anymore unless his stress level was off the charts. Blaine was reassured that the problem wasn't that Kurt didn't find him attractive, but he was worried. Kurt looked as if his world was about to come crashing down.
"What's wrong, Kurt?"
"It's not you. It's me, actually. There's...something wrong with the way I look."
"You? You're perfect," Blaine tried to scoot in closer and wrap his arms around his boyfriend.
"I'm not." Kurt shook his head gravely. "I have…" he started, unable to finish. He threw himself back onto the pillows. "I can't. You're too amazing, Blaine. I can't fuck it all up now."
"You're beautiful, Kurt. Nothing about your body is going to change how I feel about you."
A shiver ran through Kurt, because nobody had ever called him beautiful before. As afraid as he was to lose Blaine, he had to tell him sooner or later. And part of him did believe Blaine's words. But then again, Blaine hadn't seen firsthand how grotesque Kurt's body was.
"You don't understand. The guys I've dated in the past have made similar promises, and they still left when they saw me. One guy even left in the middle of...you know. It's a deal breaker, apparently."
Blaine's eyes filled with tears just watching how nervous and self-conscious Kurt was. It was clear that Kurt was deeply affected by this, and Blaine wanted to help heal that a little, if he could. "I'm not like those other guys," he vowed.
Kurt knew that. That is what helped him muster up the courage to say the next words. "There was an accident. When I was young. My mom...she didn't make it. I did, but I wasn't okay. I was burned pretty badly from my legs all the way up to my ribs. The lower half of my body looks horrid, Blaine, and I don't want you to see it." He looked at Blaine half-expectantly, half-hopeful.
Blaine shook his head sadly, causing Kurt to gasp back a sob. He looked up to see Kurt covering his heart with his hand, almost as if he was trying to hold it together and keep it in one piece.
"Those other guys were the world's biggest idiots. You're stunning."
"No. I'm not."
Blaine turned Kurt's words back around at him, a slight bit of humor in his tone. "I'm the artist. Don't you think I can recognize beauty when I see it?" Blaine launched himself at Kurt again, reaching for the hem of Kurt's shirt and trying to pick up where they left off.
Kurt, though shocked and pleased with Blaine's response, still pushed him off. "No, Blaine. I'm not ready yet. I may never be ready for that," he admitted, terrified that with each word, he was scaring Blaine away. He opened one eye to see that Blaine had lifted his head off of Kurt's shoulder and was staring at him like he was the most precious person alive.
"Okay. I just have one question for you." Blaine did not remove himself from his position on top of Kurt. He rested his forearms on Kurt's chest and placed his hands over Kurt's one that lay over his heart. "Are your burns the only thing stopping you from doing this with me? Because if you don't want it for other reasons, please say so. I would be ecstatic just to hold you and kiss you for the rest of my life, if that's what you desire. But I really want to take things to the next level with you, if you want that too. And I think you do."
Kurt covered his face with his free arm. "I do."
Blaine breathed out triumphantly. "Then maybe...could we turn out the lights?"
Kurt peeled his arm away from his face. Blaine really, truly wanted him, and he was willing to work around Kurt's insecurities. Who was this man and how did Kurt get lucky enough to land him?
"Okay, we can try. But just know...it doesn't only look weird, it is going to feel weird to you too."
Blaine kissed him sweetly, reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. "Actually, I have a feeling it's going to feel just right."
That night was the first of many that Blaine and Kurt spent in the dark, bodies tangled together beneath the sheets. When Kurt tensed up, Blaine whispered reassurances in his ear. When Kurt apologized for being damaged, Blaine kissed his burned skin tenderly. When Kurt cried with relief and love and uncertainty for the future, Blaine used his body to let Kurt know he would always be there for him. The following morning, drunk on each other and feeling more intensely connected than ever, was the first time they said "I love you."
Blaine made Kurt feel more comfortable in his own skin than he ever thought possible, but no matter how Blaine put him at ease, never once did Kurt allow Blaine to see him in the light. So that the morning light could not reveal him to the boy he loved, Kurt always put his clothes back on before bed, or went back home for the night, and he made sure to never fall asleep naked with Blaine.
Until the time he did.
Blaine awoke feeling warmer than usual. He peeked his eyes open to find that Kurt's bare body was pressed up against his. A thrill ran through Blaine at the thought of waking up unclothed next to his perfect boyfriend. Kurt groaned and rolled away onto his back, still deeply asleep.
The sheets were kicked down around their feet, and Kurt's whole body was on display for the first time. Blaine looked at him in awe. He felt like he was intruding on Kurt's privacy, seeing something Kurt didn't want him to, but he couldn't look away. Blaine studied Kurt's body, memorizing every twist and turn he could see. He couldn't even have guessed how long he spent watching the angelic man next to him.
At one point, Blaine saw the time and cursed. He had to get going. He forced himself to get out of bed and dress. He tore a scrap piece out of a notebook on Kurt's desk, drew a heart on it, and left it on the nightstand for Kurt. Smiling, he cast one last glance over his shoulder at his boyfriend.
An hour later, Kurt woke up slowly. He felt a cool breeze across his body, and reached down to pull the blanket higher up around his neck, but his hands closed around nothing but skin.
The fear that had lived in Kurt for over a decade crept up slowly as he became more and more aware of his surroundings.
He wasn't wearing any clothes.
The sheets were around his ankles.
His body was revealed.
Blaine had seen him.
Blaine was gone.
Kurt shot out of bed and dressed, a desperate urge to be covered up taking over him.
In the midst of his mad dash for clothes, he found Blaine's note, which eased his mind slightly. Still, he sent off a panicky but well-disguised text to Blaine.
To Blaine: I had a great time last night. Want to come over again tonight?
Then, after not receiving a response for an hour, another.
To Blaine: P.S. I love you. ;-)
Both went unanswered for two days.
It wasn't unusual for Blaine to fall into an artist's vortex and ignore his phone for a few days when he was working on a project, but Kurt knew he was between commissions. By the end of day two, Kurt was convinced that Blaine must have been disgusted with what he saw just like the two guys Kurt had dated before him. It was obvious that Blaine was breaking up with him. He felt devastated, but like he was finally facing the inevitable. Kurt knew he was ugly and undesirable. It had only been a matter of time before Blaine saw that too.
Finally, at 3:31am after the second day, a text from Blaine came through.
To Kurt: Come over for dinner Tuesday?
No mention of how he'd been MIA, no response to Kurt's previous texts. Blaine must have been planning on having him over for dinner to end things.
While Kurt rounded the block to Blaine's apartment, he received another text telling him that Blaine was running behind and was hopping in the shower, and that Kurt should let himself in.
He did just that, kicking off his shoes and jacket by the door and setting the pie he had baked for dessert on the kitchen counter.
Kurt could hear the water still running in the bathroom, so he wandered down the hall toward Blaine's studio.
Blaine was very private about his art, never letting anyone see it until it was finished and up to Blaine's standards of perfection. In a testament to how deeply he felt for and trusted Kurt, however, Blaine had always allowed Kurt unlimited access to his studio. It was the highest honor, being the one person chosen to have such intimate insight into Blaine's life.
An intense sadness washed over Kurt as he approached the studio, knowing it would be the last time he would have the great privilege of seeing Blaine's artwork in its rawest form.
Upon entering the studio, though, Kurt staggered backward. Just off-center in the room stood Blaine's easel with a huge canvas perched on top.
The painting was fresh. Blaine had been working on something. And it took Kurt's breath away and stopped his heart.
Painted before him, Kurt's unmistakable figure was stretched out on the canvas, long and lithe with his arms by his sides and his head tipped back slightly. The upper half of his body was as pale and flawless as Kurt's skin in real life. But starting at his feet, glowing white-gold flames licked up his body to just below his ribs, in almost the exact pattern of Kurt's burns. In the painting, Kurt's palms were turned up, holding matching glowing balls of sparkling energy that were drawing power from the fire within him.
It was clear that the person in the image was powerful, was transcendent, was someone of overwhelming importance to the artist.
Kurt had never seen anything as jaw-droppingly astounding. He was so floored that he had to take a seat, his overflowing eyes never leaving the beautiful work of art that Blaine had created.
Mesmerized and quietly weeping in a fold-out chair was how Blaine found Kurt minutes later. He put two and two together quickly. He hadn't meant for Kurt to see the painting this way; he had intended to give him some warning first. Now, Kurt was in tears over it, and Blaine felt the intense need to make it better, whatever it was.
Blaine cleared his throat so he wouldn't spook Kurt too badly before coming up in front of him and capturing Kurt's tears with his thumb, frowning in concern.
Kurt looked at him, eyes swimming with incredulity and wonder.
"What's the matter?" Blaine asked softly.
"Is th-this really h-how you see me?" Kurt spluttered, daring to look up at Blaine's face as he motioned to the painting.
So that's what this was. Through all of Blaine's professions of love and attraction, Kurt had still believed Blaine could find him to be anything less than perfect, had still been afraid that Blaine could leave him because of his scars. Blaine lowered himself onto Kurt's lap. He took Kurt's hands and placed them around his waist, then wrapped his own arms around Kurt's neck. He nodded solemnly. "You are every bit as beautiful as that painting, Kurt. But…" Blaine let go of Kurt's neck long enough to brush another tear away from the other man's cheek.
"But what?" Kurt asked, face crumpling, bracing himself for a crushing blow.
"But it's not finished."
Kurt's was bewildered. That was not what he had expected. "Of course it is. It's perfect."
Blaine shook his head. "It's not. There's a companion piece. Kurt...would you let me paint you?"
A memory of Blaine uttering the same words the first time they met flashed across Kurt's mind's eye. The warmth the memory brought with it spread through him. He held Blaine closer. "You already have."
"No, I don't want to paint a picture of you," Blaine stood up then bent down to pick up his paintbrush and dip it in the same glowing gold paint he had used on the canvas. He turned Kurt's palm upward and dabbed the brush carefully on his sensitive skin. "I want to paint you."
With a start, Kurt realized what Blaine was saying. He wanted to paint Kurt's body with the flames from the painting. Kurt had never been more terrified of anything or wanted anything more in his life.
"I...okay. Yes."
Blaine happily jumped off Kurt's lap and helped him to his feet. He positioned Kurt right where he wanted him, then lifted his hands to the buttons on Kurt's shirt.
Kurt closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. His whole body was trembling. Before the first button of his shirt could open, Kurt felt Blaine's arms wrap around him in a hug.
"Baby, you're shaking. We don't have to do this."
Kurt knew the fear was irrational. Blaine had already seen his burns and hadn't left. He had depicted Kurt in the most amazing light and he wanted more. Yet Kurt still couldn't help feeling self-conscious and uncertain. Blaine was the one. He had the power to make or break Kurt. And Kurt wanted desperately to let him.
He pecked Blaine on the cheek, determined.
"No, I want this." He started undoing his own buttons. Blaine's hands took over, his fingers brushing lightly over Kurt's exposed skin. He unfastened the last few buttons and pushed the shirt off of Kurt's shoulders. He could see the tips of the burns starting on Kurt's stomach, and he bent down to kiss the skin there, eliciting a great shiver from Kurt, who felt more exposed than ever.
Blaine worked in the same fashion all the way down Kurt's body, and soon, Kurt was completely undressed save for his briefs. Blaine got to work immediately, hands replaced by the feather soft touch of a paintbrush, covering Kurt in delicate gold tendrils of flame.
Blaine worked for over an hour, perfecting every last stroke. Kurt's head remained tilted backward, like in the picture, and he breathed in a steady, carefully controlled rhythm.
Finally, Blaine's paint-covered hands found their way to Kurt's cheeks and tilted his head back down to look at him.
"You're perfect," he whispered passionately. Kurt believed him. He was an exact replica of the painting. He was the powerful, transcendent person of overwhelming importance. His palms burned like the painted-on balls of energy were real. Kurt felt amazing.
Soon enough, however, Blaine's appraising artist's eye turned to an appreciative boyfriend's eye, and Kurt became fumbling and nervous all over again. His breathing sped up and the trembling picked up again.
Blaine kicked the paints to the side and leaned in close to kiss Kurt like he'd never been kissed before.
Kurt's hands were fisted against Blaine's back, his jaw still set with tension.
Sensing his anxiety, Blaine asked, "Do you want me to turn off the lights?"
Kurt saw the adoration and reverence on Blaine's face and everything settled into place. The tension and anxiety melted away as he decided at once that he never wanted to stop seeing Blaine look at him like that. Somehow, Blaine had managed to make him feel the most empowered he had ever felt, and for the first time in fifteen years, Kurt felt beautiful. So did he want the lights off now?
"Not a chance."
The darkness would never consume his light again.