This is the companion story to "That Night." It is less dark than the original story, but it is rather angsty and contains rather descriptive smut. Proceed with caution, though if you got through "That Night," you should be fine. As always, thank you so much for reading and leaving your reviews!

Still don't own Glee.


The door shuts with a heavy click and seals Cooper in silence. His room is far too dark for 4pm, but then again, it always is. On first impression, Cooper had been pleased that his one and only window faced the green, lush forest behind the dorms; but in the past week, he has started to miss sunlight that got too tangled in the branches to warm his room.

Reaching across his shoulder to wrestle the heavy bookbag onto his bed, Cooper can't help but notice the ache and tension of his muscles. Although it's been just five days since classes started (easily noted by the unusual neatness of his room), he feels exhausted. Deep in the pit of his stomach squirms the uneasy admission that his fatigue has nothing to do with school.

The past few weeks have wrung him dry.

The first days following that night were filled with questions, lies, and his mom's tears. By silent understanding, neither Cooper nor Blaine mentioned anything of what had happened. Their story was short and simple, "we fell asleep, they had come in, took what they wanted, and let us live." Their parents were far too happy to see them safe and whole to press on details. Sometimes, Cooper struggled with the nagging suspicion that they were wrong to lie. He still feels a stab of guilt when he remembers entering his living room in the early morning of the next day. Blaine was upstairs, comforting their parents with empty nonsense, but Cooper announced that food was the best comfort of all and went downstairs. The living room was one of the few untouched spaces of the house, nearly unmarked by the rampage that left all other rooms shaken. Cooper's gaze flickered in recognition of mom's lavender body oil; the bottle was overturned and nearly empty, with a small pool of liquid scent oozing into the rug. When he bent down to pick-up it up, his gaze caught sight of three dead cigarette stubs and a patch of flaky, drying cum on a soft blanket. His eyes jumped to the stairs. Before his mind had processed the decision to move, he had all three items in his hands and his legs moved quickly to the bathroom. The oil on the shelf, the stubs in the sink, and the blanket stuffed into the laundry, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. Yes, he was relieved. It was that sense of grateful accomplishment at eluded suspicion, the one that hitches your breath and eases the grip on your heart when you see your lie believed. If he thought too much into it, nausea and a migraine would overwhelm his calm.

Life had moved on. What had been scattered put back in place, what had been broken, mended or replaced. The Anderson family threw itself into restoring normalcy, but not all things could be fixed with glue and nails.

Cooper was worried. That morning, Blaine had come downstairs after a shower with a soft smile and a gentle ease about his face. There was no trace of tension in his body; the languid motions of his muscles were those of a satiated lover. Cooper searched for a trace of the fourteen year old boy inside his brother.

"Blueberry pancakes? I call dibs" and there it was. Blaine's face lit up and eyes shone with a simple joy of having blueberry pancakes on a Sunday morning. "I'll mix the batter if you take the stove."


As much as Cooper wanted to believe that Blaine was going to be alright, he knew that Blaine simply couldn't be. Not completely. In unguarded moments, when Blaine thought no one was watching, Cooper saw his brother's mind wander and a shadow cross his face. Sometimes, Blaine's breath would come fast and shallow; his eyes would grow and start to mist. But other times, his fingers ran gentle circles over his mouth, his cheek, his neck, and a soft, sweet, knowing smile would settle into his lips. Cooper would watch his brother retrace the paths his own lips burned into Blaine's skin, and in a place deep in his mind, he'd wonder how low, how far down Blaine's body his fingers roamed in memory of Cooper's touch.

In almost every way, the brothers' love and lives came out unchanged. Just as before, Cooper would greet Blaine every morning with a cup of steaming hot chocolate, and Blaine would turn the radio to Cooper's favorite station in the car. They blasted music in Blaine's room, jumping on beds and couches and starting pillow fights until their stomachs ached from laughing. Cooper would help Blaine with his summer homework and doodle inappropriate pictures that Blaine would love but have to white-out. Sometimes, it felt like nothing changed. But then there were moments...when their hands would brush, or their eyes would catch, or their hugs turned far too warm. Cooper knew that there was something dangerous and overwhelming brewing between them. And he saw that Blaine knew it too.

They had always been well attuned to each other. But now, there was a new awareness, as if they had developed a new sense. It was addicting, the realization that he knew Blaine better than anyone. He got a rush every time he read Blaine's thought with a simple glance or shared his whole heart though a single gesture. It was such a high that a part of him grew to crave it; he needed to be close to Blaine, to let their ability to sense each other roam through his body. It got worse as the day of his departure grew near. He saw that Blaine marked "August 28" on his wall calendar – they both grew anxious as the day approached.

Cooper tried putting distance between them. He hoped that it would ease the pain of separation when it came. Plus, whenever his treacherous mind would remind him of the cause behind his new closeness with Blaine, he would drown in guilt. Blaine was fourteen. And a victim of trauma that borders on sexual assault. Of course he would cling to Cooper, the man who took his first kiss, first moans, first withering, twisting, coiling orgasm. It was up to Cooper to help Blaine through this. But the fact that no-one knew what happened, that they both had lied for weeks to make sure no-one knew, made Cooper's job more difficult and more important. There was no one but him to give Blaine their support.

One night, he let this responsibility settle into his bones and guide him to a webpage on sexual trauma. He tried to will himself to read victim testimonies and the list of symptoms, but within minutes his heart started to race and sweat beaded on his brow. He shut his laptop and pushed back from the desk. Blaine was not like that. It was too much, too terrible. Was that what happened? Is that how Blaine felt? His brother's face, contorted in painful pleasure, lips red and swollen from bites and kisses, body squirming and bucking to relieve the coiling tension of release, swam behind Cooper's lids. How could that be what they described? He needed water.

On his way into the kitchen for some ice, he heard the squeaking of the laundry room door. Thinking he would lend him mom a hand, he walked in and froze. It was Blaine. He was disheveled, his curls were wet and sticking to his face. A deep flush bronzed his skin and his thin boxers clung to his thighs. When he heard Cooper come through the door, Blaine jumped to hide something behind his back. It was his fitted sheet. Looking so guilty and upset, Blaine avoided Cooper's eyes and bore a hole into the floor with his twisting toe.

"You were a teenager." He mumbled in defense. "Once."

"Yes, I am ancient now. Lucky for you, with age comes wisdom. And you put the wrong detergent in the wash."

Cooper walked over to correct Blaine's mistake before letting his brother hastily stuff the soiled sheet into the machine. On their way back upstairs, both holding cups of water, Blaine turned to Cooper with intent.

"Sometimes, it just overwhelms me. Now that I know what it feels like, my body just…" he gets too frustrated to continue. "Even in my dreams, it feels more real."

Cooper wrapped a hand around his shoulder and pulled Blaine close. "I know." They clung to one another, taking comfort in the familiar press of chest-to-chest. Blaine lay his head against Cooper's heart and let its thudding rhythm lull him to sleep. When Cooper settled Blaine back into bed, having replaced the bedding, he pressed a kiss into his curls and turned to leave. On his retreat, Blaine caught his hand.

"Just tonight. Just stay."

Snuggling deeper into the mattress and pulling Blaine rest across his body, Cooper knew that it was far from over. Whatever happened between him and Blaine was still alive and only growing stronger.


He has homework, but it is Friday. With great conviction, Cooper mentally announces today "Lazy Internet Surfing That Ends Up in Porn" night. His grand plan has one flaw – it is the first Friday after summer vacation, which means that all his friends will want to celebrate their reunion by replacing blood with alcohol in every bar on the Ave. The thought sends a new wave of exhaustion to crash over Cooper. No, there is just no way he is leaving his room tonight. Since he still doesn't know his friends' new schedules (technically, he doesn't even remember his own), he forgoes texting in favor of shooting Lance a quick email: "Fucking dead tired. If I get smashed tonight, I may never wake up. Go on and wreak havoc without me." In minutes he receives a response, "Summer made you weak! And there is no havoc without you. Fine, be a pussy. But we are still on for Sunday practice, right? We need to get back in shape for the season. Enjoy your night in (don't sprain your wrist)!"

Stepping away from his computer, Cooper starts changing out of his street clothes into something more comfortable. The process of pulling his shirt over his head transforms into a deep, full body stretch and a giant yawn. God, he is so tired.

He hasn't been sleeping very well. When he blabbed this tidbit to his mom during her regular check-in, she went very quiet and muttered something like, "Well, it is completely understandable. Given what you went through." Cooper knows that his parents have come to learn that they were somehow at fault for what happened that night. As if their leaving the boys had somehow provoked the attack on their home. Cooper thinks it is absolutely ridiculous and tried telling them that whenever they would share looks of mutual guilt. Therefore, he quickly retracted his complaint about lack of sleep, dismissing it as the by-product of university budget cuts and absolutely atrocious mattresses.

"Believe me mom, if I were sleeping on a Tempur-Pedic, I would be snoozing like a lamb."

Except the mattress has nothing to do with it. Unfortunately, neither does the attack. At least, not in the sense his mom had meant. At the age of 22, Cooper Anderson started having wet dreams. It started just over a week ago, and it was slowly driving him crazy. He thought surviving puberty entitled him to a reprieve from this embarrassment and frustration. As a matter of pure practicality, he only had so many sheets. He had never done so much laundry in his college life.

But the dreams keep coming, and he knows exactly what caused them. The incident occurred about two weeks ago. He avoided masturbating in his parents' house as a general rule; since moving out, he felt like a guest even in his own old bedroom. But he is a twenty-two-year -old man. So that night, he reached into his pants and drew his cock out beneath the sheets. He quickly fell into a familiar rhythm, tightened his fist and twisted his wrist with practiced ease. His cock swelled and his body started to respond to the stimulation, but it was not enough. He let his mind wander to latch on the nearest fantasy that could send him over the edge. When it hit him, the fantasy burned like acid through his veins.

Heat, tight and punishing, pressing on his cock; strong legs, steady on his hips; a body, small but firm, gliding on his chest from every thrust; a neck, tense tendons and a pulsing vein; a face, so familiar and so sweet, open to his gaze; those eyes wide and focused on their mutual pleasure; and a scent, of sweat and spring, and home. Cooper cried out and spilled across his fist.

When consciousness slammed back into his chest, he twisted off his bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He'd come. He came on memories of his brother's rape. Collapsing on the tiled floor, he let the nausea consume him. But he could not purge the sickness in him. Nothing came up, just rumbled through him.

He knew this could destroy them. They had survived the night, but at a price. Those hours were a world onto themselves – with different rules and different needs. To come out alive, and come out human. But now, what was imperative in those few hours was feeding hungry guilt and sick desire.

Blaine. He must feel this too. Cooper remembered the moment Blaine reached to strip him, the look of perfect self-control, face tight and jaw clenched shut, as his hands trembled at the hem of Cooper's shirt until Blaine's will stilled them. Blaine's mind can do amazing things – like will his body to act against him. The memory lit a certainty in Cooper's mind. Blaine wasn't alright. He was trapped. Trapped in his mind, forever stuck between the paradoxes of consent and rape, of pleasure and assault, of love and incest.

The urge to burst through Blaine's bedroom door, to grasp him, hold him tight, and force his mind open, propelled Cooper to his feet. Blaine needed to speak; he had to let the battle taking place in his head find an escape. And there was no one else but Cooper to hear him. On his way out the door, Cooper brushed the doorknob with his hand. The hand covered with cum. His cum. The cum he spilled on memories of Blaine's tight body. The thought stopped him dead. He couldn't move forward, walk to Blaine's bed in the dead of night – could he trust himself to lie in his brother's bed, hold him to his chest, run his hand through the curls he can remember plastered to his face with sweat?

It was a betrayal. Cooper knew Blaine needed him, but he did not come to help him. It was not safe. So he let distance build between them.

Since that night, he had not masturbated once. Just several nights later, he had his first wet dream.

The dreams are at once a better and worse alternative to active fantasy. Conscious fantasy is intentional, while dreams sweep over your mind under the guidance of some foreign power. The lack of control veils the dreams in some sense of blamelessness. Cooper cannot ever again experience the shame of chasing memories of Blaine's body to bring himself pleasure. This sense of avoided guilt is mediated by the fact that his dreams rock his body into chest-heaving, mind-reeling orgasms. Since he cannot consciously control the fantasy, he cannot stop it from morphing into a million ways of bringing Blaine to ecstasy. His nights are spent exploring Blaine's every crevice with his tongue and fingers, tasting even those parts of him that Cooper left untouched that night. Cooper has felt the arch of Blaine's foot, the solid weight of his shin, the muscular strength of his thighs, and the heavy length of his cock. In his sleeping hours, he drinks Blaine's sweat and cum, bathes his tongue on the dark flavor of his entrance. And every morning, he wakes to guilt and sticky bedding.

Tonight, the dreams will end. Cooper commits to watching so much porn, that nameless, faceless bodies will replace soft, dark curls and amber eyes.

Slipping into a pair of sweats and stripping down to his undershirt, Cooper collapses on his bed with his laptop and a pair of headphones. His feet register a tickling vibration – his phone is buzzing in the bag. Pulling it out, Cooper sees that it's a text from Ryan "Just talked to Lance. WTF you are not coming? Are you sick?" He fires off "Just don't want to see your face. See you Sunday." before setting his phone on silent. Ryan will not be the last to try to reach him; he will deal with all of them later, now he just needs some space.

Twirling his phone between his fingers, Cooper battles temptation to call Blaine. They haven't spoken all week, and the only communication between them has been four text messages, the last of which read "busy with school, will call on the weekend." Cooper hates his weakness. Blaine needs him, and he is not there. He swipes his fingers across the screen and reaches into his call log. He has to scroll for far too long to find Blaine's name. Hovering over the number, Cooper stalls. If he calls now, he knows Blaine's voice will echo in his dreams all night. Tearing hand off the screen, he throws the phone onto his nightstand and settles against his headboard.

Several hours and several weeks-worth of The Daily Show later, Cooper plucks the headphones off his head and stretches with a yawn. His muscles are so sore he starts to reconsider the mattress hypothesis. A quick glance at the clock tells him it's approaching midnight. Maybe his is tired enough to forgo the porn. The thought of wanking-off feels like a chore. He sets the laptop aside and rubs at his eyes.

The knock on his door is startling, but soft. The thought who is it? does not have the time to flash through his mind before it is replaced with mild aggravation. His friends are so annoying. Probably piss-drunk and looking to drag him out for last-call. Opening his door with a rebuke hanging off his lips, he gasps.

It's Blaine.


"Can I come in?"

Blaine is soaking. His hair is plastered to his head and his shirt clings to his body. His windbreaker is so wet, it looks ten shades darker than it is. A sloshing sound announces that his shoes are just as drenched and a pool of water gathers in the carpet of the hallway. Cooper takes in the sight with mild horror.

"Get in here! What were you thinking! Take that off right now!" Cooper frantically tugs at Blaine's clothing, dropping the jacket in a corner before rushing to his drawers. "You must be freezing. What will I do if you get sick? Here, put this on." He grabs the warmest pair of pants he owns, fleece underpants he wears for skiing, and the fluffiest, thickest sweatshirt he can find. Throwing them at Blaine, he sees that even undressed, Blaine looks completely wet. "Wait," turning back to his closet, Cooper starts the search for towels.

Blaine stands and shivers in his boxers. His eyes trail Cooper; they are a little hesitant and guarded. There are a million reasons why he should not be here. Starting with the fact that he had no permission to come. His parents will kill him. He is probably grounded until the end of time. Blaine knew that sneaking out of his house to take a bus in the dead of night from Westerville to Columbus was one of stupidest and more reckless things he'd ever done. But he needed Cooper, and his every call had gone to voicemail.

"Aha! Here it is" Cooper resurfaces from his closet with a towel. Instead of handing it to Blaine, he wraps the towel around him and presses Blaine into his chest. Their hug is tight and a little desperate. It feels like Cooper is trying to push warmth back into Blaine. At first, Blaine's arms hang limply at his side until they come to clutch at Cooper's back. He takes a shuddered breath, letting Cooper's scent fill and calm him. With his head resting on Cooper's chest, Blaine's hands grip his brother's shirt and his breath keeps catching in his throat. He is so close to tears.

Cooper can sense his brother's tension, feels his chest heaving and hitching rattled breaths. Bringing a hand to ease into Blaine's curls he leans back and looks into Blaine's face. The wetness of the rain had masked the trails of tears that left his face a little red and swollen.

"Hey, there is no need for that. You are here. You're safe." You are with me. "Here, put this on and we will get you warm."

Shuffling and hopping on one foot, Blaine quickly wiggles into Cooper's clothes, looking all the smaller and younger in the way their drape his tiny body. When he is done rubbing the towel into his hair, Blaine looks all the more adorable with his curls tightly twisted on his head.

"I take it mom and dad will be surprised to find you missing." Blaine blushes and looks charmingly sheepish. Avoiding Cooper's eye, he traces patterns on the bedding.

"I really needed to see you."

"Then it's a good thing that you came." Blaine's eyes dash to Cooper's. He had been so scared that Cooper would just kick him out. He knew that Cooper wouldn't, but a kernel of doubt, which grew stronger with every call that went unanswered, fed his fear.

"Thank you."

"Don't be an idiot. You are always welcome. Next time, just call me – I would have picked you up."

"I tried. My calls just went to voicemail." Cooper grabs his phone off the side-table – twelve unheard messages.

"Fuck, Blaine, I am so sorry! It was on silent cause…oh fuck it!" Cooper pulls him in. There is no need for explanations. "I am sorry. And not just for tonight. I know I should have been there more. That I still should be. I just don't always know how." He mumbles into Blaine's ear.

"It's OK. You are here now."


"Blaine's with me. He is alright. Do not come get him. We will call tomorrow and figure out how to get him home. Love, C."

After a quick message to their parents, Cooper refocuses all of his attention on Blaine. He quickly folds his wet clothes and sets the sneakers by the radiator to dry. Moving across the room, Blaine occasionally trips on the long hem of his borrowed sweatpants, pulling them down on every second step. Puffs of exasperation mark every time he has to wiggle them back over his hips. Cooper leans into the wall to watch him, an adoring smile gracing his face.

"Hey, come here." Cooper interrupts Blaine's feeble attempts to straighten up. As Blaine shuffles forward, Cooper holds out his hands. "What's going on? You didn't risk our parents' wrath to tidy up my room."

"Sorry, nervous habit." Blaine's mumbling tickles his neck. "All night, I was just trying to get here. I couldn't hold still – I needed to see you. And on that bus, every minute just fed this sense of urgency. I think I was so desperate, I forgot to fear the punishment, the risk of failure. But now that I am here, and you're here, I wish I had more time to think. There is so much I want to say and need to hear. But never did I think I would have no idea how to begin."

Cooper can see Blaine's frustration. They both don't want to mess this up. Cooper knows that by the end of this night, they will both say so much, reveal so much; they'll cry, and trust, and love, and fear. For months, they have held in many thoughts and feelings that tonight will spill between them. It is the anticipation of this release, of doubts and lies and unspoken truths that settles Cooper's nerves with a preemptive calm.

"Let me get us some tea. Just get on the bed and let your thoughts slow down." With a final kiss into his curls, Cooper pushes Blaine toward the headboard and reaches for his "pantry" - it is the deepest shelf in his desk, where a stack on Top Ramen and some chips is nearly overshadowed by a stash of teas. In little baggies and in tin cans, the tea is arranged a bit haphazardly by length of brewing – white, green, oolong and black (1-2 minutes for the first two and 2-3 minutes for the others). Cooper developed an addiction to tea once he discovered that coffee was a migraine trigger, and threw himself into discovering every possible tea combination that could drag him awake for morning lectures. By now, he had an impressive collection of teas for any occasion. Right now, they needed Moroccan Mint and a just enough chamomile.

When he turns back with two steaming mugs, Blaine is already on the bed, snuggled deep into Cooper's comforter and looking flushed but cozy. Setting the tea on his nightstand, Cooper crawls into his bed and pulls Blaine into his side. A silence settles on the room, so deep and thorough, Cooper imagines he can hear the steam rising off their mugs. Blaine's eyes focus on a snag into Cooper's shirt and his fingers start to twist around the loop of thread.

"How do you think they knew?"

"What?" Cooper momentarily thinks he must have dozed off and missed some part of the conversation. "Knew what?"

"The men. How did they know I am gay?"

"What!" He pushed Blaine off his chest and stares into his eyes with a new-found desperation. "What are you talking about? Why the hell would that matter?"

Blaine can't meet his eyes and his cheeks burn with humiliation. "They must have known. Why would they want to..." his voice dips into a whisper, "fuck me. If they didn't know. And that man called me pretty. Men are not pretty. So he must have known."

Cooper's mind reels with everything wrong with what Blaine just said. For a moment, he just gapes and tries to grapple with the idea that somehow this though lived in Blaine's head. That of all the thoughts eating away at him, this was the one that Blaine uttered first.

"Blaine, you know that's not why that happened. It had nothing to do with anything you did, or anything about who you are. Those men were monsters. They just wanted to hurt you. He called you "pretty" because he was a twisted, ugly soul – a pedophile and complete creep. And you are beautiful, not as a sexual object and a toy, but as a beautiful amazing human being." Blaine twists out of his hands, but Cooper pulls him back in. "You are a man. In more senses than I could ever be. You are so brave, so head-strong. I may not say it enough, but I am unspeakably proud to be your brother. And the only reason I don't tell you that every day is because I am reminded of it every moment. What you just said, it breaks my heart. And you are so wrong. Nothing about what happened to you was any of your fault. And just as importantly, being gay makes you no less a man."

Blaine's eyes are misted with welling tears and his face is scrunched in pain. He stares at Cooper, lips trembling around a question. When it slips across his lips, he looks so helpless and yet hopeful, as if the answer could damn or free him.

"Then why did I come?"

The question breaks whatever walls that held Blaine up and he collapsed into Cooper's chest. Sobbing, Blaine twists his hands into Cooper's shirt and just holds on as misery and shame wrack his body. Cooper grabs his brother's body in a powerful squeeze, as if it could keep Blaine from bursting. Soon, Blaine starts to speak against hitching breaths and rattled sobs.

"I came. It felt so good. I felt complete and happy. You made me feel so safe. And now, I feel it in my dreams. That one time you caught me was not the first. And it is just getting worse. God, I must be such a pervert! Gay and coming every night on memories of his brother's fingers. I am so sorry, Cooper! I know you must want to forget this, and I am just reliving it each night. But I can't forget. And somehow, the fear and horror of that night can disappear if I focus on you. But when I do, I feel your kisses and the guilt! It fills my body and I am so ashamed!"

"God, Blaine. Shut up. You think I don't feel the same?" This stops Blaine dead. For the first time since he buried himself in Cooper's arms, he twists to look back at his brother. Cooper's gentle smirk and loving gaze ignite a hope in Blaine's eyes. "Why do you think I have tried to keep away? To give you space? It has been killing me, knowing that I am leaving to you to deal with all this shit. But every time I saw you, I would remember your taste, the feel of your body, slick with sweat. And yes, the guilt. It sounds familiar."

"And this might sound sick, but I am glad. Glad that you liked it. You have no idea how much that means. Blaine, I know how hard this must have been for you, but it has been hell for me too. Knowing that I took something from you that you can never get back. That it was forced, no matter how much you tried to give consent. So hearing you say that it brought you pleasure, that there was something about that night that brought you some joy, it means everything. You have no idea how much I worried, that it had hurt you, scarred you some way, or twisted your relationship with sex."

"Well, it might have done that! I mean, now all I can think about is you. That's pretty twisted." Blaine's soft laugh and teasing smile crumble the serious expression on Cooper's face.

"I will have you know there is nothing wrong with fantasizing about me. I hear I am quite the sex-god among men." It is shocking how quickly a conversation about rape and incest descends into their usual banter.

"Who told you that? The mirror?"

"Says the man stuffing his sheets into the washer at 2am."

This earns Cooper a beautiful dark blush across Blaine's cheeks. "Dork."

"Goof." Blaine gives him a wide, whole-hearted smile at the sound of his pet-name. The sight of this smile, spreading happiness and ease across his face, draws Cooper's eyes to Blaine's full lips. Blaine feels them break eye-contact and settle on his mouth. As if compelled by a mirroring reflex, Blaine's eyes are pulled to Cooper's parted lips, so lightly open that he can just make out the line where skin turns darker and more moist. Lost in memory of that mouth, its heat and flavor, Blaine recalls sharing breath after breath in cavern of their joined mouths, breathing each other and through each other. He remembers the weight of Cooper's tongue, and then the weight of Cooper's cock. His breath starts hitching as his heart starts to race. They are so close, he can smell the light scent of Cooper's body, now so familiar and so dear. How desperately he earns to breech the gap between them, to lean in and let Cooper's mouth take his! The fantasy is so strong, the memory so close to the surface, it takes Blaine a moment to register when Cooper's lips press into his own.

And then, it's like they never parted. The kiss is slow and gentle, so unlike the kisses that they had shared before. If earlier, they were spurred on by desperation, fear, and heady arousal, now they explored each other for the sake of mutual want. Blaine's eyelids fluttered as he moaned into Cooper's lips, letting his own fall open in invitation and a plea. As Cooper's tongue caress Blaine's in greeting, he felt a swell of warmth to crash over his heart. His hand reached up and wove into Cooper's hair, settling at his very root. The unexpected moan reverberated into Blaine's mouth and nearly surprised him into freezing. Never before had he felt Cooper moan into his mouth. It was an intoxicating sensation.

Cooper brings his arms to wind around Blaine's body, pulling him to lie flush to his chest. Heartbeat-to-heartbeat, they lie and breathe into each other. When their feet tangle under the sheet, Cooper pulls back with a broken yelp.

"Your feet! Jesus, they are freezing!" He looks so scandalized, Blaine can't help but giggle. "There is nothing to laugh about, Oh Chilled One. Hold up, let me get you some socks." Cooper climbs out of bed with a slight shiver at the abrupt exposure to cool air, and quickly returns with a pair of hideous argyle socks. "For that, you get Aunt Maggie's present."


Once Blaine's toes are wiggling under the wooly pattern of lime and fuchsia, they settle back into bed with Cooper against the headboard and Blaine resting on his chest. He makes a point of weaving his feet in between Cooper's legs and resting them flat of Cooper's shins. When he glances back at Cooper, his eyes hold a mischievous glint and Cooper's face breaks into an adoring grin. "What a pest," he mumbles lightly before tugging's Blaine chin to bring their mouths together. This kiss is chaste and simple – there is no rush, they've got all night. He continues stoking through Blaine's curls, letting the soft brush of every twisted loop tickle the webs of his fingers. Their breath is deep and even, until their every inhale and exhale is a match. It seems that even their heartbeats synch in their chests.

"It feels far too easy. You'd think it would be harder to fall in love with your big brother. But it wasn't." Blaine speaks with a deep calm, his voice sure and strong, as if the words are something he has told himself many times but never in this intonation. "I know that it is wrong, but most of me has forgotten why. I have loved you all my life. This feels no different, just more. I am not saying this very well, am I?" He turns to press a kiss into Cooper's shirt, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "When I started feeling this thing, growing in me, everyday growing bigger, and brighter, and heavier in my heart, I knew that it was love. And I knew that it was wrong. Looking at you, I would feel pulse with every heartbeat, bringing this wrong love to every cell in my body. And I would remind myself that you are my brother. That I couldn't let myself love you, that it would ruin everything. And I would doubt, whether it was just because you took care of me in a way no one ever had. Because we shared something I have never felt before."

Blaine pulls himself off Cooper's chest and turns to face him. "But with every day, as it would grow in me, it took me longer and longer to remember why it was wrong. Why you being my brother was more important than the fact that I loved you. And then this new love, new way of feeling about you, became completely fused with the way I have always loved you. That's what I mean – it is like it ever was, but just more, more complete and whole and pure. Like this love has no limits. And there is still some part of me that remembers that I shouldn't feel this way, but there is now no part of me that thinks it's wrong."

Cooper tries to will his heart back into beating. It froze when he heard the phrase "fall in love" and hasn't regained function. For weeks, he has tried so hard to not think, to bury the feelings bursting in his heart in some untouchable, unspeakable place and leave them nameless and unprocessed. Hearing Blaine speak brings down the barriers holding those thoughts contained and lets them flood him. As they sweep through him, feelings find names and thoughts latch onto memories and together weave fantasies for the future. Once the dust settles, Cooper is mildly surprised to find himself unchanged. Having worked so hard to keep these thoughts contained, he finds it curious that their release was entirely anti-climactic. He simply loves Blaine. He has always loved Blaine, and he loves him now. But more, now more than ever.

"You're right. It's just the same. Only with an extra dash of wanting to kiss you."


Blaine's hand is heavy on Cooper's chest. His head rises and falls with every inhale. In this new silence, his ears buzz and his head is dizzy – so many thoughts that had been fluttering frantically for weeks now lay quiet and settled. It left him light-headed. Only the grounding heat from Cooper's body kept him anchored to this room.

"Hey, you remember that night dad took us camping?" Blaine nods into Cooper's chest, but doesn't budge from his new favorite position, tucked under Cooper's arm. "They slept in the tent, but you wanted a real adventure. So we convinced mom and dad to let us roll the sleeping bags out on the grass. It was freezing and so uncomfortable, but you were so excited to sleep under the stars."

"And you told me stories about the constellations. About the scattered cereal blow and how the twins came down to breakfast, but there was only cereal left for one, so when they started to pull on the bowl, it shattered and slipped the stars across the sky." Blaine closes his eyes and sees the silhouettes of tall, dark trees stretching into the sky, where cereal kernels glisten against the backsplash of the night.

"Do you remember when we started to fall asleep and grew quiet - suddenly there was so much to hear. Like the entire forest had come alive after crouching in the corner, waiting for us to doze off. And we were too tired to think, and all we could do was let this whole world move around us. I feel the same way now. Like we've been thinking, and feeling, so much for so long that now with all these worries and this guilt silenced, we can open ourselves to something new and beautiful."

"Cooper?" Blaine rose on his elbow to look down into Cooper's face. "I love you."

Bringing a hand to the back of Blaine's head, Cooper pulls him forward close enough to mumble "I love you too" into Blaine's lips. Their kiss is deep, exploring. Cooper's lips envelop Blaine's, pulling them between his teeth and giving them a teasing nibble. When Blaine's full weight settles on Cooper's body, their kiss grows stronger, their tongues surer. There is strength to their muscles as they move into each other, diving closer into each other's heat. Blaine's helpless, pleading moans tease and provoke until Cooper's hands quit their mindless wandering over Blaine's back and settle on his ass. The muscle beneath his palm is taunt and full. Blaine's body jerks and melts when he sinks his fingers into the sides of Blaine's seat and pulls Blaine down against him.

"Oh, god!" Blaine tucks is face into Cooper's neck and catches several breaths. The cock pressing into Cooper's stomach is hard and aching. Grabbing Blaine's ass with great intention, Cooper pulls him down until Blaine's crack rests right against his inseam. He braces against the mattress with his feet to roll his hips, pressing his answering erection into Blaine.

"You're hard!" the surprise in Blaine's voice pulls Cooper from his haze.

"Of course I'm hard. Where have you been the past few minutes?"

"But…" Blaine's cheeks burst into flame and he averts his eyes. "It's just last time…you weren't. And I thought…"

"Stop. First of all, do me a favor and ban the phrase "last time" for the rest of the night. And of course I'm hard. You're hot! In case you haven't gathered, I am a bit inappropriately attracted to you. Damn, Blaine, don't you know you're beautiful? Give me your hand." Cooper grabs Blaine's wrist and interweaves their fingers. "You are beautiful, not because you make me hard, which you do, more frequently than I would care to mention. But because you make me love you so deeply and in so many ways, that I can't bear to keep my hands off you."

"Then don't." Pulling his hand out of Cooper's, Blaine twists the sweatshirt over his head and grins back at his brother. Cooper does the same with his own t-shirt and lays Blaine back against the pillows. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches for the edge of Blaine's pants, excitement and self-control warring in every muscle fiber. Sinking his fingers behind the elastic, he pulls down both the sweatpants and Blaine's boxers, which are still slightly damp from his time in the rain. With one decisive flourish, he rips the clothing from Blaine's body, leaving his brother naked and giggling at his antics.

"What do you think? Should we keep these on?" He traces the edges of the socks, grinning at Blaine's happy smile. "They are quite dashing. And we could rename them into Sex Socks, and then tell Aunt Maggie that her present has actively starred in many a sexual exploit. Just imagine her face at the next Family Dinner!"

Blaine shakes with laughter, adored and cared for under Cooper's hands. At last, the socks come of and Cooper presses a trail of kisses from Blaine's ankle and up his leg. When the final set of kisses dry against Blaine's hip, Cooper leans forward to trace Blaine's face with feather-light fingertips.

"Could you get the lube?" Blaine looks purely hopeful, his pupils blown and breathing shallow. His lips are already swollen from Cooper's bites and kisses. It looks so innocently filthy, Cooper has to take a fortifying breath before reaching across Blaine's body to the drawers. Tossing the bottle and a pack of condoms on the bed, he can't help but think, "at least we have lube this time." With a glance to Blaine, he registers the wicked smirk of his brother's face.

"I know I promised not to mention it again. But, I am just so happy it's not lavender."


They revel in the freedom to touch, to taste, to suck and tease. Blaine's hands are eager and soft as they explore the planes of Cooper's back, digging the heel of his hand into the grove of Cooper's spine and running his fingers along the bumps of protruding ribs. Instinctively, he brings his legs to wrap around strong thighs and hook behind a jutting hip-bone. With new-found leverage, Blaine pulls himself up and into Cooper's heat, letting their groins press in luscious friction. Heat builds between them as their skin turns slick with sweat. Moans color the room in a shade of sex.

When Cooper pulls out of a heated kiss, his mind racing and his breath moist and thick, Blaine follows him with a disgruntled groan.

"Jesus, Blaine. Wait, just wait a second." Cooper captures Blaine's hands and presses them into his side. Dropping his forehead on Blaine's shoulder, Cooper closes his eyes and tries to regain control of his rapid heartbeat. "You turn me on so much. Those sounds, the way you move. You are fucking irresistible." With a series of harsh kisses into Blaine's collar-bone, Cooper pulls out of his arms and climbs off the bed. Flicking off the light, he kneels at the foot of the bed and stalks across Blaine's body. His eyes are wild, glimmering with fantasy and intent. When he settles his weight between Blaine's legs, spreading them wider and setting Blaine's heels to rest on his back, his intent becomes clear.

Blaine's cock is flushed and twitching under Cooper's gaze. A pearly drop of precum gives off a hollow gleam as it beads at the tip, just waiting for a tongue to taste it. Cooper wraps a steadying hand around the base, feeling Blaine's stomach jump at the contact, before leaning close enough to scent Blaine's arousal and breathe heat on his cock. It feels like fire, and Blaine is helpless to contain the broken moans spilling from his lips. A swipe of the tongue across his cockhead, and Blaine is lost. His eyes roll back as exquisite tension presses on his spine. It only gives way when Cooper sinks his mouth lower, lower, until his lower lip is touching Blaine's balls and his nose is buried in coarse dark curls. On the upstroke, Cooper hollows his cheeks and pulls the heavy flesh back into his mouth even as he pulls off it. Slowly letting the length refill his mouth, he notices that it grew thicker, longer – he is bringing Blaine to full hardness, and the thought sends a spike of arousal down to his own, neglected, cock.

As he sinks deeper, the head starts pressing on palate. A wicked thought flashes through his mind. Without warning, he shifts angles and thrusts the cock into his throat. Blaine arches of the bed, his eyes blown and mouth gaping. To avoid releasing the cockhead from the depths of his mouth, Cooper follows his movement as Blaine bucks into the ridged pressure around his cock. His reactions are delicious, and Cooper wants to draw out every bit of pleasure Blaine's body can experience. He starts a rhythm of deep, penetrating swallows that press the walls of his throat against Blaine's sensitive flesh. There is nothing more intimate than giving your access to air in exchange for another's pleasure – it is intoxicating to be so vulnerable yet so empowered. It feels like overcoming the limits of nature in an effort to bring someone to the edge of ecstasy and throw them over. But soon his throat feels raw and his lungs start burning. Pulling off, he brings a hand to wrap around Blaine's cock as he catches his breath. The cock is slick with thick, fibrous saliva, a reminder of how close Cooper came to gagging.

"You want to come?" His voice is a bit rough, and he has to clear his throat before trying again, "You can come."

"I want to, but I want more." Blaine looks unsure, his thinking a bit slow and mind still mostly dedicated to processing the pressure of Cooper's hand sliding on his cock. "I need to feel you in me. That's how I want to come."

"Baby, you can come as many times as you'd like. I'd love to taste you, drink you down, then spread you wide and make you shatter on my cock." As he's talking, Cooper brings his hand to Blaine's entrance and starts to tease it with soft brushes and insistent presses. "But if you need me in you, will my fingers do?"

"Oh god, shut up. Just get your mouth back on me." Blaine's exasperation is real, as is his embarrassed blush, but so is his fond grin as he hands Cooper the bottle of lube and settles on hand into his hair. Perhaps dirty-talk wasn't Cooper's strong suit, but deep-throating was quickly becoming Blaine's favorite thing.

A pop of the bottle, a squirt of the lube, and Cooper's mouth is back around Blaine's dick. No long an exploration, his mouth's quick movements are a driving force towards Blaine's orgasm. Just as he sinks impossibly deep, Cooper brings the slick fingers up to whorl of dark skin below Blaine's balls. His fingertips catch on the rim and press smoothly in. The inside of Blaine's body is tight and hot. Everything about the boy is remarkable and overwhelming; the sensation of his ass taking you in is no exception. Cooper rests with his lips stretched, throat full, and tongue gently caressing the belly of Blaine's cock – he needs to ground himself against the feeling of Blaine clenching on his fingers. In several strokes, Blaine starts to arch and twist, his heels digging into Cooper's sides and head pressing into the pillow. He's close. Cooper can feel it in the tension of his thighs and he can taste it in the thickening precum coating his tongue. Thrusting his fingers deep into Blaine's body, he sinks until the cockhead penetrates his throat and takes one deep swallow. The cum floods his mouth as a moan fills the room. In spurts, it coats the sides of his throat and settles in every corner of his mouth. He struggles to swallow against Blaine's cock, but finally pulls off far enough to take a deep breath and let the cum ooze down his throat.

Blaine's chest is heaving and his curls twist in sweaty tangles on his forehead. Tucking his chin into his chest, he looks down to Cooper – his eyes are coated in a flattering sheen of hazy arousal. "Let me taste?"

"You…you want to taste cum?"

"I don't know what it tastes like."

Crawling up Blaine's body, Cooper tilts his head up from his chest and seals their lips. He lets his jaw unhinge, but doesn't press forward, lets Blaine move in to deepen the kiss. As Blaine's tongue swipes across his lips and into Cooper's mouth, it takes back with it the remnants of the cum Blaine spilled down Cooper's throat.

"What do you think?"

"It could taste better."

"You haven't tasted flavored lube. Believe me, nobody's ass should taste like cherry Nyquil."

"Is that why this one says 'edible, unflavored'?" Blaine's voice is lightly teasing as he turns the bottle to face Cooper. "Because you have an oral fixation?"

"Hey!" Cooper snags the bottle out of his hands. Ever so slightly put out, he twirls it in his hands and mumbles to the label "it's organic."

With a soft laugh, Blaine nuzzles into Cooper's hair and nudges him to look up. "Get up here." Blaine pulls Cooper into him and starts pressing gentle kisses into his lips just as his hands venture down Cooper's shoulders, across his chest, past his navel, and around his hips. When they make contact with the hot, eager flesh of Cooper's cock, it gives a jerk of recognition. "Should I find out if you taste better?"

Cooper groans into Blaine's neck. "Don't tempt me. Sweetheart, if you keep going, the night will end up with me passed out on top of you much sooner that we'd both like." Reluctantly, Cooper pulls away and presses a quick kiss into Blaine's forehead. He grabs the bottle of (organic) lube and recoats his fingers in a thick layer. "I love you."

An urge, a craving teases up Cooper's spine while he claims Blaine's mouth in a sloppy, thorough kiss. He wants to taste Blaine, bring him impossibly close to the edge on the tip of his tongue. And somehow do this without spooking Blaine. Rimming is not for everyone, and it certainly lies beyond Blaine's experience, but just the thought of burrowing his nose into Blaine's furrow and pressing desperate kisses into his hole is enough to leak a dollop of precum out of Cooper's slit.

"You trust me?" He looks up to read Blaine's eyes.

"You're silly." They are soft and full of love.

"Then just relax and stop me if you need a break."

Cooper sits back between Blaine's knees. Hooking his elbows behind Blaine's kneecaps, he slowly leans forward, bending Blaine and exposing his hole. In this position, they are warped in one another, tangled in each other's limbs. Blaine's breath catches at the unexpected exposure, the combination of cool air and Cooper's gaze against his hole enough to temporarily overwhelm his senses. But he does not stop Cooper from bending lower until his hot breath mists on the skin of Blaine's crack. Blaine's hand finds Cooper where it wraps around Blaine's thigh. He slots his fingers between Cooper's and holds on against this wave of new sensation.

With a deep inhale and a teasing lick against the inside of Blaine's right cheek, Cooper turns his attention to the clenching ring of muscle he is desperate to taste. His cock leaks precum and pulses with aching arousal as he starts pressing soft-lipped kisses on the rim. Flattening his tongue against the pucker, he slowly licks from crack to ball-sack, enjoying the changing textures of the skin. One every pass of his tongue against the rim, Blaine moans and arches slightly into the movement. When he wiggles just the tip into the hole, Blaine's individual moans dissolve into a puddle of sound. Pressing in deeper, farther, Cooper tastes the depths of his brother's body. He tightens his tongue and swipes it across the walls of Blaine's entrance, licking him loose and open. The hole is tight, the body pure, and just his tongue can't prep Blaine for penetration. Cooper takes as much time as he can, given the urgency of his arousal, tasting Blaine raw before bringing a well-lubed finger to this rim. With two last lavish licks to the relaxing muscle, he rests the tip of his finger at the hole and presses in.

"Oh, nnnghgghh…Cooper!" Blaine's moans catch in his throat and coil in the air. With no hesitation, Blaine rocks back onto Cooper's finger, letting one foot drop from Cooper's shoulder and fall flat on the bed for leverage. He presses back, seeking more depth, until the finger bottoms out. "More! Just, please, give me more!"

A second finger – Blaine is still tight but no longer clenching. The hole is just loose and relaxed enough for penetration, no longer gripping an intrusion like a vise. Cooper tries to slide in a third finger, but Blaine stops him. "If we go on, I'll cum." His pupils are dilated to the point where Cooper can only see a sliver of an amber frame, his curls completely wild and heavy with sweat. He'd been so focused on Blaine's hole, he had neglected the cock that lay twitching and leaking on his stomach. Pulling his fingers out, he presses a quick kiss into Blaine's cockhead and reaches for a condom.

Blaine's hand catches his wrist. There is an unfamiliar hesitancy and worry in his eyes. He shakes his head. "Can we not…use that?"

"The condom?"

Blaine blushes but nods. "I don't want it. I want you."

The instinct to give in, respond to Blaine's plea and give him exactly and everything he wants, clashes with years of safe-sex education. Some part of him jumps at the chance for a "teaching moment," at the ready with statistics about STIs and hygiene. But that would be entirely unfair – they either do this as equals, or not at all. He lets the condom fall from his hands, "Next time, we use a condom just so you know how it feels."

Next time. The words echo in Blaine's ears. Only when joy and light sweep into some clenched part of him does Blaine realize how much he needed to hear them. They had exposed themselves entirely, but the topic of what comes after had guardedly been left untouched. A piece of his heart has stayed shut tight and braced for heartbreak until the words next time had soothed it's fears. Blaine races to his knees and tugs Cooper's head closer.

"I love you. I love you." And presses desperate, grateful kisses into his mouth.

Cooper lips quiver in a cheerful laugh against Blaine's kisses. He cups Blaine's head and guides them to lie across the bed. Nudging Blaine's legs to fall out wider and hitching one thigh to wrap around his hip, Cooper glances back at Blaine's face. There's mirth, and joy, and freedom breezing between them like fresh air.

With a smile to mirror the bliss on Blaine's face, Cooper reaches between them and places the head of his cock against Blaine's rim. He pushes in, intently focused on Blaine's reactions. Now that he knows how beautiful Blaine looks in the grips of arousal, he wants to absorb every moment of ecstasy etched into his brother's face. That soft skin glows with a sheen of light sweat, his jaw dropped open and shivering in swollen moans, those lips bitten-red and kiss-swollen.

When Cooper bottoms out, pressed to the balls into his brother's heat, Blaine lets out a stunning moan and lets his arms collapse on Cooper's back, one resting against the curve of his ribs and the other cradling the back of his head. They start to move ever-so-slowly. Cooper pulls out until the head of his cock catches on Blaine's rim, then painstakingly skins back down. He feels every ridge and every contraction of Blaine's ass, squeezing down on his cock and igniting his senses. There is no hurry or end-goal; every second and sensation is its own height of ecstasy. Their breaths grow shallow and more urgent as heat floods their heads and melts their muscles. Blaine tucks his head into Cooper's neck against the building pressure, pushing vibrating moans into his skin. Resting his face against Blaine's curls, Cooper senses something missing – he needs to see Blaine's face, wants to see it give into rapture. He gather's Blaine's body into his arms, winds his legs with Blaine's and pushes them to roll over.

As his head hits the pillow, Cooper feels Blaine shifting and trying to find balance on the unfamiliar planes of Cooper's body. Blaine pushes himself up to his arms and brushes the stray curls that fell into his eyes. They look a bit questioningly at Cooper.

"I wanted to see you."

Now, Blaine has the control, and he does not quite know what to do with it. Pushing himself farther up to sit on Cooper's hips, he changes angles and presses Cooper's cock deeper. The sensation is so sharp, he jerks up and off the cock with wide-eyed surprise.

"That! That was…"

"Probably your prostate. Was it too much?" But Blaine is still too shaken by the sensation to answer. He gives a shake of the head, but it looks like he is just trying to clear it. Reaching back for Cooper's cock, he takes one fortifying breath and, with rattled exhale, sits back down on the head. This time, he is leaning forward enough to pass by his prostate and take the head deep into his ass. The stretch and friction, the feeling of completion and fullness, make him daring. In small increments, he tilts his hips until he leans back enough to let the cockhead graze that place within that makes him tremble and shiver in painful pleasure. It is too much, far too much, and he wants more.

Gathering speed and strength, Blaine drops his hips onto Cooper's cock, taking him through the tight channel of his ass until his buttocks bounce against Cooper's hipbones. The slap of every bounce matches a rattling moan from Cooper and a whispered whimper from Blaine. Tucking his legs under himself, Blaine leans back far enough to see Cooper's cock as it impales him, sees the thicket of coarse hair that leads to a turgid length of hot flesh piercing through him. He's captivated by the sight – is looks so filthy, but feels so good. In a trance, he brings his right hand to his hole, tracing the rim that is stretches wide under the pressure of Cooper's cock. His fingers dip lower and catch Cooper's balls. He's never held another man's balls before – the feeling of their shape under soft skin as they slide in their shell under his hands is somehow endearing. But the broken moan and the powerful surge of Cooper's hips, thrusting his cock to the hilt into Blaine's ass – that is intoxicating. Blaine squeezes on Cooper's balls again, feels them draw tighter in his grip, as Cooper twitches and twists, trying to keep his hips steady.

Blaine weight falls over Cooper's body, collapsing on his chest and bringing Blaine's mouth to Cooper's ears. "Do not hold back."

With a broken moan, Cooper's control shatters. He brings his arms around Blaine's back and holds him tight as his feet brace against the bed for leverage. Without warning or pause, he sets a brutal rhythm, pumping his hips with powerful thrusts that rock through Blaine's entire body. He feels Blaine's cock, hard and leaking precum against his stomach, feels Blaine's hot breath and strangled moans against his neck, feels the tightening of his hole as Cooper's cock pounds him. Their muscles move in synch with single purpose as both spiral towards release.

"Come with me. Oh, Blaine, come with me." He mutters over the heavy slaps on his balls on Blaine's cheeks.

The coil of pressure mounts behind their eyes, pressing on their every nerve ending, until it spans. Blaine's face scrunches, his mouth falls open as his eyes span shut. His back stains against the iron-hold of Cooper's arms and every muscle in his body vibrates. When his cock jerks, pulsing with hot cum that spurts between their chests, he burrows his face into Cooper's neck and relaxes into the spasms of his body. His hole rhythmically clenches, so tight, so used, and brings Cooper to orgasm. Braced on his heels, Cooper thrusts into his hole and arches as cum shoots far up Blaine's ass, deep into his body.

Blinking his eyes open, Cooper takes stock of his body's sensations. Everything feels loose and melted, as if he were a puddle on the bed. He tries to move his arm, but only his finger twitches. The spasms of Blaine's ass against his cock shoot sparks of over-sensitivity and compel his muscles to move. Tightening his hold around Blaine in a fierce hug, he shifts under him and lets his cock come loose. It falls with a wet slap against Blaine's thigh. Brings a hand to Blaine's wet curls, he whispers, "Love you."

He hears something like a murmured "luv you" by his ear, Blaine's voice muffled by Cooper's hair and pillow.

Gently rolling Blaine over, he leans against his elbow to take in how beautiful Blaine looks debauched and satiated. The temptation to kiss him is irresistible. As their mouths slowly meld, Cooper brings one hand between Blaine's legs. His cum is seeping from Blaine's hole, still slightly warm and slippery from his body heat. Running his fingertips along the dearly familiar path from Blaine's crack up to his balls, Cooper coats them with his cum and sinks them into Blaine's body.

"Too much!" Blaine breaks the kiss and twists away from the sensation.

"Sorry," pressing apologetic kisses into Blaine's nose, Cooper removes his wet fingers. "The thought of you, full of me…needed to feel it."

Blaine traces the outline of Cooper's face, fingertips ghosting along his jawline, across his brow, thumbing his lips. Their eyes are drooping and they need to sleep. Reaching across his body and under the bed, Blaine comes up with Cooper's t-shirt. He wipes the sweat off Cooper's face and then wraps it around his hands to clean away the traces of cum he carried from Blaine's ass. Ditching the shirt back on the floor, he turns towards the wall and tugs Cooper to him. Nearly asleep, Cooper presses in close, wrapping Blaine in his heat and tucking Blaine's smaller body against his own.

For several minutes, Blaine can't sleep. His body is energized and his mind awake. But for the first time in months, as his eyes trace the uneven surface of the bedroom wall, his mind is calm and his heart beats steady.


New York summers can strangle a person's soul. Blaine's shirt clings to his body and he itches to get it off. Keys rattle in his hand as he brings it to wipe the sweat off his brow. Hitching his right hip, he sets the brown bag full of groceries against his hipbone and unlocks the door.

"Did you buy the milk!"

He toes off his shoes and uses his one free hand to unstick his t-shirt from his chest. "Yes! And the flour! And the eggs! Though what I really wanted was ice and water."

"Yeah, well, you can't make cupcakes out of those." Cooper pops his head around the corner and Blaine can see smudges of flour on his shirt. White streaks decorate his hair, where he clearly sank his hands in exasperation.

"It's 105 . Can we spend the day anywhere but the kitchen? Let's go to the park. Or the shower." Setting the bag on their tiny kitchen counter, Blaine twists the soaking t-shirt over his head and lets it fall to the ground. Cooper's cool hands settle on his waist as he bends over to press chaste kisses into Blaine's nipples.

"Tempting, but we have to be at Molly's by 7:00 and we promised birthday cupcakes." Cooper turns back and heads into the kitchen, a nook of space dedicated to a fridge and a small gas stove, which is already set to 375 . At first, Blaine thought that it would be too small. When Blaine graduated from NYU and they decided to continue living in the city, Cooper suggested buying a place of their own. Shopping took months, but when they stepped into this apartment, Cooper fell in love. It was a brownstone on the Upper West Side, charming and cozy from its hardwood floors to its high beam ceilings. Blaine's main concern was the kitchen, a sliver of floor-space that was clearly designed to accommodate one anorexic model. As soon as he voiced his concern, Cooper leaned over and whispered into his ear "Just imagine me pounding your ass over that counter. Forget the floor-space, think of the leverage you can get out of those drawers." They made their first deposit before rushing home.

In New York, they were known as Cooper and Blaine. No one asked questions, and they did not have answers. There were no labels, no definitions. Cooper had never introduced Blaine as his boyfriend, and Blaine had never said that they were dating. The only certainty between them was an undying, burning love.

"Have you called mom?"

"I am pretty sure that it's your turn to call the folks."

At home, back in Ohio, things were different. They did not like going back. There, they were brothers, here they were themselves. On a particularly painful visit, James Anderson sat down his son and told Cooper that it was time to settle down and find a wife. That being a bachelor in New York was well and dandy, but he was a role-model of his younger brother. Their parents knew that they shared a loft, an idea they sold on the excuse of expensive rent and little money; their father was concerned, "What do you think Blaine learns when he sees all of your girlfriends ?"

Cooper exploded. The insinuation that he wasn't taking care of Blaine shook so much anger loose in his chest that he vibrated with the tension.

"Who are you to tell us how to live? We have a life in New York, a happy life! Blaine is happy there and so am I! We may not live like you want, with wives and families and children, but we live as we want. And don't feed the same bullshit to Blaine. I don't know what the hell it is that we don't give you, how the fuck we failed you, but I am just glad we have each other. Let us live how we want; we don't ask anything of you, and you don't demand anything of us."

The outburst shocked the Andersons and left a tear on Blaine's cheek. He followed Cooper up the stairs into his old bedroom and promised to find the first plane back to the city.

And so they lived in their city. New York is a place of fantasy and magic – it let them live by their own rules, take care of one another, and love each other as deeply and dearly as they knew how. And there were secrets, lies, and the occasional flash of guilt, but none of that measured against the integrity of their commitment to each other's daily joy.

If we were anybody else, we would have long ago been married. The thought is bittersweet in Cooper's mind. While Blaine changes out of his sweaty pants and tugs an apron over his head, Cooper fingers the twin rings jiggling in his pockets. He might not be able to give Blaine everything, but he will give him all he can.

After all, they were already Mssrs. Blaine and Cooper Anderson.