A/n: I changed the rating because I couldn't help but get a little dirty.

Kurt answered the phone on the first ring, "Agent Coulson, I've been expecting your call. Although I did expect you to call earlier, it's rude to keep a boy waiting."

The man on the other end of line was taken aback by Kurt's words, floundering for a moment longer than he could get away with, "who is this?"

"No time for pleasantries?" Kurt countered, clinking his tongue in disapproval, "I'm hurt, I would have thought the modifications I made to the schematic for your hand would have earned me your favour but clearly I was mistaken."

"You did that?" Kurt could hear the man's smile through the phone, "I'm impressed, you must be very gifted."

"I know how to see potential for improvement, I delegated the task," Kurt shrugged, buffing his nails on his sleeve nonchalantly, "which is why I want to tell you about the fact that every time your tracker starts to triangulate my signal, my encryption software changes my location. We reverse engineered your software."

"You reverse engineered our software? That would mean you're in our systems," Agent Coulson scoffed. Kurt listened as the man held the line, probably to consult with his subordinates, "that can't be true."

"Which is harder for you to believe?" Kurt smiled, he wished the man could see the malevolence on his face but was glad he couldn't because it would ruin the trust Kurt wanted to build between them, "that we got into the systems once and stole everything, or that we keep predicting your moves and have the same ideas down to the finest details?"

"I'm not sure which is scarier," the man chuckled.

"We don't mean you any harm," Kurt smiled, "we want to help you. Our gift should be an indication of that."

"Who do you work for?" Agent Coulson demanded.

"I don't work for anyone," Kurt smirked, even if just for his own satisfaction, "we're not affiliated with any person, organisation or government."

"Yet," Agent Coulson chuckled, "you want to help us?"

"Let's just say I wouldn't mind affiliating with you," Kurt purred into the receiver.

"I don't know whether to be flattered or afraid?" Agent Coulson's fear was palpable, "You tell me which I should be."

"There's nothing wrong with being both," Kurt's voice was a light lilt, "we both know you're already the latter."

"We know something about you too, we know you're based in Sitka; that's where the package came from," Agent Coulson countered, "Finding you up there won't be hard, I give it a week."

"Babes," Kurt supressed a giggle, "it's the twenty first century, I've seen your travel logs and I know how much ground you can cover in a short amount of time; what makes you think we aren't operating out of Russia, China, Canada, Greenland, anywhere in Europe, and that's only at the same latitude."

"Touché," Agent Coulson relented.

"And I would believe the week bit but I'm sure looking for little old me who isn't doing any harm isn't top of your priority list," Kurt shook his head, "I'm expecting you in January."

"You underestimate our resources," Agent Coulson was trying to intimidate him but Kurt would not be swayed, he had the power in this situation, "ever hear of multitasking?"

"You're doing it right now. How much longer does she need?" Kurt smiled, "How much longer till Daisy has found a way to circumnavigate our encryption software?"

"I beg your pardon," Agent Coulson's voice remained level.

"Daisy Johnson," Kurt crooned, "she's the one with the tremulous personality, likes to travel as much as you do- I hear she loved the South Pacific too."

There was a lingering silence, when Agent Coulson broke it the anger in his voice was evident yet subtle, "Who are you?" the man growled into the line, "What do you want?"

"I want to be of assistance," Kurt smiled, "it's what we all want."

"I don't suppose that this assistance comes without a catch," the man scoffed and Kurt grinned.

"There's no such thing as free lunch," Kurt smirked, he leaned forward in his seat, "I want immunity."

"From what?"

"Everything," Kurt pursed his lips, "everything that has been and everything that will ever be."

"And who is it you want this immunity for?" Agent Coulson's enjoyment of this moment was sickening.

"Tell me if you can do it and I'll tell you who it's for," Kurt's voice wafted into the receiver melodically, "I get what I want and you get what you want; tit for tat."

"The name isn't what I want," Agent Coulson countered.

"Good, there isn't one," Kurt smiled, "but when you call me next to tell me that you have what I want ready, I will tell you everything there is to know about our little organisation and we can come to terms."

The man relented, "Till then."

"Kurt flashed himself a self-congratulatory smile, "Till then."

~0~

Kurt stopped reading his English set work when he heard soft tapping on the French doors that connected his room to their back porch, he wasn't expecting a guest but supposed that the fact that they knew which was his bedroom made them more friend than foe. He slipped into his loafers and moved toward the door, the moment before leaving he grabbed a coat and threw it over his shoulders. Kurt had to take a deep breath as he was greeted by a dandelion held in a fist as large as his head, he smiled politely.

"Good evening," Kurt took the flower, unsure how to show his gratitude, "thank you for the flower."

"Hi," the Hulk replied, he flashed a smile of large flat teeth.

Kurt smiled to himself when he saw that the Hulk was wearing the unicorn pyjama bottoms with the adjusted elastic band that he had fitted for this exact reason, "Do you like the pyjamas? They're a little tight but that's how we get them to fit all the time."

"Hulk likes the horses."

Kurt's smile grew, "do you like ice-cream?" the large green man shrugged, "I think you will." Kurt moved back into the house and the Hulk moved to follow, Kurt shook his head, "you can wait out here and I'll return with treats."

Kurt went back into the house, asking himself what it was he was doing as he tiptoed through the house to the kitchen. Kurt considered dishing the ice-cream into bowls but thought better of it when he considered the Hulk's size and potential appetite. Kurt doubted his actions as he completed them, wondering what he would achieve by them and if he need bother himself with those thoughts. The idea of ice-cream in this cold weather wasn't his best but it had been the first to come to him, Kurt could later parallel it to his fondness of the beach in cold gloomy weather; dismissing it as a quirk rather than nervousness.

The Hulk sat waiting for him on the porch steps and Kurt slipped into the spot beside him, "I make it myself so be warned, it will ruin all other ice-cream for you." the Hulk chuckled and Kurt knew it would wake his father but in that moment he could not bring himself to care, "Strawberry and champagne cheesecake ice-cream."

The Hulk took the serving spoon Kurt had retrieved for him and scooped a large quantity of ice-cream, he groaned in pleasure and then howled in pain. Kurt giggled, "why do you laugh? it hurts!"

"It's not supposed to hurt," Kurt ate a spoonful of ice-cream as proof, "it's because you're eating too much too quickly."

Kurt watched the Hulk take a smaller quantity of ice-cream and cautiously eat it, he smiled, "tastes good."

"I'll be sure to pass on your regards on to the chef," Kurt smirked, "I hear he loves compliments."

"You made a joke," the Hulk sniggered.

"I'm capable of that," Kurt smirked, he looked up to the sky, "you can see so many stars from this part of the world, the city lights aren't as bright out here and so the ones that are more dim aren't drowned out."

"Twinkly lights," the Hulk shrugged, "not impressive."

"They do more than twinkle," Kurt smiled, "they're a window to another world, they are surrounded by other worlds, they create art, they tell stories, they are instruments of knowledge."

The Hulks eyes grew wide, "Art?"

Kurt pointed to the constellation he always started with, "there's Orion's belt, and his matching purse." Kurt smiled broadly, "accessorizing was important even then, especially for battle."

"What about the stories?" Hulk prompted him.

"Well each constellation has a story," Kurt explained.

"Tell Hulk one," he demanded.

"Manners," Kurt instinctively replied.

"Please."

"That's my sign," Kurt pointed into the sky, "Gemini, the twins Castor and Pollux." The Hulk nodded his acknowledgement, "they were twins born of different fathers to the same mother; Castor was the son of the King of Sparta, Pollux was the divine son of Zeus. They ascended to the stars when Castor died, Pollux asked Zeus to let his brother share in his immortality."

The Hulk traced the figures in the sky for a moment, "are they dancing?"

"They're in a tango of sorts," Kurt agreed, "it works out well for me; my high Asgardian birth and my common Kree birth battle for dominance. As if trying to decide my mortality, or lack thereof." Kurt smiled as he held the Hulk's hand as they traced out the stars, "the stories in the stars mirror our own in some way."

"What is Hulk's star story?" the Hulk asked in a small voice.

"Sagittarius," Kurt pointed the creature out, he was quiet for a moment as he tried to find the right wording, "Chiron, the archer and teacher of Achilles. There were two parts to him too, joined into one; a marriage of wisdom and strength." Kurt chose to omit that he believed that Bruce and the Hulk could achieve the same, "Chiron was part horse."

"Hulk likes horses," he pointed to his pyjama bottoms.

Kurt smiled, "There's a scientific theory that in every class there's a student who is obsessed with horses, I can see you being that person for this group."

The Hulk chuckled, "What else do stars do?"

Kurt pointed to a small, barely visible star, "That's the farthest star you can see with the naked eye, two clicks north of it is where the Large Magellanic Cloud orbits." Kurt held the hulks hand steady till he could see the star in question, "in that galaxy is the Pama star system, which is orbited by Hala; where my ancestors are from."

"You're from the stars," Hulk's eyes grew wide.

Kurt shrugged, "in some way, yes." The Hulk gaped at him and Kurt smiled, "something else the stars do is that they move, you watch one and it will go in a full circle and come back to where it is. Mathematicians in the Middle-East used the stars to figure out how long a year was. They were slightly off in their observation and that's why a circle is three hundred and sixty degrees, instead of three hundred and sixty-four and a quarter degrees."

"You're smart."

"I just know a lot of things," Kurt countered.

~0~

"Montre-fucking-al," Kurt clapped his hands, "I've always wanted to come to French Canada, and what better place to be than the birth place of Celine Dion?" Kurt twirled on the spot, "I'll be waiting for you, here inside my heart! I'm the one who wants to love you mo-ohho-re."

"Kurt, you're drawing a lot of attention to yourself with that slaying Celine Dion impression," Charlie warned, "maybe tone it down."

"I can't think of anything less conspicuous than someone in the Montreal Airport singing Celine Dion," Ms Daniels countered, "why else would anyone come to this place?"

"Because French Canada is the best Canada in the land," Charlie rolled his eyes, "Duh!"

"I had a whole Celine Dion medley prepared for your enjoyment," Kurt scolded as they moved quickly through the airport toward the car rental desk, "you ruined it!"

"I'm sorry," Charlie shrunk under his scrutiny, "I didn't know it meant that much to you."

"Kurt is in love with Celine Dion," Ms Daniels explained.

"That's enough about Celine Dion," Charlie snapped. Kurt messed up his signature at the demanding tone but slid the form across the counter regardless, ignoring the blunder, "She's not even here, she's in Vegas."

"I know," Kurt sighed dejectedly, swinging the rental keys around, "I checked."

"You rented a car in your name?" Charlie asked as they stopped in front of the Escalade pickup, "a flashy car at that, not exactly flying under the radar."

"It's not as conspicuous as you would think," Kurt shrugged, "I used to have one in black but it was a SUV and had spinning rims."

"But you're leaving one hell of a paper trail," Charlie countered, he leaned forward between the two front seats as he spoke so as to be better heard, "aren't you afraid of the big players following the paper trail back to you?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "I'm just itching to be caught."

"You drive like shit," Ms Daniels clutched her seatbelt dramatically, "How did you get a license?"

"You need a license to drive?" Kurt asked as he re-applied lip balm with one hand and steered with the other.

"To think I thought they were going to find you because of a paper trail," Charlie scoffed, "they're going to get you because you are a terrible driver"

"I'm not terrible," Kurt smiled as he checked his mirrors, "I'm just out of practice, I haven't driven since I moved to Alaska." He rolled his eyes and sat in proper formations, "Are you happy? Hands at nine and three."

"Isn't it ten and two?" Ms Daniels countered.

"I wouldn't have said nine and three if it was something else," Kurt snapped back, "it's obviously changed since the dinosaurs roamed the earth and you were still taking drivers ed."

"I'm only twenty-four," Ms Daniels countered.

"Let's go work our easiest case," Kurt rolled his eyes as he parked on the grass, "The irony is that the person who wants to be found and helped is left to us yet the people who want to be free are captured and corralled like animals."

"That's deep," Charlie shuddered.

"I can't believe you found a cry for help on Craigslist," Ms Daniels scoffed, "I can't believe people are still on Craigslist."

"I can't believe Charlie is on Craigslist," Kurt scoffed.

Charlie raised his hands in surrender, "My spider found it, I'm not a frequenter of that website."

Kurt rang the doorbell, "Ms Daniels, do your magic."

"Magic," she nodded to herself, "I have that."

A homely woman opened the door, "good morning, how can I help you?"

"Good morning madam," she spoke in a soothing tone, "I'm Li Daniels, an associate of the ATCU. I'm looking for Abigail Tanenbaum, is she available?"

"I'm Katherine, Abigail's mother. Please do come in," the woman held the door open for them, "may I ask what this visit from an American parastatal is regarding? My Abby is upstairs with the flu."

"Abigail reached out about abilities she recently developed," Ms Daniels explained, "we would like to offer her the help she is looking for."

"I don't think I understand," she nodded to herself as if having conversation with herself, "she came home from her date a few days ago and hasn't been feeling well since, I thought she'd had a fight with her boyfriend."

"She probably recently gained her abilities and is still afraid," Ms Daniels explained, "but she did reach out to the internet for help. Could you please go get her?"

"She refuses to come out," the woman seemed on the edge of sobbing, "there's nothing harder than seeing that there's something wrong with your baby and not being able to do anything to help."

"You'll be helping her by letting us get her help," Kurt explained.

The woman nodded and stood up, she moved to the foot of the wooden staircase, "Abby, there are people here who say they found your request for assistance on the internet. Please come down." She flashed them an unsure smile, "I'll get some tea while we wait."

"Practice really does make perfect," Charlie smiled, "A few more of these and we'll be better at it than SHIELD."

"Because we're not dehumanising?" Kurt quirked a brow.

"Because we're efficient," Charlie smiled.

Abigail appeared at the top of the stairs covered from head to toe, only her face exposed, "Are you here to help me?"

"We're here to try," Ms Daniels said with a reassuring smile on her face, "Please come down and speak with us."

"I can't," she shook her head, "I don't want to hurt you."

"May I come closer?" Kurt smiled, "It's okay, you can't hurt me."

"My boyfriend held my hand, he got shingles and gastro," she explained, "I don't mean to hurt people but I do, the waitress who tried to help us got measles. I bumped into my friend at the mall, we hugged and she got chicken pox!"

"When did this start?" Kurt asked as he ascended the stairs, he sat on the top stair and patted the spot beside him, "You won't hurt me, I've never even had the flu."

She took the seat and Kurt placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "it started that day after lunch, I had a seizure; I've been epileptic my whole life so that wasn't too odd." She started shaking and violently sobbing, "I haven't been able to touch anyone without them getting sick ever since."

"What did you have for lunch?" Kurt tried not to make the question sound strange.

"I had a tuna sandwich," she shrugged, shaking her head in confusion, "I eat tuna all the time."

"When you woke up from your seizure, were there black rocks around you?"

"Yes," she floundered, "how did you know?"

"You recently underwent a process known as Terragenesis," Kurt explained, "Your DNA had a dormant sequence of Kree DNA that was activated when you came into contact with the contagion which was probably in the tuna you ate."

"I'm an alien?" she spluttered.

"No, you're an inhuman," he smiled at her, "a long time ago, humans were infused with alien DNA and those genes have spread throughout the population just like any other gene. Some people have it and others don't, when those who do come into contact with the contagion they receive inhuman abilities."

"Are you inhuman?" she asked as Kurt removed her glove and took her hand.

"No, I belong to the Alien race whose DNA you have."

She gasped, "I've never met an alien before."

"To your knowledge," Kurt added with a cheeky grin.

Abigail giggled, "I guess so." She wrapped her free arm around herself, "What now?"

"We're going to forward you to a facility where they will help you manage your abilities," Kurt smiled, "when you have better control, you can come back home and resume your life."

"I'd like to have a normal life again," she smiled shyly, "as normal as life can be when you can give someone pink eye just by touching them."

~0~

Kurt smiled at his father over the dinner table; they were finding themselves in this position too often of late, whether it was a good thing or a bad thing was yet to be determined. Kurt appreciated that the recent shift in their lives had caused him and his father to start speaking more honestly with each other, even if it wasn't civil.

"Thank you for coming to this meeting." He pushed the plate of store bought cookies in the man's direction, "Shall I be mum?"

"Raisin Oatmeal," the man took a large bite, "this can't be good, but they aren't homemade so it can't be that bad."

"I've been busy," Kurt shrugged, "we've been a lot busier than I thought we'd be, Charlie's spider finds a case every other day."

"Feels that way doesn't it," Burt nodded, "considering the amount of time we've been spending together of late, I was surprised to receive your summons."

"Trust me," Kurt smiled, "I summoned you for a reason."

"I don't know where you got the idea that it was okay to summon me but stop," he shook his head, "you can just ask me to speak to you." His father smiled none the less, he gestured to the teapot sitting between them, "you know how I like it.

"I thought this conversation should be a little more formal given how important the ramifications of it will be," Kurt took a deep breath, speaking as he poured their tea, "I'm done with high school."

"You haven't graduated, so you're actually not done," His father's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, or where one would have been had the man had one to speak of, "You want to drop out of school?"

"Strictly speaking," Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat and sat up straighter, he squared his shoulders and looked his father in the eye, "no."

"You haven't even heard back from colleges yet," his father shook his head, "how do you expect me to allow you to just throw all of that away without knowing what they would say?"

"I'm not throwing anything away," Kurt said in a soothing voice, he sipped his tea and waited for his father to regain his composure, "and I am certainly not asking to be allowed anything."

"I beg your pardon," his father growled.

Kurt smiled, projecting serenity to his father, "Do you not wish to hear what my plan is? Or are you having too much fun overreacting to everything I say?"

"Overreacting is a lot of fun," His father let out a tired breath, "What is your plan?"

"I've already taken my SATs and am awaiting results," Kurt explained, trying his hardest not to sound condescending, "I already paid for them and you know I would have spent that money on shoes if I didn't intend to use the test results in the foreseeable future." His father chuckled and Kurt was glad he'd included that bit to remind his father that he was still the same boy, "I also have every intention of graduating from high school and going to college but right now I have no idea what either of those things mean and all high school is doing is clouding my judgement."

A smile spread across his father's weathered face, "What do intend on doing for the next nine months? Meditating?"

"We both know I don't have the temperament for meditation," Kurt scoffed, "I'm putting my feelers out, looking for something to do."

"How are you going to graduate if you're 'done with high school'?" his father's tone was deliberately condescending, "you don't have enough credits to graduate yet."

"I'm going to transition into home schooling and through independent study I will finish my courses for this year," Kurt reached out toward his father, "this is something I've been considering for a while, I'm not just up-ending my whole life on a whim."

"You really think you can do this?"

"If I could teach myself how to use a half-loop top stitching on low-viscosity rayon," Kurt smiled, "then I can theoretically learn to do anything?"

"You sent out your résumé and everything?" his father's smile fell, "but I never got a copy."

"I can't put any work I do for you onto my résumé," Kurt scoffed.

"Whatever will I do without you?" his father teased.

"You can travel more," Kurt suggested, "go see Carole, visit your old stomping grounds without me tying you down."

"You're asking me to be young, wild and free?" his father scoffed, "after a hundred years of being boring?"

"I was simply suggesting you be the last two," Kurt teased.

~0~

"I hope you haven't eaten because I am making Tournedos Rossini," Bruce announced when Kurt walked into the simplistically furnished studio above the garage, "and it's almost ready."

Kurt was floored, "I thought this was a spur of the moment invitation, where and when did you source Foie gras and black truffle?"

"What?" Bruce stared at him blankly, "I thought that meant steak with pepper sauce."

"That's Steak au poivre," Kurt giggled.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fluent in French," Kurt knew his tone was biting and condescending but he couldn't help himself, "I brought wine, do you have an opener?" the man shook his head as he attended to the meat that he was panfrying, Kurt snapped the top off the wine bottle.

"That is a cool party trick," Bruce grinned, "Like the sabre thing people do with champagne."

"Tell me I'm not going to have to drink this out of a mug," Kurt asked as he opened the kitchen cabinets.

"There's a set of wine glasses in the cupboard next to the microwave," he gestured with his elbow, "Aren't you a little young to be drinking wine?"

"It's too early in the evening for you to be asking me if I'm too young for things," Kurt chuckled, "I like my steak blue, it should basically still be walking."

Bruce smiled at him, "did you bring any ice-cream?"

"I beg your pardon?" Kurt took a large gulp of wine.

"You make ice-cream," Bruce spoke slowly, "did you bring any?"

"No," Kurt mirrored the man's speaking pattern, "I haven't exactly been made of free time, I'm out of ice-cream." Kurt downed the remainder of his wine and charged his glass, "I also don't like mixing wine and ice-cream."

"We won't have desert," Bruce shrugged.

Kurt moved in closer and blew into the man's ear, "we'll have each other's company."

"Could you… what I mean is-" Bruce squirmed, "would you mind… please pass me some plates." Kurt followed instructions and watched the man squirm under his gaze, "You can go sit down, I'll be right out."

"I'm fine where I am," Kurt smirked, "I like watching you work."

"You're really flustering me and this steak is already rare," Bruce blushed as he tried to dish up in next to no time, Kurt enjoyed watching him squirm, "please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" Kurt bared his teeth.

"Like you're going to eat me," Bruce shrunk away, doing the last of the plating up.

Kurt stepped forward and took the plates from the man, "bring the wine." Kurt placed one plate at the head of the table and another next to it, Bruce took his seat and Kurt leaned down and kissed him.

Their lips were joined and in that moment a surge exchanged between the two of them; Kurt held on to the man's cheeks, rough stubble on his palms. They broke apart and breathed each other in, "What was that for?"

"It was long overdue," Kurt smiled, "it finally felt like the right time."

Kurt took his seat, he made quick work of beginning his meal. Bruce stared at him expectantly as he chewed a mouthful of broccoli and steak, "What do you think? Be brutally honest."

"Have you ever heard of salt?" Kurt smiled shyly.

Bruce gaped at him, "I didn't mean be that honest."

"You asked me to be brutal," Kurt countered, he fed Bruce a fork full of the food, "what are your thoughts?"

"I think it's a beautiful evening to part-take in a liquid diet," Bruce shuddered, taking their plates away, "I guess I'm not multitalented like you."

"It's a curse in itself," Kurt shrugged.

"There go our evening plans," Bruce took his seat again, "What now?"

"You know," Kurt leaned forward, raising his wine glass for a toast, "we still have each other's company."

"A toast?" Bruce furrowed his brow, "to what?"

"You recently had a birthday," Kurt smirked, "look me in the eye or it's seven years of bad sex."

"It would be an improvement from my current streak," Bruce chuckled.

"Well," Kurt pursed his lips, "you recently had a birthday." He lazily traced his index finger over the frown lines on the man's handsome face, "we could have a good time."

"We don't have to take our clothes off to have a good time," Bruce whispered, as if he were trying to keep a secret from someone right beside him, reserving his words for Kurt alone, "we can dance and party, all night."

"I didn't bring any cherry wine," Kurt countered, his lips moving over the man's earlobe as he purred the words.

"Kurt," Bruce chuckled, "we both know how this ends."

"Did you ever for a moment think that maybe I could hurt you?" Kurt bit lightly on the man's neck, "is that why you're afraid?"

"I doubt it."

"You should count on it," Kurt grinned. He got to his feet and towered over the seated man, "I know you want me but you're hesitating, why?"

"You must be crazy to ask me that," Bruce chuckled. Kurt opened his bag and clipped an elastic band around Bruce's bicep, "what's this?"

"Heart rate monitor," Kurt smirked, "but we'll still take things slow."

"We will?"

"To begin with," Kurt pulled the man to his feet, kissed him deeply and laid him back on the dinner table.

Kurt popped the man's button open and pulled down his fly, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of the man's boxers and slowly started to pull them down.

Bruce reached out and stopped him when his pubes began to peak out over the waistband, "I'm out of practice."

"And I've never done this before," Kurt countered, "We'll wade into the waters together."

Kurt smirked, unhooking his fingers and grabbing the hem of Bruce's shirt, he made quick work of shredding the man's t-shirt. Kurt raked his fingers through the man's chest hair; the man wasn't in peak human condition, a little soft at the waist but muscular none the less. Kurt worked his fingers over the man's torso and back to the waist band, pulling both his boxers and his slacks down to his knees; both of Kurt's eyes were focused on the one eye staring back at him from the head, it was a soft rosewood colour. Kurt put his hand around the man's dick and gave it a quick jerk, watching the foreskin sliding back and forth over the head.

Kurt brought the engorged member to his lips, he gave the head a soft kiss- Bruce's body vibrated under his power and Kurt couldn't help smiling at the power he had at that moment. He opened his mouth and allowed the penis entry into his mouth, the taste was savoury and reminded Kurt of licking your lips after some rigorous exercise; the musk in the taste matched that in the smell but with a sweet and salty additive. Kurt alternated between gently using his teeth and his lips to leverage himself down the large member till it filled his mouth, with his fist still in place Kurt increased his suction and slowly began to bob up and down with his hand keeping time.

Bruce moaned under Kurt's performance, wiggling under the punishment of Kurt's slow pleasuring. Kurt got his pleasure from feeling the man squirm at his will, unable to fight what Kurt was doing to him; he was in control of everything Bruce was feeling in that moment, that gave Kurt the most pleasure. Kurt took his time, working slowly and drawing out the ecstasy that was flying between them as Bruce moaned and called his name; calling for Kurt to do more, not to stop, to suck harder or faster, and to keep giving him more of the same. Kurt indulged the man, making so he thought he was in control, pretending to follow instruction and going the complete opposite way as soon as an affirmative gasp escaped Bruce's lips.

Kurt felt the man's muscles shorten before he did, and by the time he was announcing his impending ejaculation, Kurt was ready to receive it. Semen in Kurt's mouth had the elastic texture of mucus but had a taste Kurt could only parallel to oysters, he slowly pulled off the man's semi erect penis and sucked on it like a straw as he did.

Bruce stared at him breathlessly, "What are they teaching in schools these days?"

Kurt kissed the man, supressing a giggle, "Sex education is a lot more comprehensive than it used to be."

"If I ever have the misfortune of having kids, I'm home schooling them," the man shook his head as Kurt cuddle up to his side, Bruce's naked body contrasting with Kurt's dressed one. The man teased at the buttons on Kurt's oxford, undoing them slowly and keeping the air around them serene.

Kurt grinned, "under normal circumstances, you'd have to take me out three times before we got that far."

"But?"

"Given the circumstances," Kurt kissed him, "I don't want to say goodbye before we've had the opportunity to say hello properly."

"You're afraid I'll disappear," Bruce sighed dejectedly.

Kurt kissed him again, "there are a number of things that could drive us apart, the world is changing and with that change that number grows."

"You're afraid aliens are going to ruin our sex life?" Bruce chuckled, "Or is it the inhumans?"

"Or the government," Kurt added, "SHIELD, or the ATCU."

~0~

Kurt stood on the porch as his father's car pulled into the driveway, the smile on his face was faker than his Christmas cheer; it wasn't that he didn't want to get into the Yuletide spirit but he was feeling uneasy of late. The car came to a stop and out jumped Finn and Carole who were clearly very deeply into the spirit of Christmas, judging from their sweaters Kurt was going to need to make the egg nog a little bit stronger for them all to survive the festive season.

"Kurt!" Finn shouted excitedly, running up to Kurt and grabbing him, "What's up buddy?"

"I'm well," Kurt patted the taller boy's back, "thank you, how are you?"

"I'm great," Finn beamed at him, "I was in the Lima Christmas special, imagine that! Me on TV!"

"With your talent," Kurt scoffed, "I can't."

"Kurt," his father smiled, speaking from between gritted teeth, "Why don't you show Finn where he'll be sleeping?"

"Oh yes," Kurt shrugged impassively, "I'm sure he's forgotten since summer."

"Be nice about it," his father growled.

"No promises," Kurt shrugged, "Follow me." Kurt walked silently into the foyer and helped Finn out of his overcoat, he led the boy down the hallway and stopped in front of the guest bedroom, "this is it, the guest bathroom is across the hall."

"Kurt," there was a confused look on the boy's face, "what's wrong? Why are you so cold toward me?"

"What were you expecting?" Kurt quirked a curious brow.

The tall boy shrugged, "I don't know, not this."

"You were expecting the boy from sophomore year," Kurt scoffed, "that I would fall to the ground before in worship like id so many times before." He shook his head, "You remember the attention but do you remember how you reacted when you realised the root of that attention? Because I remember you calling all my stuff 'faggy'."

"Kurt," the boy stared at him incredulously, "we got past that."

"I also remember you telling me I couldn't sing a song with Sam just a few weeks before I left Lima," Kurt tilted his head and tapped his foot expectantly, "Do you remember that? Or would you like a more recent example?" Kurt flipped his hair and crossed his arms, "I heard about what you did to Santana, Brittany told me."

"You weren't there," Finn shook his head, "You don't understand."

"And I don't want to understand," Kurt snapped, "Don't try to make me. And don't try to make me through song."

"Why are you like this?"

Kurt smirked, "the weather isn't the only thing that's cold up here."

Hope you liked it.