AN: As promised, here is Chapter Six, thank you for sticking with me, and remember… reviews are love… and so are cookies…
Chapter Six
The sky was clear and blue, the sun wonderfully warm against his bare skin. Safe in the knowledge that his pale complexion was protected by a liberal head-to-toe coating of SPF 100, Kurt rolled over onto his back and folded his arms behind his head, sighing with contentment. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more carefree and happy.
He'd just begun to drift into a light doze when he heard his name being called from the shoreline. Opening his eyes, he propped himself up on his elbows and focused his gaze on the toned, dark-haired figure emerging from the sparkling blue water. He watched, transfixed, admiring the perfect, masculine physique with its lean, contoured muscles and smooth, tanned skin that glistened so appealingly in the golden sunlight.
A sliver of blue fabric clung low to the man's hips, leaving little to the imagination and affording only the most minimal amount of modesty. Not that the man had a modest bone in his body, regardless of the fact that they were on their own stretch of secluded beach and completely alone. Kurt's slightly more discrete red swimming trunks tightened against the sudden strain.
Smiling widely and exuding confidence, the man strode out of the water and across the sand until he was standing at the foot of their beach towels and looming over Kurt. Giving Kurt an appraising up and down stare of his own, the glint of hunger in the man's gold flecked eyes suggested that he was pleased with what he found laid out before him.
"Enjoying the view?" he asked in a teasing drawl. Distracted by the droplets of water trailing from the man's well-defined chest and down his sculptured abdomen, Kurt swallowed convulsively. "Yeah..."
The man laughed and threw himself down on top of Kurt, bringing their mouths together in a filthy kiss. Insistent hardness pressed against Kurt's own. "Ugh," he protested when they finally pulled apart, both of them a little out of breath. "You're all wet. And you taste salty."
The man laughed again, his expressive amber eyes alight with mischief. He ran a hand through his wet curls, pushing them back and away from his eyes. That same hand moved to cradle Kurt's face and lightly caressed his cheek, then slid downwards, tracing a teasing path down Kurt's chest and abdomen, finally sliding eager fingers beneath the waistband of his trunks. A shiver of anticipation raced along Kurt's spine. With a devilish grin, the man yanked off Kurt's trunks in a swift, well-practised movement, tossing them away before doing the same with his own.
Kurt moaned as his mouth was captured again, the press of the other man's crotch against his own so much better without restrictive fabric between their bodies. He managed to roll them over so that he was on top, and then he pulled back, grinning down at the other man. "If you get sand in my ass, I'm not having sex with you for the rest of the trip."
"You'd never last." The man's handsome, smiling face was undeniably smug. "You're worse than I am. Besides, we both know you can't get enough of me." Kurt only just managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Still, in all fairness he couldn't argue with that and it seemed like a pointless waste of effort to try. Instead, he pressed himself down against that wet, firm body and gave a not-so-subtle thrust of his hips. The man moaned in obvious approval, his arms wrapping around Kurt as they kissed a gasp of pleasure, Kurt murmured the man's name. "Blaine..."
Kurt woke with a jolt and jumped up from his chair, the book he'd been reading falling to the carpeted floor with a soft thud. Disoriented, he looked around the dimly-lit room, finally focusing on where Blaine was curled up on the opposite side of the bed and still sleeping fell back into the chair and retrieved his book, unnerved by the vivid dream. His crotch was tight and his skin felt hot, as if he really had been lounging in the sun in some far-off tropical paradise. He wondered where that little fantasy had come from. He hated beaches with all the dirty sand that invariably got everywhere you didn't want it be, and he'd always been somewhat uncomfortable in close proximity to large expanses of water. Puzzling though it was, the setting seemed rather less significant than the person he'd been sharing it with. Blaine. He ran an unsteady hand over his face and reached to the bedside table for a bottle of water. Fumbling with the top, he gulped half of it down, then forced himself to take several slow, deep breaths. A glance at Blaine's bedside clock reassured him that he'd only drifted off for fifteen minutes or so. He'd need to wake Blaine again soon and give him another dose of medication and painkillers.
It had been a long thirty-six hours as he'd sat vigil at Blaine's bedside, only taking short breaks when necessary to attend to his own needs. He knew he was being somewhat paranoid and over-protective, but Blaine's temperature had remained worryingly high and he'd had anxious thoughts of rushing Blaine to the ER if it spiked any higher. Blaine had slept restlessly for most of the time, and even when conscious he hadn't been particularly lucid. Despite his histrionics the previous morning, he'd been pliant enough under Kurt's ministrations, clearly too unwell to resist or protest beyond the occasional feeble groan. More surprising was that each time he woke up, he seemed relieved to find that Kurt was still there. "Kuh..urrt..." Kurt looked up from where he'd been staring at the bottle clutched in his hands. Somewhere along the line during his state of delirium, Blaine had started using Kurt's given name instead of his surname. And each time Kurt heard his name spoken in Blaine's rich voice, his stomach did a strange little lurch and a ridiculous surge of warmth bloomed in his chest.
Focusing on Blaine's face, he found a pair of bleary, red-tinged eyes peering at him. Blaine made a croaking sound, then swallowed and cringed. "You're still here," he muttered hoarsely. "Of course, Sir." Kurt put the bottle of water aside and shifted closer. He placed his hand against Blaine's forehead and was relieved to find that it didn't feel quite so hot. Reaching for the thermometer just to be sure, he gave Blaine a gentle smile. "How are you feeling?" Blaine groaned. "Like hell. Everything hurts. My throat and head are killing me." Kurt nodded in sympathy. He took Blaine's temperature, confirming that it had dropped almost two degrees, then filled a glass with water and handed it to Blaine along with his medication. "Your temperature's gone down. That's a good sign." Blaine pulled himself upright with obvious effort, then took the tablets and drained the glass, grimacing each time he swallowed. He passed the glass back to Kurt and scrubbed an unsteady hand over his unshaven face. "I must look even worse than I feel."
"Well, I have to admit you've looked better." Kurt smiled again and was pleased when Blaine managed a weak smile of his own.
"What time is it?" Blaine asked, still looking at him.
"Almost nine-thirty," Kurt replied. "Saturday night," he added when Blaine frowned and seemed to be struggling to put the time into context. "Do you feel like something to eat? How about some soup and toast?" He gave a slight chuckle as he recalled the numerous bags he'd helped Quinn carry in and unpack the day before. "I think Quinn bought enough food to last you for at least a month." Blaine managed a weak chuckle of his own, then coughed several times. He cleared his throat and nodded.
"Yeah. I'm kind of hungry. Some soup sounds good." He shuffled over to the other side of the bed and started trying to untangle himself. "I need a shower," he muttered. Kurt was out of his chair and at Blaine's side in an instant, wrapping an arm around the other man's waist as he climbed unsteadily to his feet and nearly toppled over. "Easy, Sir. Take your time." He had to admit that Blaine did kind of stink a bit, so a shower seemed like a good idea. He managed to get Blaine hauled into the en-suite bathroom and sitting on the toilet seat to regain his strength, then turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature so it was warm but not too hot. He turned to look at Blaine. "Will you be able to manage all right?" Blaine rose cautiously to his feet and started to peel off his t-shirt. "I think so…" Catching a glimpse of Blaine's bare torso, Kurt stepped away from the shower and averted his eyes.
They were both adult men of course, but it felt wrong to be ogling his employer when his feelings for the man were so complicated and not merely of a professional, platonic nature. Blaine was sick and it would be unforgivable to take advantage of the situation to satisfy his own lustful curiosity, even if Blaine was none the wiser. At the same time, he couldn't deny being intrigued about whether the reality measured up to his fantasies, especially with the latest one still so fresh in his mind. He cleared his throat and moved to the doorway. "I'll get you some clean clothes."
"Thanks," he heard Blaine mutter in reply. Kurt stood there awkwardly, his gaze fixed on the tiled flooring until he was satisfied that Blaine was situated in the shower. Then he made a hasty retreat to Blaine's dressing room and retrieved clean underwear, socks, tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt. Summoning his resolve, he took the bundle of clothing back into the bathroom, placed it on the side of the basin counter closest to the shower and quickly retreated again, keeping his back to the shower and its occupant the entire time. Hoping that Blaine could get himself washed, dried and dressed without assistance, he closed the bathroom door behind him.
After retrieving a set of clean sheets from the linen cupboard in the hallway, he stripped and remade the bed. Then, taking a deep breath, he left the bedroom and went downstairs. He returned a short while later with a tray containing chicken soup and toast for two, relieved to find that Blaine was dressed and back in bed, albeit looking exhausted from the effort. Blaine's hair was damp and a riot of curls shooting out in all directions, and he was still unshaven, but at least he was clean.
"Does that feel a bit better?"Blaine gave him a weary nod. "Yeah. Thank you."Kurt got Blaine settled with the tray, silently bemoaning the lack of coffee to accompany their late dinner. He would have dearly loved a cup, but he'd decided the coffee machine would be off limits until Blaine could share it with him again. It seemed only fair. In the meantime, he'd been trying valiantly to make do with strong black tea. He did a quick tidy up in the bathroom, dealing with Blaine's dirty clothes and wet towels. Then he returned to Blaine's bedside and started on his own meal.
They ate in companionable silence, and Blaine managed to eat most of his food, although he started to lag as he reached the last couple of mouthfuls of his soup. Kurt took the tray from Blaine's lap when he was done, putting it aside on the floor with his own dishes. He checked Blaine's temperature again just to be safe. "Anything else I can get you?" Blaine shook his head, sliding back down under the bed covers and pulling them up around his shoulders. He was shivering again. "Hummel..." he began, then paused with a slight frown. "Kurt." He paused again. "Thank you. For doing all of this. For staying and taking care of me. I want you to know I appreciate it." The words obviously didn't come easily to Blaine, but he sounded sincere.
Being sick had stripped the man of his usual defences, taking away the mask of the aloof, hard-nosed businessman and revealing vulnerability and uncertainty beneath. Kurt suspected that few people got to see this side of Blaine. He felt strangely privileged to be one of them. Taking his seat again, he gave Blaine a self-deprecating smile. "Think nothing of it, Sir. It's my pleasure. All part of the friendly service."
Blaine breathed out a sigh, then coughed and grimaced as he rubbed at his chest as he spoke in a quiet, almost unsure voice. "Call me Blaine. Please." He swallowed and coughed again. "You wouldn't deny the wish of a dying man, would you?"
Kurt rolled his eyes. "You're not dying, Sir."
"Please?" Blaine repeated, staring at him with intent, pleading gold eyes.
Kurt wondered when pleasing Blaine had become more important than his own tenuous sense of self-preservation. He'd known the man for just three weeks and had already grown dangerously fond of him. In fact, he was starting to wonder if he was already half in love with Blaine, despite his best efforts to safeguard his foolish heart.
He'd been in love before – several times in fact – and it seemed to be his curse that he fell hard and too fast. With Blaine, the nebulous feelings were different in a way he couldn't begin to fathom or explain. The only thing he knew was that they were frighteningly intense. He sighed, shaking his head in defeat. "All right. Just until you're better." After a pause, he added, "Blaine."
"There. Was that really so difficult?" Blaine looked momentarily triumphant. Then, still watching him, he frowned. "You look tired. You should get some rest."
Kurt wanted to protest, but he'd been up for the best part of two days straight and the idea of sliding into the comfortable bed in Blaine's guest room was undeniably appealing. Besides, Blaine looked like he was about to drop off again and the worst of his fever had passed. There was no reason to linger at Blaine's bedside, except for the fact that he wanted to. Hiding his reluctance, he climbed to his feet and picked up the tray with their dinner dishes. "I'll check on you later. Just call out if you need anything." He only just managed not to add 'Sir' at the end of the sentence.
Blaine murmured his agreement and curled up on his side. "Night, Kurt."
Kurt smiled softly down at him, watching as his eyes drifted closed. "Goodnight, Blaine."