Chapter 7

Kurt couldn't help but go back to the photo album. He had put it away when Wes had suggested, but the next day, after that conversation with Blaine that he couldn't even believe he instigated… Kurt went back.

He thumbed through the pages he had already seen, glancing over them, but not spending too much time on any of them. He didn't know if someone would walk in on him again. Only Wes had that once, but he was nervous. He felt like he was doing something forbidden.

Kurt got to the picture of Blaine in high school. He stared at it for a bit. It was still odd to see Blaine so happy looking. It was so not Blaine like. It made him seem too normal, too innocent. Kurt couldn't wrap his head around it.

He shook his head to clear it from thoughts, and turned the page, to the new stuff, the things he hadn't seen before. The next spread of pages were more pictures of Blaine and the other boys in uniform, one of which was candid, grabbing an image of an organized horde of private school boys on stage… performing? Again, another thing he couldn't really comprehend.

Kurt flipped to the next page. Again, Blaine, but this time out of uniform and with a pretty guy with ridiculous blonde hair. Kurt wondered if the two, who were sitting across from each other at a patio table knew a picture was being taken or not, for they were not paying attention to the camera. Rather, they were looking at each other, into each other. Blaine wasn't smiling, but his face carried a soft expression.

Before he knew what he was doing, Kurt was slipping his fingers under the plastic covering of the page and pulling out the photograph for closer examination. He held it close to his face and squinted, like he was trying to discern some secret. He turned it over and, by luck, someone had labeled the back of the photograph in tight cursive, like Kurt's mom used to do before she passed. Labeling photographs was becoming an old-fashioned practice, much like photo albums themselves, now that everything could be saved digitally. 'Blaine + Jeremiah' it read, followed by the year and a quickly scribbled heart. It made Kurt suck in his breath and hold it.

He put the picture back in place and flipped through the few remaining pictures to see if there were any more with the blonde boy… Jeremiah, as it were. There wasn't.

It just left Kurt wondering.

Blaine was trailing a series of bites, licks, and kisses up and down Kurt's neck. They were both clothed, and Blaine was rutting his hips against Kurt's under him. Kurt was hard from the stimulation. It was three in the afternoon and it all felt oddly clandestine, like they were teenagers who were rushing for some sexual release before their parents got home. But Kurt did what Blaine directed in bed, and if this clothed session was what he wanted, Kurt wasn't going to question. It was better than penetrative sex, at least. More distant, especially with little skin against skin.

Blaine sucked and nipped at a place that was the conjunction between Kurt's neck and shoulder. Kurt sucked in a sharp breath despite himself. It was a good spot. Blaine picked up on Kurt's reaction and started paying particular attention to that area. Kurt knew he would be dealing with a hickey when this was all over.

"You like my neck," Kurt chocked out, perhaps a defense mechanism to defuse all the positive sensations his body was experiencing with someone he didn't particularly care to have them with.

Blaine pulled back from Kurt's neck, licked a swipe against the part he had been paying so much attention to, and said, all husky, "You have a nice neck." He then placed his elbows on either side of Kurt's torso and paid attention to moving his hips against Kurt's. Both of their breathing grew into pants equally. No one could say that Blaine wasn't attentive to his sexual partner, even if the entire situation around it was messed up.

"I've never had my neck complimented before," Kurt managed to gasp out.

"Neck's can be sensual," Blaine grunted out, not stilling his steady movements.

Kurt wanted to laugh at Blaine's use of the word 'sensual.' To Kurt it sounded more intimate, personal, and loving than its synonymous counterpart, sexual. He didn't have the breath to laugh, though.

Blaine sped up his thrusting, and Kurt could feel he was close, so close. Blaine moved one, twice, and Kurt was done. Blaine was still moving, but only for a half minute more, and then he was, as always, was collapsing on Kurt.

After both of them had caught their breaths, Blaine moved so that he was only partially on the boy underneath him, an arm overtop his waist, a leg linked over one of his.

Kurt wriggled uncomfortably. "I can't believe I just came in my pants. This is gross."

Kurt thinks he sees Blaine raise an eyebrow at him in his peripheral vision, but Kurt doesn't care enough to spare the energy to turn and look.

"Put them in the hamper. Mrs. Hudson will take care of it."

"Do you ever feel embarrassed making Mrs. Hudson clean you're come-covered clothes?"

Blaine scoffed, and Kurt thought there might've been a little bit of a laugh in there.

"No," Blaine said. "Because I pay her, rather well in fact."

"It's not charming to flaunt your money, Blaine," Kurt said, a bit lazily. He wasn't sure where the reprimand came from, but he hated that it almost sounded like flirting. It wasn't his intent. It was just ever since that dinner that he spoke up, he wanted to make sure Blaine knew he wasn't afraid of him. Or that Kurt wasn't going to be silent in all of this. He had been, the first… two weeks had it been already, and he wouldn't be. He was still a person with a soul and voice and feelings and opinions and wants. He gave up a lot of his life when he made this arrangement with Blaine, but he didn't have to lose himself as well.

Blaine pushed up on his hands, and looked down at Kurt. "It got me you."

Kurt blinked, shaken. "Not exactly."

Blaine lowered himself and pressed a surprisingly soft kiss beneath Kurt's ear, and then whispered. "Semantics."

"Who's Jeremiah?" Kurt said, fast and desperate, because he didn't like Blaine winning. He already had all the control; Kurt needed something.

Blaine shot up off of Kurt and eyed him critically. "Who told you about Jeremiah?"

"No one," Kurt said, and maybe this was a really bad idea. "I saw a picture, in a book, in the library."

Blaine's face was hard, and it was actually intimidating. Kurt didn't feel so comfortable now, under him on the bed. "Who Jeremiah is, is none of your business nor your concern." Blaine pushed off the bed and headed towards the bathroom door.

"You can go now," Blaine said dismissively, over his shoulder. Kurt stared after him with wide eyes.

Kurt went back to his room and took a long shower filled with lots of thoughts. Once again dressed, he was curious, so he went to the library and looked for the photo album. It was gone.

"Hey, boss." Santana sat down across from Blaine, crossing her legs at the knee. "I've been fielding calls all week, ever since you're little meeting, about Smyth."

Blaine tugged the photo album down on his lap. He had the desk between himself and Santana, so she couldn't see what he had. He had left his office door open in thoughtlessness, after he had retrieved the album from the library. The unofficial rule of the house was if Blaine left his door open, people could come right in. If the door was closed, they had to knock and wait to be granted permission. Sometimes they wouldn't get it.

"And?" Blaine said.

"Definitely a rise in activity, but amongst the lowest of the thugs. Hustling, protection circuits, gambling rings…"

"If the lowest of the thugs are active, it means the higher ups are active, even if they aren't showing themselves."

"Exactly," Santana said, tapping her fingers idly on the tablet she had on her lap.

"And it means," Blaine said, a bit weary, "He's trying to exert control from the ground up. Get more of the city relying on him, and not on me."

Santana nodded curtly. As snarky and smart mouthed as she could be, she was serious when she needed to be. "And subtly, like he thinks we won't notice."

Blaine rubbed at his jaw. "Okay, okay. Tell the capos that they should send reinforcements to the places Smyth is trying to push his business."

Santana nodded, and started typing out a note on her tablet.

"But," Blaine said, "Don't have them threaten the proprietors of the businesses. That might push them towards Smyth at the moment. Have them sit in, and scare out Smyth's people."

"Okay," Santana. "One more question."

"Yes?" Blaine asked.

"What were you looking at when I came in?"

"That's not really—" Blaine started, but Santana was already stalking around the desk and peering down into his lap.

"Oh, Blaine," she said. He snapped the album shut.

"It's nothing."

"Look," Santana said, voice oddly tender. She sat on the edge of his desk. He glared at her. She continued. "I wasn't here when Jeremiah was around, but Wes told me –"

"Of course he did. You two gossip like school girls when you're not at each other's throats."

Santana gave a little 'well, yeah' eye roll.

"You and I can be the tough asses all we want. Be great at it too. But I know what I would be like without Brittany."

"That's all well and good, Santana, but it's really not you're business, and it's in the past."

There must've been something in her tone, for she just pursed her lips and then said, "All right, then," and dropped it.

It was awkward, then, for both of them. Neither often dug into emotions, at least not for others to see, and here Santana had tried, and maybe Blaine had snarled after a wound had been prodded.

"I, ah, I'll send your message," Santana said, and she started toward the doorway.

"Santana," Blaine called after her.

"Yes, boss?"

"No one has been bothering Brittany since you mentioned it… a while back?"

"No. No one's bothering her."

"Good."

Santana left, and she must've read him well, because she shut of the office door as she did. The photo album was still closed, between his hands, in his lap. It wasn't Jeremiah, exactly. That was so long ago, and Blaine had been very young. He's sure, looking back, that it hadn't been such a good match and it really wouldn't have lasted, one way or the other.

Blaine was a very different person now. But there was something about what he had shared with his first boyfriend, his first love, which he missed. He wouldn't it admit aloud. Not to Wes, who he is sure is getting an earful from Santana at this very moment. Not to anyone. Not most days. Probably not to himself either.

He was a busy man, after all, had a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. He didn't have time for distractions anymore. Then Wes said he needed one, if not with those words, a distraction. To keep him from cracking under it all. So he got Kurt, who was pretty enough to be appealing and desperate enough to be complacent. But he was a lot more than that, Blaine was learning, and it just wasn't the time for that.

Blaine yanked open the bottom left drawer of his desk, tossed the photo album in, and slammed it shut.


Aki- I really like writing this story. My last Klaine story was very mushy-romance-fluff with some angst. This was is heavier and is more well-rounded, I think, with more characters involved and such. Yup. So here is my chapter. Hope you liked. Review?