This is a Klainofsky story (Kurt/Blaine/Karofsky), but it starts as a Blainofsky story. The first four chapters are exclusively Blainofsky and then a Klaine storyline begins to develop. This IS a love story, though at times it may not appear to be. Every chapter contains some form of sexual encounter. This story is NOT for readers with weak stomachs or impressionable minds.

Featured in this story: BDSM, sub/Dom relationships, spanking, snuggling, stalking, dirty talk, sexual violence, crazy/stalker/slut/sub!Blaine, Dom!Dave, (eventually) teddy-bear!Dave.

CHAPTER FIVE – SECRET KEEPING

"Come on, it's a party. It'll be fun," Kurt insisted, grabbing his coat from his locker. "Don't you want to watch a bunch of straight people making drunken idiots of themselves?"

Blaine sighed, as he checked his phone for the eighth time that hour, wondering if Dave was ever going to text him or if he was going to have to request a response to his earlier suggestion of a hook-up. When he saw there was nothing new – which wasn't surprising as he hadn't heard a buzz – he shoved his phone back in his pocket. "That's all straight people ever do," Blaine said, looking up at Kurt and smirking.

Kurt grinned as he finished slipping into his coat, and took a step closer to Blaine. One of Kurt's pretty little porcelain hands pressed flat to Blaine's chest, in yet another not-so-subtle hint. "Come on. For me. Pleeeeease."

Suddenly, Blaine's phone went off and he almost jumped with excitement, retrieving it as quickly as possible and checking the text.

He opened the text to read Dave's words: "Sorry, I can't do it tonight. I've got a tutor thing... maybe tomorrow."

Blaine's eyebrows knit together.

"Who is it?" Kurt asked, trying to lean over and peek at the screen.

"No one," Blaine said, trying to act casual and walking ahead, forcing Kurt to pause and close his locker before hurrying to catch up. In those few seconds between leaving Kurt and having Kurt right back at his heels, Blaine typed, "No fair, making me wait," and pressed send.

"It doesn't look like no one," Kurt said, breathless.

"It was Mom, telling me what's for dinner," Blaine said with a shrug, looking to the side and pretending he saw something really interesting.

"So, you're coming tonight," Kurt said.

Blaine sighed. "Fine." He didn't have anywhere better to be. "Just... don't let me do anything stupid when I'm drunk. I'll probably do something stupid." Blaine glanced at Kurt with a frown, feeling like he'd made a huge mistake in agreeing. What if I say something? What if I lose control and confess? He'd have to be careful about how much he drank.

Kurt just smiled. "I'm looking forward to it," he said. "Can't wait to see the unlaced Blaine Anderson."

Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Maybe if I get you drunk enough I can have my way with you." Kurt grinned and then added, "kidding."

Blaine scrunched his nose and gave Kurt a "what the fuck" look. Jesus. No pressure or anything, Blaine thought.

Kurt's smile broke into a frown and a hard pink spilled across his paper-white cheeks. "Sorry. It was a joke. Don't take it so seriously. Drama queen."

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. Right. Okay. Sorry."

They walked in silence for a while, and Blaine adjusted the strap on his shoulder once or twice, feeling uncomfortable, and miserable that he had to feel so uncomfortable with his best friend. The situation with Kurt was quickly deteriorating. Kurt's interest was painfully obvious, and there was simply no way to make it go away without hurting Kurt.

Blaine couldn't confess to his – what is thisexactly? a relationship? – his thing with Dave, because he'd promised not to, and because it would probably devastate Kurt to learn the identity of his rival. He couldn't tell Kurt he didn't have sexual interest in him because that wasn't true, and he didn't want to close that door forever if in a month the – what exactly? – thing with Dave was over. God, that was a painful thought.

But Kurt was pushing too hard, and Blaine was getting to the point of doing something drastic to make it stop, he just didn't know what yet.

It would've been better if Kurt wasn't so... delicate about it - dropping all these hints, hints which were getting more aggressive by the day, though they never ventured into physical waters. It would've been better if Kurt just came out and said it. In fact, that was why it would never work. Blaine didn't want to be hinted at. He didn't want to be flirted with. He wanted to be taken. Seduced.

With Kurt it would always be awkward and overly-sensitive.

"How about this," Kurt said suddenly, breaking Blaine out of his reverie, "what if I promise to be a perfect gentleman?"

"Huh?" Blaine looked sideways at Kurt as they passed through the doors and out onto the sidewalk.

"I promise that I will be a perfect gentleman tonight," Kurt said.

"When are you not?" Blaine asked, smirking a little. Aside from being a total and unconscionable coquette.

"Ha. Ha." Kurt looked away, smiling to himself and then looked back at Blaine. "No matter what happens - even if you get drunk off your ass and come on to me - I will keep my hands to myself.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I'm not worried about that," he said. "You don't have to promise that. That's pretty much a given with you."

Kurt sighed. "So you're coming?"

"Yes. Fine."

#

They stood in darkness, and all Blaine could see was Kurt's profile, silhouetted by the moon flooding in through the open window. Blaine didn't remember how they got where they were. In fact he wasn't even sure on the where in that sentence. It was dark and it smelled like beauty products and Kurt's hair was falling in his eyes and he was beautiful – so beautiful. Like impossibly beautiful. And Blaine wondered how he'd failed to recognize it before.

"Come on," Kurt said, hands on Blaine's shoulders, guiding him backward through the dark.

Blaine tried to remember what was going on. There was a party – a crazy drunken party – at Rachel Berry's. He'd had too much. Fuck! Did I say something about Dave? And now they were somewhere dark, but in between there was something else. Did Kurt drive us somewhere? Yeah, that's what happened. Blaine remembered sitting in the passenger side of Kurt's car, staring out the window and humming along with the song on the radio. What song was it, again? Survive?

Blaine stumbled a bit to the side, wrapped in drunken thoughts, and Kurt caught him. Blaine had never noticed how strong Kurt was. "You caught me!" Blaine said, noticing how slurred his speech was and laughing at himself. He tried to take a few steps in one direction.

"No. This way," Kurt said, pushing Blaine gently the other way. Then, for the first time, Blaine noticed the enormous bed that Kurt was leading him toward. His chest tightened in excitement as he stared at it for a moment – at the down turned sheets – and then he felt a light shove and he was falling.

He landed with a soft bounce, face down on the mattress and his pulse picked up the pace – matching his excitement. Oh, my God, he thought. Kurt's going to have his way with me. Oh, my God. "Where are we," Blaine breathed, entering the tortured, lustful, and ruled role he so loved to play.

"My bedroom," Kurt whispered, rolling Blaine over onto his back. "Shh. Dad and Carol are asleep down the hall."

Blaine giggled, breaking character as Kurt lifted his legs and put them up on the bed, under the covers. "Naughty," Blaine murmured.

Kurt laughed. "Nope. Not naughty. Perfect gentleman, remember?"

Blaine groaned as he realized that Kurt was putting him to bed – not taking him to bed. "Oh, my God, Kurt. Loosen up. Why do you have such a stick up your ass all the time?"

Kurt huffed in the dark. Blaine couldn't see his face, but he imagined it looking insulted - insulted in that way that only that Kurt could be insulted. Like there were emotions that existed only for him. Kurt was so tightly wound. So dramatic. "So hot," Blaine muttered.

"What was that?" Kurt asked, walking away from the bed.

Blaine wanted to sit up and see where Kurt was going, but his head was throbbing and he couldn't move. "What was what?" Blaine asked, voice sloppy.

For a moment, the room was silent and Kurt was far away – in actuality and in Blaine's mind. Blaine thought of Dave, thought of what Dave would do in this situation – what Dave would do with his drunken body – violate it, tease it, tend to it. He thought of Dave's cock deep inside his ass and slid one drunk-fool hand down to his crotch to rub at his half-hard cock.

"You said, 'so hot,'" Kurt answered at last, moving back toward the bed.

Blaine groaned, coming back from his sexy dream world and trying to remember what he'd been saying. The task proved to be consuming enough to keep him from remembering to bite his tongue. "I was probably imagining you if you managed to let go sometime," Blaine mumbled. "Like that's ever going to happen." Blaine rolled onto his side, toward the edge of the bed and pressed his face into the pillow and wishing Kurt would just disappear so he could go back to fantasizing about Dave's big, hard, throbbing cock. Dave's big, muscular arms. Dave's tight, athlete's butt. Oh, the things I could do to that ass... Blaine thought and then he groaned loudly, and didn't care if Kurt attributed it to the alcohol or not.

"Lovely," Kurt said with a sigh, walking around to the other side of the bed and getting in.

For a moment, everything was quiet. Blaine lay there, feeling like a bag full of bricks – heavy and solid and built out of blocks – earlier thoughts of warmth and contact dissolved in the alcohol mist.

He started to slip toward sleep but felt movement and his mind grew alert. Kurt was tucking him in. His heart thrilled at even so minor a thing – body desperate, always, for affection. Briefly, Blaine wondered if Kurt's hands would slip under the covers and run over his back, his limbs. He imagined it and felt himself getting hard again. He could get away with it too, Blaine thought. I probably wouldn't remember in the morning anyway.

"Kurt," Blaine murmured.

"Yes, dear?" Kurt asked, finishing his task and pulling away to settle back into his side of the bed.

Blaine sighed. "Nothing." He rolled onto his stomach and snuggled deeper into the pillows. "Nothing, nothing, nothing."

#

Blaine walked out to his car the next day at noon, head still pounding. He glanced back at Kurt's house, reeling, trying to remember if anything lascivious had happened the night before. Kurt's face hadn't spoken any kind of hint. He seemed irritable but he hadn't said anything about Blaine's behavior the night before. He'd just bitched about his Dad and how he knew he was going to get a talking to for having Blaine stay over.

It was the way Kurt had said, "it's not like anything happened," that left Blaine in the lurch. He'd said it, but somehow Blaine wasn't sure he believed it.

But Kurt then was so sexless. Blaine remembered being tucked in and then nothing else. No. Maybe there was something else. Had the word 'naughty' come out of his mouth at some point? His mouth tasted like he'd said, 'naughty,' and maybe 'perfect.'

Blaine climbed into the driver's seat and he opened the center console, rummaging around for his cellphone. He'd hidden it the night before - from himself so he wouldn't drunk dial Dave, and from Kurt so Kurt couldn't check his history. Three new texts. Blaine groaned.

They were all from Dave.

The first was from 9 PM: "Tudoring's done. You want me to come over?" Blaine's heart plummeted as he read it, thinking about what could have happened the night before if he'd turned Kurt down.

The second was from 11 PM: "Drove by your house. Didn't see your car."

The third was from 11 AM – only an hour earlier: "Hang out today?"

Blaine quickly typed a response: "Yes. Definitely. Just woke up. Hung over. Want to see you ASAP." He pressed send and slid his phone into his jacket pocket. He started the car and pulled away.

The response came almost immediately - Blaine was still on Kurt's street when his phone buzzed. He pulled it back out to read, stopping at a sign.

"Hung over? Do anything bad last night?"

Blaine smiled a little, and typed, "Depends on your definition of bad." He pressed send and then had a second thought, and typed a second message, "but seriously. I need you." He pressed send again, and then stuffed the phone in his pocket and started driving in search of fast-food - he definitely needed to make a pit stop for something to soak up all the left over alcohol.

#

Every time Dave got a text from Blaine his heart skipped a beat. Blaine had even programmed Dave's phone to pop up a picture of him when he texted. Dave complained about it being risky - someone could see - but he enjoyed seeing it so much he couldn't bring himself to change the settings. And it was a particularly awesome picture, though he doubted that it was even possible to take a picture of Blaine that was less than awesome.

Dave sat in the recliner, his game of Left 4 Dead abandoned, as he stared at his phone.

"but seriously, I need you," the text read. Dave bit his lip and just stared at it for a moment before typing a response.

"Me too. Your place?"

Dave stared at his phone, waiting for the reply. Knowing Blaine, it would be in at any moment. He waited, chest constricted, and then the picture popped up again. He flicked the text open. "Thirty minutes."

Dave exhaled, and felt a grin starting to creep across his face.

They'd been seeing each other every other night for weeks – sometimes it was even more than that. It was the best adolescent phase Dave ever remembered having - better even than winning the championship game. He kept thinking that Blaine would lose interest - stop texting. It's only been a few weeks, Dave thought. Give it some more time, and I'm sure he will.

Dave got up and shoved his phone in his pocket. He hurried up the hall and took the stairs two at a time. In his room he dug around for a better t-shirt than the mustard stained one he was wearing, and paused to check his ass in the mirror. I really need to get a tighter pair of jeans, he thought. For whatever reason, Blaine seemed to like his ass. If there was anything Dave could do to keep Blaine's interest longer, he'd do it. Anything. Even if it meant wearing tight-ass jeans that he would've mocked anyone else for.

He was starting to love that moment (a moment that was awkward and uncomfortable the first few times it happened) when Blaine's sneaky-bitch hands found his ass and squeezed. He was starting to love every single way Blaine violated his comfort zone.

Suddenly, Dave's phone buzzed again, and he yanked it out of his pocket, staring at it puzzled until he saw Blaine's face again. Fuck, that's a good picture, Dave thought. Those fucking lips... Those lips that had undone him.

It wasn't a text this time. It was a call.

Dave didn't like answering the phone. He didn't like talking on the phone. Or at all really. But those fucking lips. Those fucking eyes...

He pressed the answer button and put the phone to his ear. "What's up?"

"Fuck the thirty minutes. I want you in my bed as fast as is humanly possible. Leave NOW."

"Cool," Dave said, like nothing out of the ordinary had been said on the other end, and he started pulling off his t-shirt.

"Good. See you." Blaine hung up before Dave could say goodbye, but Dave said it anyway.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and pulled his clean t-shirt on, checking to see that the shirt was tight enough to cling like Blaine liked it. Blaine was completely insatiable. Dave liked that Blaine was completely insatiable. He wasn't sure if he liked it because it meant he got to get as much fun in as possible in the potentially brief period of time they were going to be together, or if he liked it because it made him think they might have a chance at something longer, realer.

God, every time he felt his cock sink into Blaine's body, relief washed over him like he'd never thought even possible. He didn't care how they did it – didn't care if it was rough and nasty or soft and sweet. It made no difference at all what mood Blaine was in, or what happened. Every time he made love to Blaine – he'd started calling it that around the third time they did it – it was like the world shrank and everything was okay for a little while, even if it all fell apart and turned to shit an hour later.

Which it usually did. Not always, but usually.

The really funny thing was how long it took for him to recognize it – really recognize it and understand it. Dave was gay. Not confused. Not bi-curious. Gay. You'd think that fucking another guy would've tipped him off, but then, it's not like Dave ever fancied himself the brightest bulb in the box. It didn't come all at once. It came slow. It was like every time they did it, a little piece of him was chipped away until the hard shell he'd hid himself in was gone. And then it was just him – or it was almost just him. A few more days in Blaine's bed and then maybe he'd be free.

But he was closer than he'd ever been and he was starting to really understand that that was why it felt so good fucking Blaine. It wasn't even the gay thing. It wasn't that he was gay and being with a guy was natural, although that part of the whole equation was awesome all on its own. It felt like relief because he was being honest in front of someone who knew what he was. It felt like relief because when they were together he wasn't afraid of what he was.

Dave slipped into his skater-shoes and ran out the door, jumping into the driver's seat of his truck and starting it up. He drove and he was halfway to Blaine's when he got another call. He pulled the phone out and answered it without checking who it was.

With a laugh he said, "that desperate for my cock, huh?"

He was greeted with a moment of silence followed by uncontrollable laughter, and that was not Blaine's voice.

"Fuck!" Dave muttered, "Az... I thought it was... I thought you were this chick I've been seeing."

"Yeah, I caught that, dumbass," Azimio said, voice crackling on the other end of the staticy line. "Sounds like it's getting serious."

"Not really," Dave protested. "It's just sex."

Az laughed. "When do I get to meet her?"

Dave sighed, running a hand through his hair and changing lanes while he tried to think of something intelligent to say. "I dunno. She lives a ways away... and she's fucking crazy. It's not like we're a couple or something. Like I said, it's just sex."

"Okay. Okay. So you wanna hang out?" Az asked.

"I can't I'm on my way to see her," Dave explained breathless. "I... You know I would blow her off, but..." Dave searched for a reason he couldn't blow Blaine off but he was actually so completely surprised to suddenly realize he had somebody he wanted to see more than Az, that he couldn't think of anything to say. That had never happened before.

"It's cool dude," Az said, voice calm and reassuring. "You're on you're way to get your dick wet. I get it. Have fun."

"Yeah... right... Thanks, brosef. I'll call you later," Dave said, trying to sound casual - trying to sound like he hadn't just realized that he was falling in- But no. He wasn't. Of course he wasn't. It was a crush. That was all.

"Peace." Az hung up.

Dave dropped the phone into the passenger seat, and pressed the palm of one of his hands to his face, gently rubbing his eyes. "Fuck," he said aloud, all of a sudden. "Fuck. This can't be happening."

He changed lanes, getting ready to turn onto Blaine's street.

"This can't be fucking happening."

When he pulled up to Blaine's house, he parked the truck and sat in his seat for a minute - needing to clear his head - needing to think this through. What is happening to me? What's wrong with me?

A sudden knock at his window surprised him so badly that he actually jumped and threw his hands up, before seeing Blaine standing outside the car.

"Fuck! You scared me!" Dave said, loud enough for Blaine to hear it.

"Sorry," Blaine said, but he looked amused. "Come on," he said, motioning toward the house.

Every thought that previously swam in Dave's head evaporated in an instant under Blaine's gaze – his hair is really curly - and he climbed out of the car, following silently. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced around the street then let his eyes slip back to Blaine – his perfect hips in his tight fucking jeans, his perfect fingers gripping a paper coffee cup, his perfect hair some how more perfect than ever because it was a mess. Blaine opened the front door and walked in with a completely air-headed Dave in tow behind him.

"Mom? Dad?" There was no answer, so Blaine just walked up the stairs. Dave closed the door gently behind himself and followed Blaine up, eyes on Blaine's ass – completely shameless once they were behind closed doors.

Blaine opened the unlatched door to his room with one finger and walked inside setting his coffee cup on the desk and taking off his pea coat. Dave followed and closed the door and watched Blaine move without saying a word. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his letterman jacket. Blaine sighed loudly.

"You will not believe the night I had," Blaine muttered. "I'm not sure I believe it."

Blaine turned and walked back toward Dave rubbing his forehead. When they were a foot away Blaine looked up with a weak and slightly apologetic smile, then went up on his tiptoes to kiss Dave's lips.

It was one gentle kiss at first, but it turned into more very quickly. Dave slid his hands to the small of Blaine's back and held him as Blaine's tongue teased his lips open. Dave tasted the alcohol and the coffee and something spicy on his breath... and something else, something like strawberries. Then he breathed in deep through his nose, and he noticed the smell for the first time. Such a familiar smell – one that filled him with panic. Dave pulled back and looked Blaine in the face.

"What?" Blaine asked, eyes searching Dave's.

"You smell like... Kurt."

Blaine's cheeks went pink, and he looked down. "About that..."

Dave inhaled sharply. "You slept with Hummel?"

Blaine nodded. "Does that make you jealous?" He asked.

Dave breathed slow and for a moment he didn't answer, and all he thought was, it would make sense - they would make sense together. Which was what he thought every time he thought of Blaine and Kurt. And really, Dave didn't think he deserved what he was getting out of Blaine. It was bound to happen eventually.

Blaine looked up at him. Their eyes met. Dave didn't smile but he didn't frown. He did his best to look strong – unbroken, unafraid.

Blaine sighed and slid his arms around Dave's neck, pressing up against him, putting his cheek to Dave's chest. "Yes, I slept with him," he whispered. "No, we didn't have sex. We slept in the same bed. That's all. At least... I don't think we had sex. I remember feeling disappointed about the lack of sex so..." Blaine frowned and looked up.

Dave met Blaine's eyes, nodded and smiled a little. He liked Blaine's inappropriate confessions.

Blaine chewed his lower lip and then mumbled, "If you hadn't been busy last night I never would've been roped into that stupid party anyway..."

"What happened?" Dave asked, kissing Blaine's temple and squeezing him closer and rocking just a little, side to side on his feet out of a nervous habit.

"Just..." Blaine started on an explanation but Dave couldn't totally focus because suddenly Blaine started swaying with him and it felt like they were slow dancing and Dave's heart was thumping hard and heavy. "...a whole lot of me trying to avoid saying or doing something stupid while drunk. I made out with Rachel Berry, and I started hitting on Finn," Blaine confessed, laughing, one hand sliding down from Dave's neck to his own face. He rubbed his eyes. "I managed to stop myself before I ACTUALLY hit on him, but... it was pretty damn close."

Dave breathed in slow and laughed, only fuzzily aware of what Blaine was saying. He felt good and there wasn't any room left for the bad. "What'd be wrong about hitting on Finn?" Blaine and Finn sounded like an equally logical pair as Blaine and Kurt. Equally hot. Dave didn't know how to tell if a guy was gay, but he certainly knew how to hope that one was.

Blaine laughed, but his laugh sounded bitter and it made Dave worry. "Um... Kurt would kill me. Hitting on his brother." Blaine slid his hand down into Dave's. "You do remember that Kurt's my best friend, right?"

"Yeah," Dave murmured, heart racing as Blaine intertwined their fingers. The little touches were still so overwhelming. "You just... never talk about him so... I forget," he whispered, voice deep.

"That's not true, is it?" Blaine asked, looking up into Dave's eyes. "I talk about Kurt."

Dave smiled a little. "You mention him here and there. You just don't TALK about him. I dunno." Dave shrugged. "I just assumed it meant..." Dave looked away for a moment fighting back an emotional response and then looked back at Blaine, smiling again and biting it back. I can't be jealous.

"Assumed it meant what?" Blaine asked, looking up with that quiet, empty, questioning look – the look that made Dave nervous.

Dave closed his eyes for just a second, breathing, and then opened them again, forcing himself to be okay. He smiled and looked away and said, "I thought it meant something was going on with you and him. You know." He heard Blaine inhale sharply, and then waited for a bombshell.

"Something? You thought Kurt and I were what? Together? Like I would just not tell you about it?" Blaine asked, voice growing more and more indignant with each phrase. "Just fuck somebody else and not tell you?"

Dave shrugged, smile falling just a little. "It wouldn't make a difference." It's not like I own you. It's not like I don't know what it feels like to want more than one person at a time...

"Why?" Blaine pulled away. Dave looked down at him, jolted by the sudden loss of contact and saw the hurt in Blaine's face and it made him feel sick. "Why doesn't it bother you to think of me with other guys?" It was an accusation and Dave didn't know what of.

"Why are you upset?" he asked, frowning and licking his lips and stopping himself from reaching out and pulling Blaine back.

"Because I..." Blaine stopped and turned away, walking toward his desk and leaning against it a little. "Because I'd like it if you cared enough about me to care if I was cheating on you." He was angry.

Dave's heart raced. "Cheating?" Is what we have together something that a person can cheat on? Are we together?

"Yes, cheating. That's what they call it when you have sex with someone other than the person you're having sex with." Blaine turned to look Dave in the face. His lips were red. His eyes were dark. "Because unless I missed something, I was pretty sure you were the person I was having sex with."

"But... we're not... I didn't think we were exclusive," Dave struggled to speak and think.

Blaine's mouth fell open and for a moment he just stared. He picked his jaw back up and then shook his head and huffed and spat out, "So you're sleeping with someone else?"

"No. Of course not. Just..." Dave jammed his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.

"Oh, my God. You were planning to cheat on me?" Blaine stalked forward, getting up in Dave's face. "If I find out you're sleeping with somebody else, I will destroy you."

The hot spiral of confusion inside Dave hit its boiling point and words came out without thoughts to justify them. "I'm not! Who the fuck else would I be sleeping with? It's not like boys are beating down my door. You're the first guy to ever want me. Jesus Christ! I thought we weren't exclusive because I assumed someone as hot as you wouldn't want to be exclusive with ME." Dave stared at the ground, eyes stinging, nostrils flaring, body tense and big and uncomfortable.

Blaine stepped backward. "What?" His voice sounded soft and hollow.

Dave stepped backward too, heart racing, cheeks hot. He was feeling that panic sinking in again. "Should I go?" he asked. He felt like running away, embarrassed that he'd even said anything.

"No," Blaine said, stepping closer again and sliding his hands around Dave's neck. "No. You need to stay." Blaine kissed Dave's cheek and then his jaw. "Stay." Blaine slid his fingers down Dave's chest and curled them into his shirt, pulling him toward the bed.

Am I shaking? Dave felt like he was shaking.

Blaine pressed kisses all over Dave's face, kicking off his shoes as he walked backward toward the bed. Without letting his lips leave Dave's face for more than a second, Blaine got up on his knees on the bed and pulled Dave along with him until they were both kneeling on the bedspread.

He slid onto Dave's lap, legs spread around him, just the way Dave liked it, and the gesture made Dave's heart flop with excitement and ache and adoration. He put his hands inside Dave's letterman and slid it slowly off so that his hands ran flat against Dave's form - up his chest and down his arms. He took it and tossed it on the foot of the bed.

Dave felt the tickle of tears running down his cheeks and the realization that he was crying just made the crying worse. Dave's face felt like it was on fire, he was so embarrassed about everything that was happening. But Blaine was kissing the tears off his cheeks. Blaine's hands were stroking up and down his arms.

Dave pulled back just a little and reached up and rubbed the back of his hand over his face to get rid of the tears. "What is wrong with me," he muttered. I never would've cried in front of anyone a month ago, he thought.

"Nothing," Blaine said with a serious expression on his face. "Nothing is wrong with you." He leaned in and kissed Dave on his lips.

Dave opened his mouth easily, needing any affection Blaine was going to give him in that moment. His arms clamped tight around Blaine's lithe body and he whimpered softly, feeling Blaine's tongue teasing his. Dave felt Blaine's body moving up and down gently as he kissed. Blaine turned his head again and again to get a new angle - like he could make a million kisses out of one.

For the first time, Dave let his tongue slide into Blaine's mouth and Blaine moaned loudly, fingers spreading wide, hands running up Dave's back. Their tongues ran against each other, warm and wet.

Dave's heart raced. He moaned. Something important was happening - a change - and for the first time he didn't feel like he was somehow fucking it up.

Slowly, Dave broke the kiss and lowered his head, pressing his cheek to Blaine's chest. Blaine's hands fluttered up to the back of Dave's head, holding him close and it made Dave whimper. He pushed Blaine down onto his back, and lay on top of him. He curled up in a fetal position, holding Blaine like he was a stuffed animal - precious and private and childlike. He listened to Blaine's frazzled intakes of breath and held on tight. He felt Blaine's fingertips rubbing and scratching at his scalp. He loved those fingers.

For a long time they lay there, quiet. When he trusted himself to breathe again, Dave shifted a little, loosening his grip on the smaller boy, but never lifting his head from Blaine's chest. Maybe the spell was broken by the move, because after another moment passed, Blaine spoke again for the first time in what felt like forever.

"I don't talk about Kurt," Blaine said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Dave's head, "because the only thing I'd have to say about him is how hard it's getting to turn him down, and I didn't want to bother you with that."

"Huh?" Dave questioned, wordless.

"He's... he wants us to be more than friends and... I'm not saying I don't, it's just... I'm with you." Blaine nuzzled the top of Dave's head.

Dave's breath caught in his chest, and he looked up just a little. "With me?"

Blaine nodded.

Dave looked back down again, needing to conceal the expression on his face. Euphoria, bordering on insanity. He squeezed Blaine a bit.

"If... that's what you want," Blaine murmured.

"Ye-" Dave started and then heard how high pitched his voice sounded. He cleared his throat. "Yes."

Blaine laughed softly and squeezed Dave tight.

Dave ran so many questions around in his head. He wanted to know every last detail of what 'with you' meant, but he decided it was best to let it lay since he couldn't even put together a sentence in his head. There was just one thing he couldn't keep himself from saying. He needed Blaine to know - wanted Blaine to know - even if it would piss him off again.

Dave cleared his throat. "Just... just so you know... I'm okay with you doing stuff with Kurt."

For a while Blaine didn't say anything, and that made Dave nervous after everything they'd been through that day already, so he thought maybe he needed to explain further.

"I mean... I. I just... if there wasn't weirdness with me and Kurt, I'd want to... the three of us could... but we can't because Kurt hates me so... I'm just saying I'd be okay with that. With you doing stuff with him, even though I can't."

Blaine's hands ran down to Dave's shoulders, rubbing them gently, slowly, like he was petting a cat. "Okay," Blaine whispered after a moment.

Dave nodded and bit his lower lip, staring at the clock on Blaine's nightstand for no real reason at all. Then after a moment he turned to nuzzle against Blaine's chest and said, "and I know I can't give you all the things he could so... if it meant I got to keep being with you and you got to get all of what you need... I wouldn't... it wouldn't bother me. Just... so you know."

Blaine's hands paused and Dave listened to him breathe. After a moment Blaine whispered, "Okay."

Dave nodded and pressed his cheek to Blaine's chest just a little, feeling strange and small and clingy. He told himself he wouldn't push it further, but eventually he couldn't not ask it anymore so he closed his eyes and spoke. "So... are you going to?"

"No," Blaine murmured.

"Why not?" Dave lifted his eyes enough to see the fuzzy outline of Blaine's face through his eyelashes.

"Because I can't do it without telling Kurt about you - because that would be wrong - and I can't tell Kurt about you - because that's your secret to tell."

Dave nodded softly, and thought, but didn't say, Maybe I could tell. Maybe, for Blaine, I could tell. The thought made Dave's heart pound and for a moment he felt like he could do anything if he was doing it for Blaine.

Blaine kissed Dave's temple softly and whispered, "Let's cheer you up." He started lifting just a little, but he was beneath Dave and he wasn't going anywhere without Dave letting him.

"I'm fine," Dave protested, but he pulled away, rolling onto his back.

"Yes you are," Blaine murmured snarkily, lifting up and leering down at Dave.

Dave laughed and closed his eyes.

"Come on, sit up," Blaine commanded.

Reluctantly, Dave sat up and muttered, "What terrible thing are you going to do?" He was already blushing in preparation for some embarrassing act of "cheering up."

Blaine stood and pulled off his sweater and shirt in one swift move. Dave sat up a little straighter, eyes moving immediately to the love-bite on Blaine's stomach - the one Dave put there two nights ago.

"What're you doing?" Dave asked.

"You think I don't know what'll cheer you up?" Blaine asked, smiling that lovely snotty smile.

"I... I don't know how to cheer me up. How could you?" It wasn't like sex was a magic cure-all. It didn't always end in a happier place than it started with Dave. Yet another pang of guilt plucked at Dave's heart, that deep knowledge that he couldn't offer Blaine the emotional stability of a happy post-sex lover.

Dave just thought and sat and stared while Blaine wiggled out of his pants so that he was in his socks and boxer-briefs and nothing else. Dave loved those legs - those fit and tan thighs with a slight dusting of black hair.

"Strip," Blaine ordered. Trying not to stare at Blaine's legs, Dave got off the bed and obeyed immediately. "The underwear stays on."

"Why?" Dave asked, breathless as he dropped his pants to the ground.

"Because I said so," Blaine said, walking Dave back toward the bed when they were both in their skivvies.

"What are we doing?" Dave asked. The odd particulars Blaine kept laying down made him nervous and excited at the same time.

"Sit down," Blaine ordered, pointing at the bed.

Dave climbed backward, back onto the bedspread and Blaine climbed up in front of him, sliding into his lap yet again in that same, oh so loved position, making Dave's heart flutter. Blaine did that because he knew Dave liked it. Blaine did that for Dave.

"I know what you like," Blaine whispered, and he did, and it was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. "I don't know why you like it, but I do know that you like it." Blaine ran his hands up and down Dave's arms and kissed his lips a few times before whispering, "jerk me off."

Dave's heart raced faster. He DID like that. That WAS special. How the hell did Blaine see that? Head swimming with thoughts - hands moving with none - Dave did as he was told and as soon as his hand slid inside the fly of Blaine's boxer-briefs, Blaine's hand did the same to Dave's. They grasped each other's cocks, and their hands began to move. Every time Dave stroked, Blaine stroked.

Dave let out a shuttering breath. "What gave it away?" Dave asked, staring at Blaine, chest tight with adoration and arousal.

Blaine laughed, lips pink and damp and spread. "You always look at me when we do this. You don't always look at me when we fuck. You usually don't actually. But when my hand's on your cock, when your hand's on my cock... those beautiful green eyes open up and they're all mine."

Dave blushed and looked down, wanting to disprove it - to deny that it was possible Blaine had observed some innate truth about him - but Blaine's hand was stroking up and down and twisting so slightly at the wrist. It felt impossibly good and Dave WANTED to look up. He gasped and nudged his forehead at Blaine's jaw. He wanted it bad, but he held back, heart racing. I can't let him see that. I can't let him know that.

Suddenly, Blaine's hand squeezed tighter on an upward stroke and Dave's eyes flashed up to Blaine's involuntarily. And once their eyes locked, Dave couldn't bring himself to look away again.

Blaine grinned - victorious.

Dave felt small and fragile again underneath Blaine's gaze. For a moment they breathed and stared into each other and squeezed at each other - arms moving in time. Dave's mouth opened just a little. He couldn't keep it shut. He felt Blaine's hand getting slippery on his shaft, and then he felt precum dripping onto his own fingers.

Dave closed his eyes, getting so close he couldn't keep much of anything up – lost in the build – and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Blaine's. "Love this," He whispered.

Blaine made a little happy noise and then shifted his head slightly to press their lips together.

Blaine pressed kiss after kiss to Dave's softly parted lips, but never snuck in. The kisses brought Dave back to life, still so close but suddenly so desperate to posses Blaine. Dave's hand sped up, and he gently butted their foreheads together, pushing Blaine away so that he could look at him again - ravage him with his eyes. He watched Blaine whimper and melt under his gaze.

They both sped up in their movements, stroking fast. Their breath came in shallow and Blaine bounced a little like he always did when he got close.

Blaine bit his lip while Dave's jaw went slack and they stared – black into black.

Dave felt his chest swell, felt his muscles tighten. So close. "I'm gonna," he started to mutter but it was too late. He came, shuttering and squeezed tighter at Blaine's cock.

Blaine whined at how tight Dave's hand was, bouncing like he needed it to come as fast as possible. While Dave finished - face blank, eyes open and so deep - Blaine stroked him slow, milking him, and Dave stroked Blaine faster and faster.

Dave gasped for air when he finally stopped shuttering. He kept staring, though Blaine's eyes closed. Watching Blaine lose it was a treat, even without getting to stare into him. Blaine writhed and licked his lips, hands slipping to Dave's hips, shoulders twisting, stomach clenching and releasing.

"Come," Dave whispered, moving his hand up and down as fast as he could. "Come for me."

Blaine's body tightened suddenly - rigid and still. Cum spurted up into Dave's hand and Dave milked him slow, watching him. He looked like a greek statue. Then Blaine collapsed with a loud and undignified grunt, and hung against Dave's body.

Slowly, Dave pulled Blaine closer so that their slick bellies pressed together, and he lay back, pulling Blaine down on top of him. He closed his eyes and nuzzled against Blaine's hair and murmured, "damn."

They lay quiet for a while. Dave's chest was tight, his heart warm and impossibly full.

Blaine made a sound like a wild baby animal – purring, cooing – and nuzzled against Dave's chest. The movement and the sound made the corners of Dave's eyes wrinkle in a grin. Every move just amplified Dave's conclusion – Blaine was perfect. Too perfect to be real. He toyed with the thought of saying it - saying what he was thinking. Part of him wanted to so badly. But the moment and the desire passed so instead he just played with Blaine's hair and sighed gently. I love you, he thought.

Minutes passed in long breaths.

Dave wondered if Blaine was asleep. He liked the feeling of Blaine's weight on top of him, liked to feel Blaine's body shift just a little with every breath.

"Are you going to come over tomorrow?" Blaine asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Dave smiled. "If you want."

"I do."

A few moments passed quietly, and Blaine's fingertips teased along Dave's ribs. It tickled, but only a little, and it only increased the strength of the memory Dave was trying to fight out of his head. The memory of something long ago. Something perfect and precious and long gone.

"Blaine?" Dave whispered.

"Yeah?" Blaine whispered back.

"I want to tell you something," Dave said. "Something I never told anyone." He could feel heat rushing to his face. He'd told himself a hundred times this moment wouldn't come - he'd told himself he'd never want to tell Blaine. But he did.

"What?" Blaine asked softly, lifting up just a little.

"No. Stay down," Dave murmured. "Can't do it if I'm looking at you."

Blaine settled back down without a question.

Dave swallowed. "We... we used to do that. What we just did."

"Huh?"

Dave chewed his lower lip, trying desperately to find the words to say it without actually SAYING it, but there were no other words that would do.

"I... Me and Az," Dave whispered. His heart skipped a beat and he bit his lip again, closing his eyes and trying to make the stabbing guilt go away. He'd told Blaine about Azimio, but only vaguely. "When we were kids we used to jerk each other off."

"What?" The shock in Blaine's voice bit at Dave's heart.

"It... it was just a thing. Not like a gay thing." He insisted, lifting his head a little but not opening his eyes. "It was just a kids thing. We'd just... do it and close our eyes and pretend it was a girl - or... ihe/i would pretend it was a girl." Dave wanted to pause but it was all coming out – all right then. No stopping it. "And... when we got older and we figured out about... When Az figured out that doing it made us gay he decided we had to stop and we promised we'd never tell anyone, and we promised we'd never do anything like it ever again because if we did it'd mean we were gay and it would mean that all the times we did it when we were kids would mean..."

Dave swallowed hard. It had all come out so suddenly. He hadn't realized until he was saying it how built up it was - like millions of gallons of water behind a breaking levee. "If he knew that I..." Dave swallowed and stared up at the ceiling like the words he was seeking would be written across it, but they weren't, and he hoped that he didn't have to really spell it out – hoped that Blaine understood. "...he'd never be able to look at me again."

For a long time neither of them said anything and Dave was terrified to know what the silence meant - what horrible things Blaine was thinking.

"It was a long time ago," Dave whispered.

Blaine nodded. After a moment he said, "they say a lot of kids... experiment."

Dave nodded miserably. He'd thought saying it would make it better. But Blaine was so quiet. Why is he so quiet?

"You were in love with him?" Blaine asked.

Dave's chest felt hollow, like Blaine had blown a massive hole through it. In one moment he felt so deeply wronged by such an invasive question and so deeply relieved and comforted that finally, after all these years, somebody had asked. After what felt like far too long a wait, Dave whispered, "I think so."

Blaine nodded softly.

"So..." Blaine started and then paused before finishing, "that's why you can't come out." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Dave said, voice hoarse. He licked his lips slowly. "I just... I just thought you should know."

"Thank you," Blaine whispered. "For confiding in me."

Dave nodded.

Again they were quiet. Dave was glad Blaine couldn't see his face. He wasn't crying, but he was very near it. He inhaled suddenly, a deep and ragged breath and then exhaled again.

"That's... that's why I like looking at you when we do that," Dave whispered finally. "I... I like being allowed to." Dave ran the back of his hand over his eyes and laughed miserably.

Blaine pressed his lips to Dave's chest. "Luckily," Blaine whispered, "I like that you like it."

Dave smiled and squeezed Blaine tight.