A/N: Huge thank you's and much love to everyone who reviewed and enjoyed the last chapter! Getting reviews encourages me to keep writing and not give up on this fanfic. :)
Also as some of you may or may not have noticed I changed the summary.. I can't really decide if this one or the old is better, or if they both suck(ed). If anyone has an opinion or suggestion regarding that, let me know! I would greatly appreciate it. :)
Warning: More disturbing stalker-related content. Poor Kurt! It has to get worse before it gets better, though. :)
Next chapter should be published in a week or less.
Later that night...
A warm body was pressed flush against his, a muscled chest cradled against Kurt's back, a strong arm covering and pinning him securely, the other arm underneath Kurt's head. He felt warm breath tickling his neck; the fresh smell of Blaine's cologne enveloping him. Blaine's heartbeat beat slowly, intimately, in time with his through the point of contact. It resounded throughout his entire body, like a deep bass note.
The thick fog of sleep clouding his brain, Kurt groaned and pressed his body even closer against Blaine's, craving the contact. Everything felt hazy and pleasant, like a dream, the one that is always forgotten in the morning.
Blaine shifted slightly, possessively tightening his arm's hold on Kurt's body; his lips ghosting against the other boy's mussy hair.
"Kurt." Blaine murmured dreamily in his sleep.
After a moment, he felt the other boy start to stir, as though he was waking up. Blaine's heartbeat sped up, not in time with his anymore; it was beating a faster tune. He started to pull away from Kurt, releasing his formerly tight grip.
Kurt let out a tiny needy whimper in protest and rolled over, still half-asleep, wrapping his arms and legs around Blaine like an octopus. He nestled his head onto Blaine's shoulder comfortably, breathing in deep, satisfied now that Blaine had stopped moving away.
Suddenly, Kurt shifted slightly, making his leg brush against Blaine's groin and encountering something that felt like -
Oh, my god. He has an erection. Kurt blushed madly in embarrassment, realizing that Blaine wasn't the only one.
The reality of the situation hit Kurt like a bucketful of ice cold water and his eyes flew open, now wide awake.
He quickly scrambled away to the opposite end of the bed, grabbing a nearby fluffy blanket to subtly cover up his – er – problem. A problem that Kurt was desperately hoping Blaine hadn't noticed.
Blaine's face was extremely red, his eyes wide and stricken. He looked even more mortified than Kurt, if that was possible.
"Crap, Kurt I'm so – so sorry. I didn't mean to – like – assault you in your sleep. Oh god, I feel like some sort of – I'm so sorry. Sometimes – I – you know, cuddle up to people in my sleep. I can't help it, and my body reacts -" Blaine continued to babble apologies and explanations, his eyes getting wider and more panicked with every word that stumbled out of his mouth. It
made Kurt feel slightly calmer for some reason. And I thought I was embarrassed.
Kurt put finger up to Blaine's lips, shushing him. "Um – it's okay. I wasn't entirely innocent either – about the cuddling I mean."
"I guess we're both cuddle monsters." Blaine said, with a smile that seemed to announce he had regained his usual cheer.
Kurt smiled nervously back and glanced over at the small digital clock on the nightstand by the bed. Its red numbers flashed '1:00 A.M.' with far too much merriment for Kurt's sinking heart. His Dad was going to kill him for staying out this late, especially without calling.
"Well – um, it's late. I should get going." Kurt said. He sat up and managed to gather enough presence of mind to smooth down, or rather try to smooth down his ruffled hair.
"Yeah, of course." Blaine said. "I'll walk you to the door."
They both got up and silently walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs towards the front door.
This only going to be awkward for, oh, forever. Kurt thought to himself dryly.
When they reached the front door Blaine opened it for him, releasing a gust of freezing air from outside into the warm house.
Kurt wrinkled his nose and shivered from the cold, it felt as though it was at least 30 degrees outside and a dusting of pure white snow covered the formerly green lawn.
"Hold on, I'll lend you a coat." Blaine said, disappearing for a minute back into the depths of the house.
He returned with a long black pea coat that he offered to Kurt insistingly.
"Thanks." Kurt said, putting it on and buttoning it up. "I'll make sure to return it in excellent condition."
"You're the last person I'd be worried about lending clothes to. I think you treat your clothes better than you treat people." Blaine said, smirking teasingly.
Kurt huffed and rolled his eyes in response. Well, that's probably true.
"Goodbye, Blaine." Kurt said, as he took his first step into the inhospitable weather outside, the snow crunching under his feet.
"Bye, Kurt. Drive safe." Blaine said from behind him.
Then, just before Blaine shut the door, Kurt heard a quiet rustle from somewhere nearby. The sound made him remember the reason he had originally even gone to Blaine's house that day. He couldn't help letting out a tiny shriek as fear and adrenaline flooded through his body and bolted back inside the house quicker than if the hounds from hell were nipping at his heels.
Kurt clutched onto Blaine's arm as if his life depended on it, which it possibly could, and stared out into the night, his eyes huge and round.
Then, from the direction of the sound, the grey tabby cat from earlier appeared. It turned its head to stare at Kurt, its bright green eyes seeming to regard him with a distant and superior scorn before walking calmly back into the darkness of the street.
"Um, Kurt?" Blaine said quietly.
Kurt started, and looked over at Blaine, who was looking back at him with his brown furrowed in what looked like concern and – pain? Oh
He looked down and realized that his hands were clenched so tightly onto Blaine's arm that Kurt's fingers were turning white from the lack of blood flow.
"Sorry." He said quickly, and released his tight grip. Blaine sighed in relief, rubbing his arm where Kurt had clenched onto it.
"I – uh, got startled. But, it was just a cat." Kurt mumbled, his cheeks heating up.
Blaine sighed again, staring intensely at Kurt for a moment.
"Kurt... Why can't you tell me what's really wrong?" Blaine said softly, with something close to hurt in his voice.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Kurt replied, crossing his arms defensively in front of his chest and staring Blaine down with as much indifference as he could muster.
"I think you do." Blaine replied, regarding Kurt patiently.
"I don't. And if you're going to be an interrogator can you at least close the door, so that we don't freeze to death?" Kurt said icily, getting ready to use his defensive verbal spikes, sharp as that of a porcupine's, and the only protection he had ever had.
"Okay." Blaine said, shutting the door without a sound. "Don't pretend, Kurt. I know something is wrong and it's why you came over today. You're scared of something, it's written all over your face."
"So what if something is wrong? I can take care of myself just fine. I've been doing it for years." Kurt said, ignoring the pleading expression in Blaine's eyes. "Thanks for your concern, though. Can I leave now?" Kurt moved to push past Blaine, who was blocking the front door.
Blaine stepped to the side to allow Kurt access to the door, before speaking. "Kurt, if I were you, I'd be more careful about pushing away people who care. It's not a crime to let someone in, or ask for help."
Blaine paused, letting the words sink in. Kurt stayed silent, his face as smooth and blank of expression as before, a hand grasped tightly on the doorknob.
Blaine sighed. "Okay. I'll be here if you ever want to talk, it's your choice."
With that, Blaine turned around and started to walk away, his bare feet making only a mere whisper of a sound on the wood floor.
"Wait!" Kurt called out to him suddenly.
Blaine stopped and turned his head to look at him, an eyebrow raised questioningly.
Kurt swallowed nervously, unused to doing this. "Thank you for caring, really. I'm sorry for acting like a – bitch." Kurt paused, the cuss word tasting strange on his tongue, but it was really the only word that fit.
"But, as I said before, I am more than able to take care of myself. Just because I'm a sub doesn't mean I'm weak." Kurt continued, unable to stop himself from tacking the last part onto his short speech. "You don't need to worry about me."
"I don't think you're weak." Blaine said, staring at Kurt with a strange enlightenment in his eyes, as though he was seeing him for the first time. "And your apology is accepted."
"Okay." Kurt said, flashing Blaine a relieved smile. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, then. I have to get back home before my Dad kills me and feeds my body to ravenous wolves."
Blaine grinned and gave a short laugh. "Good luck."
"I'll need it." Kurt said dryly, feeling genuinely apprehensive of his dad's inevitable wrath.
Kurt then opened the door, stepping out from the safe cocoon of warmth within the house, his breath visible in the air.
It was snowing lightly, not enough that it would be dangerous to drive, but enough that Kurt was soaked to the bone with melted snowflakes by the time he reached his car.
He got inside, shivering, with his teeth clattering together loudly and hard enough that it could easily be heard and started the car, turning the heat and music on full blast before driving away, deep in thought, mixed emotions swirling throughout him.
He knew that he was scared when it came to Blaine, scared of what opening himself up would mean. He kept his secret emotions tightly coiled within himself, one slight slip, one call for help, and they might all come rushing out. He couldn't let that happen. Not to mention that Blaine most likely had enough issues of his own, he didn't need to worry about Kurt's as well.
Kurt glided his car into, and parked in the driveway of his home. Hoping, that perhaps his father had gone to sleep early, and never noticed that Kurt hadn't come home, as unlikely as that was.
He softly walked up to the front door and put the key in the lock slower than he ever had in his life. The clicking sound when it unlocked seemed as loud as a gunshot to Kurt's currently hypersensitive hearing, making him wince fearfully.
The door creaked and squeaked loudly when he edged it open. He had never noticed how deafening this door was before. Why was it never fixed?
He softly shut it, eliciting another series of creaks, as if the door was complaining about his late arrival.
All of the lights in the house were off, it was illuminated only by the dim glow of streetlights streaming through the windows and soundless beyond Kurt's breathing.
Kurt blinked, extremely surprised that his dad wasn't waiting up for him. He couldn't quite believe it. Apparently there is a god after all.
He took off his snow encrusted shoes and started to tiptoe softly through the hallway, dripping water on the carpeting as he headed for the stairs leading down to his bedroom.
Then, as he passed by the kitchen, he saw something stuck on the fridge out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and squinted, making out the faint outline of what looked like a note. He walked over in response, and took out his cellphone to use as a flashlight.
Kurt,
I'm going to be out late tonight.
Please be responsible and don't have anyone inappropriate over while I'm gone.
Kurt frowned to himself, his dad was rarely gone very late, so this was unusual to say the least.
His mind drifted to the obvious solution to the mystery; he had met someone.
Kurt wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. His first, rather silly, thoughts were images of a wicked fairytale-esque stepmother making him wear dirty rags and clean the house from top to bottom. 'I want to be able to see my reflection on this floor! It has to sparkle like it's made of diamonds, you lazy bitch.' His imaginary stepmother screamed at him.
His mind only entertained the thought for a moment before returning to reason. His father deserved to be happy; after all Kurt's mom had been dead for eight years now. He knew that his father was lonely; he could see it by the haggard expression in his eyes when he thought his son wasn't looking.
Before Kurt could ponder it any further, his cellphone rang loudly in his hand. Kurt started in surprise and peered down at his phone. Unknown caller. He almost considered not picking it up; it was probably just a wrong number, after all.
But, it could be something important. Kurt hit the bright green 'answer' button after the first two rings, lifting the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" Kurt said hesitantly.
There was no reply for a few long seconds, only the sound of heavy, masculine, and almost nervous breathing across the line.
Kurt sighed to himself, he hated pranksters like this with a passion. "Okay, not funny. I'm hanging up now, asshole."
Just as Kurt was about to lift the phone from his ear and end the call, a voice spoke. It was a strangely and unnaturally deep and raspy voice, as though the caller was trying to disguise it and keep it unrecognizable.
"Where were you, Kurt?" The stranger rasped.
Kurt felt all the blood drain from his face, leaving him ghostly pale. He was suddenly acutely aware of how alone he was in this house, and how dark it was. The clouds covering even the faint hopeful glow of moonlight.
"Who are you?" Kurt asked steadily, trying to keep any tremor from entering his voice. He knew that he could not let this person know he was scared. Fear is a sign of weakness to predators, a sign to attack.
"You weren't out with some guy, getting fucked in the ass, were you?" Questioned the caller, his voice turning towards savage, a tone as sharp as a knife. The threat not even buried, but evident.
Kurt gulped, his hands growing so cold and clammy that he was almost losing his grip on the phone.
"N-no. I wasn't." Kurt managed to say through his nervous stammer
"Are you lying to me?" The caller growled out, with a stranger tremor in his voice; almost as if he feared the answer.
"No. I'm not lying." Kurt whispered. Please believe me.
"You wouldn't let someone else touch you, would you, Kurt?" The stranger rushed on without waiting for him to answer. "I know you're not a slut. God, you're so fucking beautiful and pure. I'm the only one that can ever touch you, understand?"
"Y-yes." Kurt croaked out. He would say whatever he needed to, in order to end this nightmare of a phone call.
"Good. Sweet dreams." He said, sounding calmer, satisfied. "And you'd better not tell anyone about us, or I'll kill you and what little family you have."
A click resounded across the line, indicating that he had hung up.
Kurt stood frozen, phone still held at his ear, the only movement being the full body tremors going through him. Then, after a minute had passed, as though he was finally unglued from the floor, he bolted out of the dark kitchen. He ran to his bedroom, down the stairs, faster than he had ever ran before in his life. Every shadow glimpsed out of the corner of his eyes seemed to take on a human form, beckoning to him with menacing grins.
He reached the safety of his bedroom and turned on the light switch, the sudden brightness almost blinding him with its intensity. Panting, sweaty, and out of breath even though he had only ran a miniscule distance.
He took off Blaine's coat with shaky hands, putting it carefully on his bed before taking off the rest of his clothes and changing into a clean pair of blue designer pajamas.
He climbed into his cold bed, moisturizing routine forgotten, and too frightened to turn the light off.
He lay there, snuggled underneath the covers, wide awake, heart pounding. Blaine's coat lay innocently at the end of the bed, a temptation.
Kurt grabbed the coat, hugging it close to his body, breathing in the comforting scent of Blaine's distinctive cologne, woodsy and with a hint of vanilla, as though he was there next to Kurt, keeping him safe.
Kurt heard the sound of the front door opening and closing upstairs, signaling that his father had come home; a small comfort but not enough to keep Kurt from laying awake all night, wide eyed and with a pounding heart.
