A/N: So yay! Quick update! Who knew it was possible for me? Certainly not me! Anywhos, enjoy enjoy. I'm not really happy with this chapter but it'll have to do, I guess. Sigh :p.
Not owning Glee is what I do best in my life
Well, when Kurt said ever again it was a bit of a stretch of the imagination. It's definitely not entirely accurate or else Blaine Anderson wouldn't be in his hotel room in Florence, Italy, stretching him open.
So it would probably be fair to wonder how Kurt and Blaine both ended up in Florence at the same time and, more importantly, how they were in this current predicament, five years after they first and last saw each other.
"Dad, I have dreams."
"You think I'm not aware of that, kid?"
"No. I'm sure you are; you've been familiar with them since I was four and I was demanding you find me a prince on a pretty white horse, not brown or black – that would be tacky, I just don't think you realise how ambitious my enhanced wisdom and aging has made me."
Burt simply crossed his arms and gave Kurt his best 'I'm not impressed' glare. Kurt inherited that one and can be found using it on Finn approximately seven times a day.
"I get that you want to get out of this stinking town. I don't blame you. But why can't you be escaping to New York or L.A or something in this country? Why Florence?"
"Because, Dad, Florence offers me the prospect of delicious fashion that is not for the weak at heart and a fresh start. I don't want to be tied down to America."
"What about Broadway, then?"
"Dad, please keep up. That dream boat sailed a long time ago," Kurt mimicked Burt's positioning but with more poise and, funnily enough, radiating more authority. "You know it's my way or the high way and once I turn eighteen you can't stop me, right? I want to be in Florence. Florence is where my heart is."
"Okay, but what will you do in Florence?" Burt still looked thoroughly unconvinced.
"Fashion, duh! I'll be a fashion editor, a designer, a sales clerk. I'm not sure, but I'll find something. I'll do an internship. It'll be fine, just relax, dad."
Burt merely nodded his head and walked out of the room, grumbling about attitude, ambition and 'gets it from his mother'.
In the next few months where Kurt locked himself in his bedroom, refusing to sleep or eat until he found a new job or internship option for doing fashion in Florence, Kurt finally struck gold.
One night, as he was steadfastly ignoring Finn who was sitting behind him on his bed, bouncing up and down like an over excited puppy, he found an advertisement put out by a small shop owner, who designs and sells their own clothing, looking for an intern to help with designing and creating clothing. Kurt immediately emailed the owner, Natalia, expressing his almost too eager interest in the position and explaining how much it would mean to him.
One week, 6 days, 14 hours and 9 minutes (not to be precise) later Natalia replied informing Kurt that he was the only person to email him about the position and as long as he sent her in a folio of his work he more than certainly had the position.
Kurt absolutely adored her accent and found himself salivating over the thought of a sexy, tanned, Italian boy speaking dirty to him with that accent. His smouldering eyes turning from a grey to a melting hazel colour, piercing into his soul. He shook his head and snapped out of the daydream before he had a seizure from his built up sexual tension all because of stupid Blaine.
Blaine who's last name he'd completely forgotten in the haze of post mind blowing orgasm; who he hadn't seen for over nine months; who had undoubtedly forgotten all about stupid, pale, scrawny Kurt Hummel.
The day that Kurt graduated from William McKinley High School was probably one of the greatest days of his life. He was over the tedium of arriving at a school filled with Neanderthals who had smaller brains that his little toe and thrived on making his life a living hell.
The weeks after graduation found Kurt finishing his packing; sitting on his now stripped bare mattress, which would be getting air mailed to him ASAP, staring at his blank room; so cold and disconnected from how it usually was. The hominess of his bedroom evaporating through the cracks in his windowsill like most of the connections he held to Lima, Ohio.
The goodbyes to his father, stepmother, stepbrother and closest friends were difficult. Rachel and her boyfriend, Jesse were moving to New York so they could pursue their mutual dreams of blowing the Broadway world away and making history and Finn was staying behind in Lima to help Burt with the tyre shop.
Tears were shed; people were squished in fierce hugs; promises of calls and Skype sessions and post cards were made and finally it was time for Kurt to say goodbye to narrow-minded, homophobic Lima.
He was enthusiastic about moving on with his life, maybe finding a nice Italian boy and finally forgetting about Blaine McStupid Face who gave amazing blowjobs.
How wrong he was.
He had been interning at the little boutique in the heart of Florence called L'Uccellino for four years and he loved every second of it. The clothes both he, Natalia and the other designer, Giacomo, created were pure genius and this job was everything he could have dreamed of and more.
He began as an intern but Natalia quickly discovered how amazingly talented Kurt was as asked him to stay on full time. He, of course, immediately agreed and had never looked back on his decision once.
Now it was May 27th, also known as his birthday, and he was celebrating by going to the local bar and getting drunk out of his brains and hopefully picking up a man for the night.
Through his years in Florence, he'd never had any real relationships, always finding that the man was missing a certain characteristic. Kurt put it down to his fear of being hurt and let down when he showed his vulnerable side but there was a little, logical part of his brain that knew the true reason was the curly hair, hazel eyes, tanned skin and triangular eyebrows that plagued his thoughts every time he closed his eyes.
Get a grip on yourself, Hummel. It's been five years. You need to stop obsessing over this person who doesn't even live in the same country as you anymore and it's really sad and you need a life.
As he was mentally chastising himself, he failed to pay attention to where he was going and knocked into an innocent bystander on the side of the road which sent them both sprawling on the ground with jolts of electricity spiking through his blood at every point that their skin made contact.
"Oh, God. I'm so sorry. I'm a klutz and totally out of it and it's my birthday and I just wanted to get drunk and drown out my problems with mindless sex but …why am I telling a complete stranger this?" he trailed off and finally allowed himself to look up to his victim's face after making sure his outfit was still in pristine condition.
His breath caught. The eyes boring into his were so familiar that Kurt would have recognised them a mile away. There had never been another person Kurt had ever seen who possessed such spectacular and kind eyes as the person in front of his. The man's hair was free now compared to the half gelled bucket it had been in the first time they'd met and his fashion had become far more relaxed.
He looked good. Really fucking tantalising Kurt thought to himself, appreciating the man in front of him.
When the silence where Kurt ogled Blaine had stretched on to the point where it passed awkward and bordered on creepy and stalkerish, Blaine finally cleared his throat and looked at Kurt questioningly. "See something you like..." he asked as he raised an eyebrow. "…Kurt?"
Kurt was sure he had just had an aneurism. Or at least a seizure. Maybe his brain just short-circuited but all of a sudden he was way too aware of everything so essentially Blaine surrounding him and clogging up his pores. He was certain he could taste him and it was delicious and totally okay because Blaine remembered who Kurt was.
"You remember?"
"How could I forget? It was the most memorable night of my life," he flirtatiously winked before continuing, "and I thought I'd really made a connection with a guy who I would never see again." It was said in a playful tone but there was a hint of sadness and regret there that made Kurt's heart ache because, wow, okay imagine if he'd been my boyfriend throughout high school. Maybe I wouldn't have cried myself to sleep countless times. Wait, he's talking. Listen. No don't stare at his beautiful, perfectly shaped lips, idiot.
"Um, yeah, look, I totally didn't catch that. What?"
Blaine just looked amused, as if catching Kurt off guard and making him a blubbering pile of teenage girl was an achievement. "I said, what are you doing in Florence?"
"Ha, well it's quite a long story," It wasn't really but, hey, Blaine didn't need to know that, "how about I tell you over dinner?"
"Oh, kind sir, are you asking me on a date?" Blaine clutched his chest, battered his eyelashes and pretended to swoon, "you sure know how to woo me!"
Kurt hit him on the shoulder, relishing in the feeling of not seeing someone for five years and feeling so immeasurably comfortable with them even though you hardly know them. "Well, if you're getting cocky I think I might pass. There'd only be room for one diva in this relationship and that's me."
Blaine laughed again and held his arm out for Kurt to take, "I know a fantastic restaurant. Shall we go?"
Kurt looped his arm through Blaine's, "We shall. Lead the way!"
The restaurant was very nice. It was small and cosy, in a laneway off the main streets of Florence. It was one of those places where if you didn't know it was there, you wouldn't notice it.
As they entered, Blaine was immediately swept into a hug by a short, plump woman.
"Ciao! Blaine! Come stai! E chi è questo ragazzo? Il tuo fidanzato nuovo?"
Kurt may not be fluent in Italian but he could understand it and got what she was saying, feeling a blush making its first appearance of the night.
Now, when Kurt said he could understand it, he may have been lying considering that when Blaine decided to start rattling off in fluent Italian, Kurt was stuck, rooted to the spot, mouth hanging open, staring in wonder at Blaine.
Blaine had apparently finished his little "Oh look at me I can speak Italian let me make your dick say hi with my talents" rant, he turned to Kurt, "Kurt, close your mouth, you're going to catch flies."
Kurt's mouth immediately snapped close and he stalked off to the table the waiter was indicating they sit at; a small table with a candle in the most secluded part of the restaurant. Blaine followed like the good puppy he is.
They were seated and looking at their menus when Kurt felt a prickling on his neck; a telltale sign that you're being watched. He looked up and locked eyes with Blaine.
"You're gorgeous, you know?" Blaine immediately clapped a hand over his mouth and Kurt felt himself flush. "I didn't mean to say that. Oops. Oh well, it's true. Since the last – first, whatever – time I saw you, you've somehow gotten even more amazing which I didn't think was possible.
"Shut up, Blaine" Kurt mumbled, the sound muffled as he was hiding behind his hand. Blaine reached over and pulled Kurt's hand away but instead of letting it go, let them both rest on the table; Blaine's warm hand with calloused fingers, tingling over the feel of Kurt's soft, smooth skin.
Kurt looked up, eyes twinkling, took a deep breath - you can do this Kurt Hummel – and the conversation flowed smoothly. They were so immersed in their conversation they didn't notice that after an hour they hadn't ordered yet and reluctantly broke their discussion in favour of ordering.
"Prendo una pizza napolitana, e tu, Kurt, cosa vuoi?"
Kurt was, once again, mesmerized by Blaine's sexy Italian talking thing that he'd been doing that he didn't realize Blaine had asked him what he wanted.
"Oh, um, I'll have – I mean – prendo un insalata di pollo, per favore."
"E di bere?"
"Vogliamo vino – il migliore, se possibile. Grazie."
Their waitress smiled at them and left to prepare their food.
"Okay, to get down to the nitty-gritty stuff. How did you end up in Florence?" Kurt asked.
"Hmm, well, as you know, growing up in Ohio and being gay; probably the worst mixture possible in someone's life and I always knew I had to get out. Ever since I came out in middle school I'd been itching to leave. My dad and me had so many fights over it. He's a harsh man, he means well.. I guess.. he just doesn't go about it well.
"So, yeah, I'd planned on moving to London or somewhere where I could get a really sexy accent or something," Kurt didn't think it was necessary to point out how Blaine was already too sexy and couldn't possibly further that, "but instead I somehow ended up here in Florence."
"What did you parents think about that?"
"Mum was fine with it; she always has wanted me to be happy. She doesn't care what the consequences are just so long as I'm content. Dad on the other hand, I think that's a story for another day. Let's not let it ruin our lovely evening. I'll tell you sometime, though." Kurt tried to ignore the jump his stomach did at the prospect of seeing Blaine again and again and again. "What about you? How'd you end up in this beautiful city?"
"Pretty much same as you, wanted out of Lima, no longer had the aspirations to be on Broadway, wanted to do fashion, got an internship, am still working there, designing and making clothes today and the rest is history!"
Blaine smirked, "I thought you said it was a long story."
Kurt flushed for what had to have been the seventeenth time that night. Curse Blaine and his charming, amazing, beautiful, gorgeous, hot, yum, delicious qualities. Kurt sighed because he thankfully was saved from answering by the waitress coming back with their food.
They were quiet as the ate, occasionally making comments on how good the food was or Kurt surreptitiously watching Blaine watching him with wide eyes as he groaned when he tried the chicken. Two could play the sensual game.
By the time they'd finished dinner and desert and were on their second bottle of wine they could be classified as a little frisky, handsy, happy and definitely very horny.
"Kurt…Kurt…Kurt," Blaine managed, "Let's go back to my apartment.. what do you say?"
Kurt replied by fisting his hands in Blaine's shirt and crashing their lips together.
It'd been five years since he'd last tasted Blaine and this renewing of the sensation was so many good things in the world. Kurt felt more drunk off of Blaine than the alcohol and his head was a mushy mess of Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, more, need, now, Blaine and he couldn't even think coherently when he felt Blaine's tongue gently caressing his own, the faint taste of the lemon gelato he had and his coffee lingering and permeating Kurt's mouth now.
When the point where breathing became difficult arrived, Blaine reluctantly pulled away and whispered against Kurt's lips, "I think I heard you say it was your birthday, so, happy birthday," before leaning in again and recapturing Kurt's lips with his own.
They didn't even care that they were in the middle of Florence, late at night. They were mixing between exchanging brief but passionate kisses and running hand in hand down the streets towards Blaine's apartment.
In Kurt's opinion, this was his best birthday ever and he couldn't have wished to spend it with a better person than Blaine Anderson.
After what seemed to be nine hours of running and kissing and groping and giggling and stumbling because they were drunk and coordination was way past them at this point, in fact, at one point when Blaine had gone in for a kiss he'd accidentally ended up licking Kurt's nostril, they finally arrived at Blaine's apartment and Kurt roughly pushed Blaine up against the wall of the building, savoring the feel of the cold bricks against Blaine's overheated skin.
Hands wondered, tongues roamed, breath intermingled, passion exploded from the both of them and by the time they made it back up to Blaine's room, giving all by passers quite the show, they were both hard as a rock.
The door slammed closed before them and after a brief moment of staring at each other, as they seemed to do a lot, they grabbed on and didn't let go.
Blaine ran his hand up Kurt's thigh, as he plunged his tongue into Kurt's mouth and Kurt sucked on it, and hoisted Kurt's legs up to wrap around Blaine. Blaine could feel Kurt's erection pressing into his stomach and, by golly; it just made him harder than he thought he could possibly be. His hard on was straining across his, now too tight, jeans and Kurt unwound himself from around Blaine and got down on his knees before taking the zipper of Blaine's jeans in his mouth and pulling down.
Kurt, you go girl! Show the boy what you're made of! Kurt wasn't sure where all this confidence and adventurism was coming from but he wasn't complaining and neither was Blaine if the sounds being emitted from his mouth were anything to go by.
Kurt undid the button of Blaine's jeans and pushed both his jeans and briefs down in one go. For a moment, he stayed rooted to the spot, marveling in the beauty of Blaine's penis.
Kurt never really described penises as beautiful but nothing less could be said about Blaine's. It wasn't quite as long as Kurt's own but it was thicker and there was a small patch of hair at the base, curly and looking tantalizing. Before Kurt knew what he was doing, he was reaching out and running his thumb over the slit of Blaine's cock, collecting the pre-cum and then sucking his thumb back into his mouth; moaning at the taste.
Blaine couldn't take it any longer and pulled Kurt back up and rejoined their lips, nipping at Kurt's bottom lips because the sounds he was making were plain sinful. Not one person should be allowed to be that perfect.
Kurt broke away and groaned out, "Blaine, now. I need you. In me. Now." Blaine didn't have to be asked twice and instantly grabbed Kurt's own pants and briefs, pulling them down and off before flicking them off somewhere mysterious to be dealt with at another time because right now it was all about Kurt having no clothes on and undergarments were really just a nuisance.
Kurt heard Blaine's breath catch when he looked down at Kurt's throbbing erection and licked his lips simultaneously. Kurt found it insanely hot that he could elicit that kind of reaction from Blaine and wanted more.
"Do you – do you have lube? We need lube. And a condom" Kurt managed and Blaine quickly ran, leaving Kurt with his head against the wall, panting and itching to reach down and touch himself but not wanting to give up a minute of Blaine doing it for him.
Blaine came running back into the room, lube and condom in hand and already had one hand slicked up, ready to push inside Kurt's tight entrance.
He pushed Kurt farther against the wall and Kurt instinctively wrapped his legs around Blaine again and felt an intense shiver run up his spine as Blaine's cool finger due to the lube teased and his puckering hole.
Blaine pushed his finger in, slowly, slowly, teasing Kurt, cherishing in the feel of Kurt's tight ring of muscles contracting and relaxing around him. Kurt let out a long string of profanities and began fucking himself onto Blaine's hand.
"More! More now, Blaine. More before I kill you"
Blaine chuckled, "someone's impatient when they're turned on, aren't they?"
Kurt didn't reply, instead choosing to kiss Blaine with all the fervor he had, to which Blaine responded eagerly, pushing in a second then third finger. Spreading and scissoring them so that they hit that little bundle of nerves that drew out the most delectable of sounds from Kurt.
"Blaine, I'm ready now. I need you right now, please" Kurt begged, almost on the verge of tears because of how unbelievably turned on he was.
Before Blaine pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his leaking dick, he felt he owed it to Kurt to tell him.
"Kurt .. Kurt I need to tell you something."
"You talk too much."
"No. I really need you to know this."
"Less words, more fucking, please."
"I have a boyfriend."
That got Kurt's attention and he immediately stopped all his actions, blood running cold.
"What?"