AN: I waited until I finished the story to post the last few chapters. Expect the last few chapters to update regularly.
.
I'd see the people smile, when I would sing for them
.
Seeing Quinn feeling so free about being out weighs on Rachel, a little.
It's unsettling, that she's much more nervous to come out than Quinn is at this point. She's spent her entire life "out," in a way, about being the child of gay parents. She's always known how important this kind of struggle for acceptance can be, and always thought she understood. Now, she sees she has no idea.
But still. For Quinn's sake, she wants to try.
She's out to her parents and most of her friends, and that is a good start. But it doesn't feel like enough. It doesn't feel like the extent that Quinn has come out, for some reason.
It's on her mind, even if she doesn't really know what to do about it.
She had been more surprised than she should have been when she discovered Gretchen and Jeremy are in the original student musical with her. They can both sing, too, and it really shouldn't surprise her. It shouldn't be jarring. They're talented people.
But being face to face with Jeremy again, after everything that happened since they stopped seeing one another daily after the play finished its run, just makes Rachel want to wince when she looks him in the face. Not out of regret, or shame. Just out of embarrassment, for not knowing what she wanted, for thinking that she might want him. She sees him now, and sure, he's sweet, he's cute, he's totally her type, but…the spark hadn't been there, even though she had wanted it badly.
But even though they don't interact much, they're in the same show together. Rachel knows she can be professional, and for Jeremy, this seems to come easily. He's still the same sweet guy to her, just with a cordial air.
Gretchen, however, almost seems warmer. She's happy enough to see Rachel, anyway. They've had a lot of rehearsals every night, as they've really only had about a month to put this show together, and after a few weeks, Gretchen pulls her aside while they're backstage.
"The director asked me to speak with you," she tells Rachel quietly, "He…isn't sure you're quite what he's looking for."
Rachel's eyes widen, "Am I being cut?"
"No," Gretchen shakes her head, "Partly because I vouched for you. I saw you in Theseus Redux, er, Theo and the Science Labyrinth. And…I don't know. You were much stronger in that role."
Rachel isn't really sure what to say. "What am I doing wrong?"
Gretchen shrugs, "Not really tapping into the character, I suppose. You're acting a lot like your character in Theseus, that same sort of melodrama. Tell me, what drives your character?"
Truth be told, Rachel knows almost nothing about her character. This director hasn't really told her anything concrete, so there's just what Rachel has drawn from the script, and as it's an original work, she doesn't have anyone else's performance to base hers on. So she just shrugs and tells Gretchen she's just playing the character like any other.
"Yeah," Gretchen says slowly, "That's the problem."
Through talking, Rachel comes to realize that she views most of the roles she's interested in playing as very similar roles, and that watching these roles and idolizing these roles growing up has given her an odd sense of melodrama in her acting. She's always a diva, in other words. But Gretchen talks to her, runs lines with her, and Rachel starts to see something a little more subtle in her character.
It's weird to think that what made her so good at her last character might actually be a flaw in her acting. It's hard to get used to the idea that delivering her lines without a dramatic flair might be the right way for this character.
During a Tech Week rehearsal, just after the weekend that she and Quinn got off together, Gretchen works with her a little again, Rachel discovers an opportunity.
"This musical is so short, and honestly feels so thrown together because this director waited so long to get everything set up, that I'm not sure who I'm even going to ask to come see me," Gretchen admits one afternoon. "Which is a shame, because it is a good concept, and we have strong actors."
"Yeah," Rachel agrees, because it's this weekend and it's starting to feel really rushed. "I mean, I know my…Quinn will come see it, but probably no one else."
"Your Quinn?" Gretchen smiles. She certainly catches the awkwardness of Rachel's language.
"Yeah," Rachel nods, then eyes Gretchen uncertainly, "Can I trust you?"
Gretchen tilts her head, "I don't know. That's for you to decide."
Rachel scrutinizes her, and realizes she's right. And she decides that she probably does. "I'm struggling with something and I'm not sure how to deal with it and plan my future at the same time."
"Like what?" Gretchen asks.
Rachel is a little thrown by how direct she is, but she answers easily, "I'm struggling with being bisexual and wanting to be successful in an industry that's so image-conscious. The Quinn I mentioned…my girlfriend…this is a new discovery, and it's hard."
Gretchen nods, completely unsurprised, and looks thoughtful, "Well, if it helps, I'm feeling something of the same."
"Oh?" Rachel is very interested now.
"Remember when I told you I was…picky?" Rachel nods, and Gretchen grimaces. "That's not exactly the best word for me, I just didn't know what else to say at the time. But I've learned some things since then, and part of what I've learned is that I'm a little bit asexual."
"Really?" Rachel asks. It's something she doesn't know how to begin to conceptualize. It's easy enough to see what the word means, but it's not something she's ever put any thought into.
"I mean, there's a better word, but not a lot of people know it. I'm demisexual." At Rachel's blank expression, she explains, "That means I don't really get attracted to people until there's a deep connection, and for me, this mostly happens with guys. So I mean, for a long time, I just thought I was some kind of cold bitch because I so rarely felt attracted to someone, and because I felt that way, I acted that way a lot more. But soon I started realizing that the people I did end up having feelings for were often my friends, because we had a good emotional connection. And I'd get frustrated with myself for blurring those lines between friendship and love."
Rachel isn't sure what to say, so she just says, "I've never heard of this. But I relate to it, a little." There were reasons Rachel had decided she really had to have feelings for the people she slept with. It was hard to, otherwise, as she learned with Jeremy.
"Lots of people relate a little. The kind of people who don't fall in love until they really know someone. But I'm talking about more than just falling in love, although, for me, romantic feelings develop after I know someone well, too. I'm talking about being attracted sexually, too. Most people can think of others they're sexually attracted to that they haven't even had a conversation with. That's hard for me. That's not how my sexuality works."
And Rachel has to admit that's true. She's wary of sleeping with people she doesn't know well because she's more vulnerable that way. So it's not really a matter of needing feelings for the people she sleeps with, it's a matter of being able to trust them. Which, she reasons, is certainly not necessarily related to romantic feeling. If she thinks about it, she can imagine enjoying sex with Santana, and they certainly don't have a romantic connection. But they're friends, who have helped each other out. Rachel would trust her with her feelings and her body if something happened. Not that it would, because being able to admit that Santana is sexually appealing is so far from wanting to actually act on any of it. "Okay," she admits, "That isn't how things work for me." It certainly isn't how things work with her and women, thus far. She's been more acutely aware of her sexual attraction to them before being aware of her capacity to love them (she's on her way to loving Quinn, for sure, and it's not even all that scary or profound to realize this. Just natural).
"I didn't think so, after what happened with Jeremy. It was awkward, I heard, but not in a way that sounded like my experience."
And Rachel and men…that was a vulnerability thing, too. Rachel had always been more afraid of men's ability to hurt her physically and sexually, and, without realizing it until recently, women's ability to hurt her emotionally. She avoided sex with guys she didn't love not because she didn't want it before then, but because she wanted to be safe.
"So, okay. I get that. And you're worried about how it will affect your professional life?"
Gretchen gives her a hard look. "A bit. It might not sound as scary to you as having to tell people you're bisexual. But it does make casual dating harder, and if I'm a professional in the theater, how much time do I have to make deep relationships? Besides, I said mostly guys. That's a clue that I've fallen for women I'm close to as well. So you might follow your career with a girlfriend or a boyfriend. I might have either of those, too, but most likely I'll be alone." Rachel frowns, and Gretchen continues, "Not because I'm not worthy of a relationship, or whatever you're thinking, but because, logistically, it's more rare for me to want one with a specific person, especially if I choose to focus on my career first. I can't speak for other demisexuals, but that's what it's like for me."
Rachel is quiet for a moment, then says, "And are you afraid people will think it's weird, if you're never romantically connected to anyone?"
"Yeah," Gretchen nods, "And that leads to way more showmances than I'm willing to tolerate. It's fine to act like I'm in love onstage. Offstage, that gets too exhausting for me."
Rachel feels a bit of despair, "So what can I do? What should I do about all this? If I stay closeted any time I have a girlfriend, it'll be like you, and they'll think I'm weird for not dating…"
"Well," Gretchen starts slowly, "What I can do is point you in the direction of some people who won't care about that sort of thing."
Rachel eyes her curiously, "What do you mean?"
She studies her nails for a moment, as if suddenly shy. "I'm saying, my uncle is an agent here in the city. He is happy to work with discretion with anyone who is queer and doesn't want to be completely open, and happy to help any of his people come out. He can work around directors who would care about that sort of thing, and point you toward ones that don't. I'll be working with him, too, but I knew that for a long time. Negotiating with him how to deal with my sexuality is stressful because it's unfamiliar to him, but I know we'll work something out. I'd be happy to put in a good word for you."
"Really? You'd…do that?"
"Of course," Gretchen says easily, "I told you, you're very talented. Even if right now I'm having to help you find your way around this role, that's not because you're untalented, it's because you're still a freshman. You still have more to learn. But there's a lot of potential in you. Your voice is incredible. We just need to get your acting to that level." She shrugs, "Broadway is basically my family's business. I know potential when I see it."
"Wow. I…wow."
"Yeah. So, don't be ashamed. The culture is changing all the time around us. And I can find you someone who will defend you, even if you're not fully out to directors or anyone else. But at least you'll have an ally in the business. He's got connections in California, too. People who can help you keep your privacy, if that's what you want to do."
"That's incredible. Thank you, Gretchen."
"It's not problem. I have a good feeling about you."
"So…" Rachel asks quietly, "How secret do you think I should keep this?"
Gretchen shrugs, "It's up to you. I feel like NYADA is a safe place to be out. And I can get you a meeting with my uncle, he'll be able to advise you more about the Broadway crowd. Trust your gut, I guess is all I can say."
That makes sense, Rachel thinks. It told her to trust Gretchen, and it was right.
Gretchen smiles, seeming more comfortable and happy than Rachel has ever seen her before. "I know I'm going to see you out on the Broadway stage someday, and I'm hoping we'll get to work together out there. I know I'm graduating, but I'll be in touch. I'll always pass along advice, if you need it."
"Definitely!" Rachel agrees.
It's going to happen for her, she thinks. She met some of Jesse's connections the other night, and even if she's not sure she made the best impression (Jesse had been a little thrown off because she'd told him she was seeing Quinn, which had made them both a little awkward), she's on their radar. If she can swallow her discomfort, she might gain some connections through Shelby. Gretchen knows people who know people, Gretchen has found her a possible good agent.
It's going to happen for her.
.
In love I'm just an animal
.
He's been fielding emails from Mercedes for a few weeks now, as she searches for a new apartment for them. For her, Puck and him.
The decision to invite Puck to live with them had been a joint decision. As much as they love each other, Sam and Mercedes have different interests beyond music and God, so Sam was a little worried about coming there not knowing anyone. He had wanted Puck there because he needed a friend, especially—and he doesn't want to think about this—if things with Mercedes end up not working out if they start living together. And Puck, the guy who had talked a lot about California for the past year or so, seemed the perfect friend to invite along.
For Mercedes, it had been because she, too, wants Sam to have a friend there. But she had also wants someone there because she isn't quite ready for the idea of just her and Sam having a place together. She's more comfortable with the idea of roommates, one of whom was her boyfriend, than an arrangement where she lived solely with her boyfriend. Another roommate would help them be responsible, learn to live together. And help them keep their heads and remember how young they actually are, how they're not ready for anything too serious.
But, it's good. In general, Sam is really excited about moving there. When Mercedes came to visit him for Easter, they talked about what had happened with her and the guy who had tried to take things further than she was ready for. Sam had felt a little hurt and betrayed by it, but ultimately realized it hadn't happened on purpose, and didn't blame Mercedes. They had agreed to keep the relationship closed for a little bit longer, which made it a little less exciting, for sure, but safer.
And, he had elected not to touch Mercedes the way the guy had, because when it came down to it, she still wasn't ready, and her offer to let Sam touch her there had been an apology more than consent. The last thing Sam wants is to make her uncomfortable. Easter involved a lot of cuddling and kissing between them, but not much beyond that.
They're on videochat tonight, and Mercedes is showing him pictures of a place that seems really promising and that she thinks she's going to jump on. Sam and Puck have both already agreed to send her whatever money she needs for a deposit on an apartment, and she's pretty sure she's going to try and nail this one down tomorrow. Sam thinks it looks great. It's pretty simple and small, living room and kitchen connected, two bedrooms, one bathroom. It'll be small, but comfortable, he thinks. The bathroom at least separates the bedrooms, so there will be privacy. It has a driveway, too, which is good, because from what Sam understands, they'll need cars to really get around the city.
So he grins and gives his agreement, and, relieved, Mercedes settles back against the pillows on her bed and smiles at him, "I'm really excited about this. You're going to be with me so soon!"
"Me too," Sam grins. He looks at her, then, and thinks about it. "What's going to happen when I get there?"
She smirks seductively, "Well. First I'll probably kiss you, and run my fingers through your hair. Then I'll probably take your shirt off."
Sam smirks right back, "Hehe. Okay. But wait. Before we get to that?"
"Before that," Mercedes says, keeping the same sexy edge to her voice, "I'll pick you up at the airport."
Sam laughs this time, "Actually, Puck and I are probably driving."
"Oh, yeah. That could work too," Mercedes admits.
Sam gazes at her fondly, "But as much as I like thinking about what we might do when I get there, that's not what I'm asking."
"No?" Mercedes asks, frowning, "I mean, I'll have the house set up as best I can before you get there, if that's what you mean."
"No. I mean with us."
"Us?"
"Yeah," Sam is uncertain, "I mean, I know we closed our relationship. I guess I'm wondering if it's going to…stay closed."
Mercedes looks worried. "Well, I mean…I thought that was kind of the agreement. That this was a way for us to have fun and keep each other entertained while we were apart."
"And we'd just be us when we're together?"
"That's what I thought…is that what you thought?"
Sam thinks about it, "I think I did, but…I mean, I think the fact that we've probably closed the relationship until I get there, and that this means I may never get to hear about you with other guys again…I think I'm going to miss that. It was over so quickly, and I'm not sure I was ready for it to be."
Mercedes nods slowly, "I mean, for me…I think when you're there, I'm not going to want to see other guys so much. I was happy to have the opportunity to try things with other guys, learn from it, see what other guys are like, and it was so great because you were so into it. But…I'm not sure I'll want to, now."
Sam feels sick, and feels stupid for feeling that way. He mutters, "So we'll probably just be closed?"
"I don't know, Sam," Mercedes admits, "I just wasn't prepared for this possibility. I think, we should get you here, see how things go. If it's something you still want or need…I doubt I'll be able to deny you, when it gets you so worked up. But I want to try just us for a little while, okay?"
"Okay," Sam agrees. And maybe it'll be okay, with just them. Maybe it'll be easier. They can always talk about the guys she saw before. He can always play back those little tapes in his head. "I am definitely willing to try it."
"We'll keep communication open," Mercedes promises.
"Definitely," Sam agrees. "I don't want you to think that I'm not going to be so happy to be there with you. I will. I am."
"No, I understand," Mercedes smiles, "I am, too."
"I wish I could see you sooner."
"Me, too. I wish I could come escort you to Prom!"
Sam snorts, because now that Mercedes is out of high school, Prom seems almost silly. But still, it was her Junior Prom that was really the beginning of this relationship for them, so there's something special there. "Yeah. But it's okay. I think I'm taking Merry, from Glee, just so she can go. Not romantic," he laughs, "She's gay, so…"
Mercedes smiles a bit, "That's sweet of you."
He shrugs, "It just gives her a chance to hang out with her friends one more time before they graduate, and since everyone else is already taking someone…"
"I get it. Go, have fun. Take pictures for me. Maybe we'll chat afterwards," she wiggles her eyebrows.
"I would love that," he replies eagerly.
.
I'll never lose affection for people and things that went before
.
Prom is going to be awesome.
She's even more prepared with her campaign for Prom King this year. She was Homecoming King, and she's pretty sure she can be Prom King, too. There are really no other good contenders. And her class, as a whole, seems to think the whole thing is stupid.
That's how she's won most of her other elections, she knows. Apathy. People vote for her for things like Class President and Homecoming King because they think it will be funny. No other reason.
But that's fine. She hasn't done much as Class President, honestly, except passing a referendum that all the water fountains in the school should have names, and threatening Figgins—along with Blaine—to agree to keep Unique safe. She has also issued a public statement to the school newspaper telling everyone how idiotic is was to bully people, especially transpeople, and, like a weird collective of teenage sheep, most people agreed with her. Somehow, just by being herself, she'd changed minds. Popularity is weird like that.
And she got to choose this year's Prom theme. She had wanted to do gender bending, because she figured then she would be guaranteed to win Prom King, but the other kids on student council wore her down, and they finally agreed on Sailors from the Future. Which meant they could do awesome space decorations as well as pirate decorations. Brittany's outfit for Prom is based off a traditional sailor's uniform, but it's made of silver fabric with a metallic sheen, and she's wearing an eyepatch.
She's taking Matt.
That's the one part that's weird about all this. When she thought about Prom earlier in the year, she was sure Santana would be here with her, escorting her. But now, that is not to be.
They've texted, a little bit. Santana has told her she misses her, but that's about it. She's not really ready to talk more. Brittany hasn't mentioned Matt, of course, and she knows that taking him is a little public, so she tells everyone in Glee that they're just friends. Which is true, they are just friends, but they're friends who have been banging.
After the week of Matt's Spring Break, Brittany decided she enjoyed sex with him a lot. That was one reason she drove down to see him during her own Spring Break—just for a day, really, just so they could have a little bit of sex. She didn't want to distract him from school, she really just needed some sex. And it's that need—the need they both have for some easy, no string attached sex, that brings Matt up here to go to Prom with her, so they can have fun as friends, and end Prom night with the bang, the way it should end.
So. Matt is there, as her non-boyfriend, to be her date.
He's dressed normally for Prom, not in costume, so before they leave, Brittany convinces him to put on an aluminum foil pirate's hat. He just kind of laughs and does so, which is nice that he doesn't just dismiss her for being weird. He's like Santana that way.
Brittany drives them to Prom, and she's so excited and relieved when they enter the gym. They're early, because as Class President, it's part of her responsibility to make sure everything is ready to go before other students get there. So Matt happily blends in with the background for a little while as Brittany and the rest of the student council, along with some teacher chaperones, make sure everything is ready to go, and Matt is standing beside her when they open the gym to students at six o'clock.
She's mostly waiting for her friends to appear. She greets the cheerleaders that she knows, but the first of her friends she sees are Tina and Mike.
Mike sees Matt, and his eyes widen, and then the two old friends are hugging and laughing. Brittany looks at Tina and grins, and they go claim a table and get some punch.
Before long, Blaine shows up with Kurt, both dressed handsomely—no skirt for Kurt this year, Brittany notes with disappointment—and Sam arrives with Merry, looking awkward together, but Merry's face brightens when she sees Brittany. And last to arrive is Artie, with Annette pushing his wheelchair for him until they join the table. Brittany greets Annette uncertainly; she really only knows her from the play that just finished last weekend, and if she's honest, she thinks Annette was not that great as Stella. Still, A Streetcar Named Desire was fun to watch, though obviously, Brittany is a lot more excited for the musical that goes on in a few more weeks—just before Nationals, in fact.
Regardless, it's cool that everyone sort of has a date this year—even if Sam and Merry and she and Matt are here as friends. Kurt and Mike both seem really happy to be back for Prom, and Artie seems to glow every time he looks at Annette.
So they drink punch and laugh and eat snacks—moonpies, cupcakes shaped like flying saucers, cookies shaped like octopuses, astronaut ice cream; well, those are the things Brittany eats, anyway, she's sure there were other options. And when the music officially starts, with "Spaceman" by Bif Naked, the dancing happens almost immediately.
She dances with Matt, which is fun because he's a good dancer, he always was. But not just with Matt, and the same as he's fine to wander off and dance with others, he's not the least bit concerned about her doing the same thing. It's simultaneously great and sad. She loves dancing with a bunch of people, but a part of her wishes Santana were here to be possessive and to keep her by her side all evening. She misses feeling like someone wants her so badly.
Still, though, she and Matt come back to each other many times throughout the night, and he always gives her a smile. It feels more like Sophomore year, because the music is loud, so Matt doesn't try to talk much. He reminds her of the old Matt, Santana's Matt, briefly.
And someone certainly spiked the punch, which is pretty great. She eyes Artie, who dances with a somewhat overly accommodating Annette, and he flashes her a smile that she's sure is an admission of guilt. But it's fine. She's enjoying the spiked punch.
Honestly, the spiked punch gives her an idea. What else can she get away with?
She finds Matt on the dance floor and gracefully steals him from the girl he's dancing with. She leans forward and murmurs, "Remember where the janitor's closet near the gym is?"
He nods, eyebrows already arching.
"Meet me there by the time this song ends," and she dances away from him.
He joins her before too long. She glances at the clock. They don't have long.
"What do you want to—mmph," his question is halted by a kiss.
"I'm going to get you off before anyone notices we're gone."
"Ohh kaaay, woah, okay," Matt responds, as her fingers are already working on his belt.
She misses this, she realizes. She misses the clandestine meetings, the danger and the thrill. It hadn't been all that fun at the time, it had been a matter of necessity, but now that she's experienced such a long time in which she and Santana didn't have that kind of sex, well…she misses it. It's stupid. But it's also an idea she can't get out of her head: if Santana were here with her at this prom, she'd have her head between Brittany's legs in this closet right now.
But Matt isn't Santana. And as good a friend with benefits as he is, he doesn't try things like this. Still, he's cooperating. But Brittany hadn't expected him to turn down a blowjob.
When he's hard, she takes him into her mouth, beginning the act in earnest, using her fist and mouth. She loves doing this. He groans, and his gaze keeps bouncing to the clock and to the door next time him. Brittany understands. She's conscious of the time, too. He puts a palm gently on her head as Brittany moves it. She likes that about him, his gentleness, and his ability to know when to be gentle and when to be more rough. He is good at reading her.
And despite his anxiety about the time, she does manage to get him off before too much time has passed. She knew she could; she's good at all the oral sex, and she's proud of that fact. His little thrusts into her mouth are the telltale sign, and she lets him finish, swallows quickly. She glances at the clock. "We'd better get back out there."
"Wait," he touches her arm, "Don't I get to touch you?"
She gives him a quick kiss on the lips; she likes that he doesn't even flinch despite where her mouth just was, not like other guys. "Later. After Prom, we can do what you want."
He smiles, too drained by his orgasm to muster too much enthusiasm at her words (she's sure there are things he'll want to try, now). But he's young enough, she knows, that he'll be ready to go by the time Prom is over.
Wiping her mouth, feeling conspicuous, she gets out on the dance floor just before Principal Figgins begins to announce the winners of Prom King and Queen.
She hopes what she just did isn't too obvious when she goes up to accept the crown for Prom King. It had really been that easy. Be herself, and run, and the crown was hers.
Tina is Prom Queen.
At first, Tina seems to feel awkward, as if she isn't sure if it's okay to dance together. But Brittany pulls her toward her and murmurs, "Don't worry. We can be King and Queen for one dance."
Tina moves closer to Brittany as they begin to spin slowly. "I just feel awkward about us since, you know."
Brittany shrugs, "It was just making out. It's cool. We both know it doesn't need to happen again."
Tina nods, and Brittany sees Mike out in the crowd. His brow is knit a little but he is smiling. Matt is glowing, eyes glassy from his recent orgasm, his shirt half-untucked still.
Brittany wishes that she and Santana could have made this happen last year. She adores Tina, as a friend. She likes Matt a lot, too. But she doesn't love him.
She thinks, if circumstances were different, maybe she could love Matt (or even Tina, if she weren't straight). But they aren't different. They're far apart, she has no plans to go to WVU. She has plans to reconnect with Santana. And for her, that's all that matters. It really is that easy. No strings attached with Matt, because she won't let there even be possible strings that might get tangled and caught.
Sex isn't dating. She's always known that.
Except for that one time that it was.
But she and Santana have always had a way of breaking all the rules.
.
I could give you my apologies
.
This is kind of the Prom he's always dreamed of. He's finally taking a girl he really likes, who seems to really like him. He's spiked the punch bowl, in honor of Puck, without getting caught (probably because Coach Sylvester was not chaperoning, and no other teacher really seemed to care). And to top it off, Annette is taking him home, and there is the hint that they might end the evening in a…special way.
It's kind of a weird space to be in, going on a Prom date, because just like last week he was her director in the school play. And it had been a struggle because…he wanted so badly to take her to Prom, that he's sure he handled her with kid gloves. He needed her to like him, and he hadn't directed her all that well. Consequently, she was not the Stella he had hoped she'd be. It had become pretty clear early on that he had not cast her well. But it was fine. He let her believe she was pretty good, and tries not to think that it was possibly a bad idea to encourage her falsely.
His parents are likely to already be asleep. And he knows they can be discrete, and he knows that even if his parents overhear anything, they won't interrupt him. It's a weird unspoken agreement they have.
Annette pulls up to his house, and rushes over to get his wheelchair set for him to get into. He can get from the seat to the wheelchair, he knows. He just needs to be able to position the chair right, and get the right leverage out of Annette's unfamiliar seat, and might need some help from Annette, but it's hard to ask, especially since they're on a date.
"Here, let me help," she requests, reaching over. He reluctantly tells her what he needs, and gets into the chair without difficulty. She closes his door and begins to wheel him toward the front door.
He feels weird about it, about being pushed. Mostly he prefers to move himself, and Annette has seemed to want to push him around all evening. He hasn't quite known how to tell her it doesn't need to happen. He's sure she means it to feel caring, but he feels a little…helpless.
Closer to the door, she stops, and he pivots to face her. "I've had a really nice evening," he tells her, smiling and adjusting his glasses.
"Me, too," she grins back, "Going to Prom with you has been something I've kinda wanted for a long time."
"Really?" he asks, and swallows, taking the leap, "I've kinda had a crush on you for awhile."
She smiles, sadly, "I wish I'd picked up on it earlier. Maybe we could have had a fun Senior year together."
"Yeah," Artie nods, "But I mean, you know, we can enjoy what's left, see how it goes."
"I'd be happy to spend some time with you for the remainder of the school year," she agrees.
Artie's heart is thumping oddly, "Yeah? I'd love that. And if it goes well, you know, maybe you could be my girlfriend. Might be long distance after the summer, but…"
Annette's mouth twists, "Well…okay, I mean, I believe in being upfront, and honest. I know that…even if things go well, and we date all summer, when I go to college, I need to be single. Even if we'd been dating for years, once we go off to college, we'd be different people, and we'd need to be separate to grow." Artie frowns a little, and she says, "That's not to say that I don't want to date and hang out with you all summer! I really like you, Artie. But…you know, it wouldn't be serious. It'd be just for fun. Just something to do before we go off to college."
Artie nods, and tries not to think about how it might hurt if he goes for this. "Yeah, okay. That could be cool," he smiles.
"Cool," she grins.
There's an awkward moment of silence, and then Artie says, "So…"
Annette smirks. "So?"
"So, um," he starts, "Do you want to come in? I could, I don't know, make some coffee or something."
"I'd like that," she smiles, and he grins and turns to unlock the door. She pushes him inside through the threshold, and he tries not to feel emasculated by the fact that he isn't really ushering her inside.
He does actually go into the kitchen and make coffee, which he wasn't expecting to actually do. Annette sits at the table and watches. While the coffee brews, he slices up an apple for them to share, unable to figure out what else to offer. Besides, he wants something to do with his mouth, because he has no idea what to say, how to initiate what he wants to happen.
He sits across from Annette, and they eat the apple slowly, listening to the coffee pot hiss and steam and gurgle. But before it finishes, Annette asks quietly, "Aren't you going to ask me?"
"What?" Artie asks. He feels like he already did ask her what he wanted to know, namely, whether she'd be his girlfriend.
She shrugs, "I didn't think we'd literally be having coffee, you know. Any time you want to move to your bedroom is fine by me."
A rush of heat moves up and down Artie's spine. He drops the piece of apple he's holding. "Yeah, okay. Follow me." His voice is eager.
Annette chuckles and follows him down the hall and into his room. He turns to face her once they're inside, heart hammering. "I, um. Don't know what you're into, but…"
She crouches down in front of him. "I'm into you," she says, and leans forward to kiss him.
It feels like it's been forever since he's kissed someone, and he can't help the sharp intake of breath through his nose, the way his mouth seems to freeze for a moment. And then he's kissing back, and she makes a pleased sound in the back of her throat.
He wants to touch her. She hasn't quite touched him yet; her hands are on the arms of his wheelchair. He tentatively places hands on her shoulders, and she kneels to move her body closer to his, right up against his legs, he sees.
He kind of caresses her arms and shoulders for awhile, while they still kiss, pausing sometimes to catch their breath, smile, and then dive right back in. Finally, one hand slowly drifts down from her bare shoulder to trace the edge of her strapless dress against her chest. She makes an encouraging sort of moan, so he cups a breast over her dress. It feels like electricity in his palm, and before long his other hand joins the first, and he's palming both of her breasts gently.
He's so occupied that it takes him awhile to notice that her hands are currently caressing his legs. He only notices because of the way the fabric occasionally moves against his waist, where he has some sensation. He glances down and sees her hands, moving against his legs, and a part of him is repulsed. Why is she touching them? His scrawny, limp, useless…he pushes the revulsion out of his mind. It isn't often anymore that he hates his legs like this, but watching her touch them…
"My zipper," she murmurs, and Artie forgets entirely about where her hands are.
"Your…" he whispers.
"Zipper. Down my back." She looks up at him with dark, dark eyes, and, swallowing nervously, he reaches around behind her back, while she leans over into his lap, and this time, he doesn't think much about the fact that she's all over his legs, because he's thinking too much about how he's unzipping her dress and how her face is right next to his…
She leans back and stands up, the dress sliding off her body, revealing matching bra and panties. They're not too fancy, but Artie doesn't care. He's never been that obsessed with lingerie, mostly what was underneath it.
She kneels in front of him again, and they're kissing more, and now his hands are sliding inside her bra. He likes all breasts, honestly, but when he thinks about it, the appeal of Brittany's body was its athleticism, its lean muscles and the angles of her bones. Annette, by contrast, is curves, and Artie can't wait to cup all of them in his hands.
"Now your zipper," she murmurs, and for a moment, Artie is confused, because he's not wearing a dress. But then he sees her hands, sliding up his legs to his waist, and he understands.
She's slowly unbuckling and unzipping him, and he knows he's already half-hard, just from their activities and his thoughts. And he really can't wait for her to touch him. He certainly has sensation there. Whether it's the same as other guys, he can't really say, because the accident happened before he ever started masturbating, but he suspects his level of sensation is a little muted. But still, his junk works, and that's all that matters to him, really.
That and, well…"Wait," he murmurs, as she spreads open his fly wide and begins trying to draw him out.
"Hmm?" she asks, moving her hands back to stroke his legs.
"Can we…I don't want to be in my chair for this. Can we move to the bed?"
She pouts a little, "Oh, but…I've always had a fantasy of going down on a guy in a wheelchair," she murmurs seductively, eyes sparkling.
A part of Artie feels a rush of heat at her words, and he's about to just let her do exactly that, but then he thinks for a moment and then asks, "Why?"
She shrugs, and her eyes are lingering on the bulge of his boxers, "I don't know. I've just always thought wheelchairs were hot."
And again there's that feeling of conflicted arousal and…shame. "Wait," he says again, "You think wheelchairs are hot?"
For the first time, there's a flicker of doubt in her eyes. She blinks, once. "Well, yeah. I've always been attracted to differently-abled people. Very attracted to paraplegics."
"So you're…attracted to my disability?"
"Well, yes."
And in that moment, Artie feels horrified. He doesn't understand how she could be attracted to the thing about himself that he feels makes him unattractive. He's mostly made peace with it, sure, but he's not happy with it. And he's always anticipated that anyone who falls for him would fall for him in spite of his disability, not because of it.
"Okay, we need to take a step back."
"But why?" she asks, honestly puzzled, "I'm attracted to you, your whole self. I was drawn to you because of your chair, sure, but you're also sweet and smart and funny!"
"This is just too much for me," he says, "It's just. I don't think I can tonight, if all I'm doing is fulfilling a fantasy for you."
He can't believe he's about to turn down sex. But it just bothers him so much. And a part of him realizes, it's not that he wants to someone to be interested in him despite or because of his disability. He wants them to be interested in him in addition to his disability. He wants them to like him and also accept and love his disability. He doesn't want them to hate that part of him, or to love that part of him first and foremost.
Maybe if they could actually date and actually be a long-term option, Artie might be able to work through Annette's fetish for his disability. They might be able to talk about it, he might one day be able to accept that she loves him for him first. But for now?
He isn't willing to go through with this feeling like an object for her to project her fantasies onto.
He asks her to leave, before she can protest whether or not this is just a fantasy for her. She complies, apologizes, and asks if he'll call her.
He tells her he doesn't know.
.
If I was a deep bathtub would you sink down to the bottom of my love
.
It's kind of a really amazing Prom.
She almost doesn't have words, as she and Mike head home. She never dreamed she could possibly be Prom Queen. She had run on a whim, eager to attempt to make a point. She thought about the Prom Queen stereotype, the one that Quinn Fabray had so embodied, and then thought about Rachel winning. How that had given Rachel back her confidence, and, probably, girls like Rachel. Girls who were a little odd, a little different-looking.
She thought about how she hadn't had a lot of Asian female role models growing up, and ran for Prom Queen to try to give that to younger Asian girls at this extremely white suburban high school.
She really had never expected to win.
Mike glances at her and smiles. "You're still shocked," he observes.
"I am," she chuckles, "I never get any fame or recognition so I feel…"
"Good?" he offers.
"More than that. Like. Acknowledged."
He gives her a funny look. Maybe he always felt acknowledged, she thinks. Or maybe that sort of attention isn't so important to him. She doesn't know.
She loves him, but in moments like this, she wishes he'd say something.
"What are you thinking about?"
He smiles. "Just you. And how I'm so happy you had a great Prom, and that we get to spend some time together tonight."
She smiles. "Yeah. I've missed you."
"I'm so glad I was able to come down here for this."
She is, too. She knows it's not easy for him to get time away from school.
He takes her back to his house. His parents aren't waiting up; they're early risers, and it's kinda late. They leave their shoes by the front door and move quietly through the house, back to Mike's bedroom.
He opens the door for her, and when she walks in, she stops for a moment, because something is different.
It's extremely clean. Which, well, that's not actually too out of character. Unlike most teenage boys, Mike always tended to keep his room pretty clean and organized. But it's something else, too.
He wraps his arms around her from behind and kisses the top of her head. "Happy almost birthday," he whispers.
Her heart thuds. It is, indeed, about a week from her birthday, and they both already knew Mike wouldn't be able to come down the weekend closest to it. She's pleased and a little surprised that he thought to celebrate it tonight.
"Thank you," she whispers, tilting her head to catch his lips.
"I got you something," he says quietly. He closes the bedroom door, and behind the door, there's an object covered with a blanket. He removes the blanket with something of a flourish to reveal a large, long box, wrapped in simple brown wrapping paper.
Tina steps toward it. She's surprised, even though she shouldn't be. She crouches down and begins to carefully unwrap the present without tearing the paper, the way she was always taught. Mike stands in his suit and Spiderman socks and watches, smiling fondly.
When she parts the paper, she discovers that Mike has gotten her a keyboard. Like, a musical one. She looks up in shock.
He shrugs, "I know that, with going off to school, I mean, I know you haven't decided where you're going yet or what you'll be studying. But I figure you might miss playing the piano, and maybe it won't be easy to get into one of the piano practice rooms even if you do study music. So I figured you could take this and keep it in your dorm. It's not too big, and when I researched online, I discovered this is supposed to be a pretty good brand, so…" He trails off, searching her face for a reaction.
Her reaction is to hug him, hard. He holds her, as she struggles with the fact that this is a moment in which he wanted her to say something, and she's out of words.
But he understands all the same, and after some moments pass, he leads her to his bed. The comforter is very soft and cool against her skin, and Mike spoons her from behind while giddy emotions fill her.
And before too long, wordlessly, her reaching hands and the way she's tilting her head for deeper kisses says exactly what she wants, and Mike is gently sliding her dress up her body, and pulling her panties down, and his own pants and underpants are halfway down his thighs.
When he slowly enters her, still spooning in the same way, Tina struggles to control the sound that wants to escape her. Like a sigh, but deeper, louder. It's been so long since she felt this, both the physical sensation of him pushing inside and this level of connection to him. Tears spring to her eyes as she thinks about how hard it has been, to be away from him, and how little time they even really had to talk to each other. How some days, she half-forgot she even had a boyfriend.
Tina arches her back to give Mike a better angle, and he pushes in fully. She can feel his tight abs against her ass, can feel the way he's struggling to control his own breathing. He pulls out of her slowly, and then pushes his pants down past his knees and kicks one leg free. Tina take the opportunity to kick her panties off fully so she can part her legs a little more, and Mike presses himself along her body, and guides himself back inside her slowly.
They make love slowly, with Mike pressed flush against her back, his arm wrapped around her body, not really touching anything erogenous, just holding her to him. He kisses her shoulders, neck, her hair, while he moves slowly inside her.
She doesn't come, but Mike does, and after he relaxes and begins to move to touch her more, she stops his hands, and holds her to him. She listens to his soft breathing as they hold each other, and thinks, this is the happiest she's ever been, because he's here. He's present.
.
We could keep trying but things will never change
.
He won't admit it aloud, but coming back to McKinley to go to Prom is not nearly as magical as he'd thought it might be.
But he stays in the moment, for Blaine, during the entire dance. They get dinner beforehand, and that part is nice, as they catch up and give each other lingering looks over the table. Hardly anyone stares at them at Breadstix as they share a meal in their suits—even though Kurt's suit has a very feminine cut. He hums sympathetically when Blaine doesn't win Prom King—though Blaine is quick to recover and claims he never expected to win anyway, Kurt can see the disappointment in his eyes. Instead, they dance, they laugh with their friends, they eat. He can tell, by Blaine's expression, that he is having a great Prom, and that he's really glad Kurt is here.
Kurt is personally kind of proud of Brittany for managing to win Prom King. Even if it is essentially a cruel joke to some of the students, Brittany plays it completely…straight, for lack of a better word, and any malice washes right off of her. It's a vast improvement from the McKinley that voted him Prom Queen just to hurt him, and he's not sure how it has happened. Are people finally getting over themselves?
He supposes it doesn't matter too much. It's apparent that Blaine, Brittany and even Unique have felt pretty safe here this year, and if Kurt had to suffer for years to help make this possible for them, well, he won't begrudge anyone too much.
After the dance, they head back to Kurt's house, since it's a bit closer, and, since Carole won't be back from DC until tomorrow, it's emptier. Only Sam is likely to be there, and even he might be hanging out with some friends after Prom.
Still, they creep into the house. It's basically instinct, to move so quietly when the house is silent and dark. It feels like they're younger again. Well, like Kurt is a year younger, anyway, and still living under his dad's roof, and occasionally sneaking around. Not that it happened often, but…it did happen.
They head into Kurt's bedroom, and before the door is even closed, Blaine is kissing him. It's gentle, almost tentative, different from the semi-public pecks they'd exchanged outside of Breadstix and at Prom. It's full of purpose, full of potential.
It feels like he hasn't seen Blaine in forever, hasn't been kissed like this in so long. And it's true. It's been since New Year. He got in late last night, after working a mid-shift at the restaurant. Sam had picked him up at the airport. And then Kurt had spent all day essentially twiddling his thumbs, because Blaine had insisted that they not see each other until dinner, like they were getting married or something. He should have found it romantic, and in a way he did, but he was also frustrated. They hadn't seen each other in months, Blaine hadn't come up for Spring Break, why was he so keen to delay their reunion?
But, in spite of the fact that he feels too old for Prom, he won't deny that the whole situation felt quite romantic. He wishes he'd been in a state of mind to be more into the romantic setup Blaine had created.
His bedroom is fairly sparse these days. His old queen bed is still there, but much of his other furniture is gone. His closet is stuffed with old clothes, some of which, he thinks vaguely, he may be able to bring home for summer. He no longer has any kind of radio or iPod dock, or anything; heck, he didn't even bring his computer home with him because he expected to be engrossed in Blaine the entire trip. Blaine seems to notice this because he's fishing his phone out of his pocket and turns on a Pandora station. An old jazzy kind of station.
Blaine pulls Kurt to him and begins to…waltz, sort of. Kurt tips his head against Blaine's as they move and it is sweet, it is romantic, but…"Sweetie?" Kurt murmurs, "Don't you think we already danced enough this evening?"
Blaine is humming along to some Frank Sinatra song in his ear. He pulls away and smiles at Kurt, "If you say so," he shrugs, and leans in to kiss Kurt once more.
The sense of urgency returns in Kurt's chest, and he moves to begin unbuttoning Blaine's shirt. Blaine chuckles a little, and lets him untie his bowtie and take off his shirt. He stands, then, his hair slightly mussed, in his undershirt and slacks.
"You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen," Kurt murmurs.
Blaine actually blushes at the words, which just makes Kurt smile more, and Blaine reaches to begin to undress Kurt. Kurt lets him. He can trust him to be careful with his clothes.
When they're both down to socks and undergarments, Kurt abruptly frowns, "I like this. I like where this is going," he assures, "But…I don't want to get off to Frank Sinatra."
Blaine laughs, and some tension leaves Kurt's chest. He had been afraid of hurting his boyfriend's feelings. "What would you prefer?" Blaine asks, reaching for his phone, the little speaker struggling to fill the room with music.
Kurt doesn't really know, he just knows that Frank Sinatra doesn't fit. "I don't know. Something dancey."
Blaine quirks his eyebrows, "Is that…the mood you're in?"
Kurt knows it's more than a question about music. Blaine had been expecting an evening of romantic love-making, and, sure, Kurt likes that. He likes that idea, but…a part of him is craving something wilder. Something more raw.
He waves a hand dismissively. "I don't know. Maybe not dancey. Maybe power ballads or something. That might fit."
Blaine nods, and turns on a Whitney Houston station. Kurt is satisfied, and, as Blaine begins to remove his underpants while Whitney softly croons "I Will Always Love You," it feels like a good compromise.
And when they're naked, kissing, here comes the moment Kurt never quite knows how to handle. "What do you want to do?" Blaine asks, between kisses, as Whitney crescendos into a key change.
He wants to give his standard answer. He wants oral. But he already feels guilty. Everything that Blaine has tried to do to make this evening special, he hasn't responded well to, and he doesn't know why, because he's the romantic one. He wants to make Blaine happy. He wants them both to enjoy the evening.
Blaine has compromised so much this evening, that Kurt feels like it's his turn.
He looks away from Blaine eyes and murmurs, "I want…I want to give you something special."
Blaine stops moving for a moment. "Something…special?" he asks. He kisses Kurt's jaw.
Kurt swallows. He knows, even though he doesn't like to think about it or admit it, that Blaine wants to do something he doesn't much like. Blaine never says anything, and he's always happy to have sex when they do have it, but…Kurt can tell. Kurt can see in his eyes that he'd rather be fucking.
So he stands, and goes to rummage in his closet. He's sure it's in there. It's not as though he'd taken this shoebox with him to New York. And he eventually finds it. The shoebox with the condoms and lube. He holds them up uncertainly and watches as Blaine's face changes slowly to a little grin.
Kurt's heart hammers and he struggles to tamp down his anxiety. He moves back over to the bed to sit next to his boyfriend.
"How do you want to do this?" Blaine asks softly. He takes Kurt's hand gently.
Kurt laughs nervously. He knows which way it has to go. He can't stay hard when he tries to do this for Blaine. "You can…do me." He looks at him, very seriously. "Gently and slowly."
"Of course," Blaine promises, eyes abruptly sad. "Of course. I'll do it right this time."
Kurt nods. Maybe it will be okay this time, he tells himself. Neither of them knew what they were doing the first time, that's got to be why it hurt so much.
Blaine is absolutely taking his time with him, which is nice. Kurt's already starting to go soft due to nerves, and Blaine's amazing hands and mouth are on him now, and before too long, Kurt is filled with desire once again, hard, heart racing, nerves jangling.
His desire is mostly to put his mouth on his boyfriend, but Blaine just smiles and begins rolling the condom on. He is clearly eager to get started. Kurt reaches out and begins to stroke him, to help him stay in the moment, but before too long, Blaine is gently coaxing him to lie on his back.
The condom. Kurt still doesn't know how to feel about them. Soon after they first started trying sex, Blaine had insisted they use them. It had hurt Kurt at first. He felt like if they loved each other, they should be able to feel each other. Of course, that was before he realized that anal wasn't really his thing. But Blaine had insisted. He had pointed out that they'd never been tested, and that maybe by some fluke they'd contracted something and didn't even know it, despite both being virgins before each other, and that it was better to be safe that sorry. Kurt understood that, but a part of him couldn't help but be suspicious of Blaine, who felt they should be married before they stopped using them. He wanted that level of trust. Kurt just wanted love. He supposes it was a little naive of him, to think that loving each other could be a barrier to any diseases they didn't know they might have. But…he wanted to trust Blaine. He wanted to feel like Blaine trusted him.
Kurt parts his legs, feeling anxious and wanton all at once. There's a drizzle of cold lubricant that makes him gasp. He grasps himself, pumping slowly, trying to stay hot, trying to stay eager, trying to want this.
"Breathe," Blaine murmurs, stroking his thighs gently, and Kurt does. He takes deep breaths, and then he feels…something slowly circling, spreading moisture. It takes him a moment to realize it's the head of Blaine's cock.
And then, it's pressing gently into him. So gently, but Kurt doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to open, how to give way, and he feels panicked. Will Blaine force his way inside again, not even realizing that what he's doing hurts?
But Blaine retreats, circles again. His hand strokes Kurt's stomach softly. "It's okay," he says, "I'll be gentle. Trust me."
Kurt nods, and when Blaine presses again, Kurt struggles to relax, and it's not much, but…he feels himself open up to Blaine, just a little. Blaine stills. Kurt breathes. Blaine waits. Kurt forces himself to stay calm, and Blaine pushes a little more.
Bit by bit, Blaine pushes into him. It takes what feels like five whole minutes for the head of Blaine's cock to push into him, and remarkably, they're both staying hard. Kurt's kept his hand on himself, stroking, and Blaine's enthusiasm has kept him plenty aroused, despite the time it's taking.
After this, it's easier, a little. Blaine squirts some more lube on himself and slowly eases in more. Kurt takes stock of his feelings. He doesn't…hate this. He mostly just feels kind of uncomfortably full, it mostly just feels like Blaine doesn't belong there. It just feels wrong, and he doesn't think it has anything to do with shame or internalized homophobia or anything. Even when he has watches porn, which admittedly he doesn't do often, it's oral. He really thinks that this…just doesn't do it for him. Anal isn't his preference.
But it's certainly Blaine's, and watching the flush on his boyfriend's cheeks, watching him breathe erratically as he pushes in slowly…that helps keep him in the moment. That helps him stay hard.
By the time Blaine is fully buried inside him, Kurt is pretty relaxed about the whole thing. Blaine has been constantly applying more lube through the whole process, so Kurt really isn't feeling pain. The stretching he's experiencing is a little uncomfortable, and as deep as Blaine is inside him makes him feel weird. But it's okay. He nods at Blaine.
Blaine pulls out slowly, applies more lube, and pushes back in.
It's slow going. Not because Kurt is so tight that Blaine can barely move, but because Blaine is holding back. He's being gentle. Kurt appreciates it. He doesn't want to be pounded. He doesn't want to be banged. Blaine obliges him, and Kurt tries to focus on his hand on his cock, tries to focus on the sensations there and ignore the weird feeling of Blaine moving inside him.
Kurt can't quite get there. But Blaine does. A few minutes of slow, shallow thrusts inside Kurt and Blaine is coming inside the condom. Kurt feels it mostly as the jerking of his hips, and then a full thrust deep inside him, as Blaine finishes coming. A few moments later, Blaine pulls out with a deep sigh. Kurt just closes his eyes. He doesn't want to look at what just was pulled out of him. He's always afraid it might be messy or disgusting.
He opens his eyes when Blaine kisses him. "Thank you," he murmurs, kissing Kurt again. Kurt nods awkwardly. Blaine wraps the tied-off condom in a tissue and tosses it in the trash—so that Carole won't have to see it, Kurt supposes. He then takes another few tissues to gently wipe the excess lube off of Kurt's cheeks. Afterwards, Blaine gazes at him with exhausted eyes, and then his eyes drop to Kurt's hand, wrapped around himself, still.
Blaine smiles, "Want my help?"
"God, yes," Kurt groans, and Blaine lowers his head to take Kurt into his mouth. Blaine is good at this. Before long, Kurt's heart is racing, and he's able to ignore the cool sensation of the lube drying on his cheeks that Blaine missed, the tender, too-moist sensations in his hole, the desire to go to the bathroom to take a shower after what just occurred…
Like usual, it doesn't take long before Blaine's mouth does something just right with the tongue or the suction or whatever that just makes Kurt explode. He almost can't hear his own moans when this happens, he feels like he's practically blacked out. When he opens his eyes, Blaine is sliding his cock out of his mouth. He swallows, wipes his mouth and grins. He tucks himself into bed beside Kurt and kisses him. Only a few minutes later, he's asleep.
Despite the flood of sleepiness that washes over him, Kurt creeps silently out of bed to go to the bathroom and take a quick shower. He scrubs his skin raw.
They just had good sex, sure. Blaine looked like he had the best orgasm he's had in a long time, and Kurt came amazingly hard, too.
But it frustrates him to know that this is only something he's willing to do on occasion. He wishes he could give this to Blaine, always.
But, as he scrubs his skin and gently soaps up his ass many times, he knows, he can't.
Additional A/N: Chapter titles from David Byrne and Fatboy Slim, "Here Lies Love (feat. Florence Welch)," Electric Guest, "American Daydream," The Beatles, "In My Life," Wolf Parade, "I'll Believe in Anything," Emily Jane White, "Dark Undercoat," and Robyn, "With Every Heartbeat (feat. Kleerup)."