A/N: I wrote the author's note and published the last chapter of this story before or just after the attempted assassination of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords in Tucson. Although no one has said anything to me personally, I have actually begun to question whether or not this story should be continued in the direction I have it going. And in the end, I decided that me writing this story, dealing very heavily in attempted assassinations of (albeit fictional) public government officials, is showing no disrespect to any of the men and women currently serving our country in political office. This chapter is dedicated to all of those affected by the shootings. I hope that you all keep the victims in your thoughts and, if you are so inclined, your prayers.

I also need to apologize for the collosal delay on this chapter's arrival. I have been VERY busy, as I am now back at my university. Classes are difficult - I do a lot of academic writing and reading now, and when I'm not doing that, I'm relaxing on Tumblr or at musical practice (I am playing the Witch in my uni's production of Into the Woods). I hope you all will understand and accomodate me in the coming weeks, as they will be getting very, very hectic.

I need to give my quintessential shout out to him, UchidaKarasu, my lovely beta. You rock!

Chapter Warnings: This chapter has what the last one lacked: steamy porn for you to love. Side note: I told all of my tumblr followers who read this fic to turn on Coldplay's "Amsterdam" while they read the steamy love scene. I listened to it on repeat while I wrote it, and I really think it helped me be more koala tea than usual.

"Just twenty minutes ago, the inauguration of President Blaine Dalton was effectively shut down and disbanded by his attempted assassination."

Blaine hardly bats an eyelash at the reporter's words. If today is any indication, then he guesses he has to get used to hearing the word assassination.

"You don't need to see this," Kurt murmurs behind him.

He shakes his head. "Yes. I do."

"Anthony Azimio was arrested at the scene. Though police aren't releasing many details, they are under the impression that another unidentified shooter was also involved," she says. Behind her, he can see the remains of the crowd in front of the east-front balcony. He swallows hard, wondering if anyone else was hurt.

"Blaine," Kurt whispers, but Blaine waves him away.

The reporter is speaking again, and Blaine hopes to hear something else about the other people. "Though no official statement has been made, President Dalton, Vice President Jones, and Former President Sylvester were seen fleeing the east front balcony unscathed. More –"

The television abruptly shuts off, and when he turns, Blaine sees it's Kurt holding the remote. There's something about his agent's twisted expression that concerns him. "Puck," he begins, his eyes never leaving Kurt's face, "could you go check to see if the press room is ready? And check on the details about Mercedes, Rachel, and the Hummels, if you get a moment."

He doesn't need to glance back to know that Puck has already left the room. Without taking his eyes off Kurt, Blaine steps back slowly to the door, flipping the lock shut before turning to face Kurt completely. He crosses his arms, watching, although Kurt isn't looking at him; he's staring broodingly out the window. When he doesn't say anything, Blaine approaches him slowly, reaching out to rest his hand on the back of his shoulder. To his surprise, Kurt shies away, crossing his arms tighter across his body. "Kurt… what's the matter?"

At first, he doesn't answer. Blaine opens his mouth to ask another question and reaches out to touch Kurt again, but stops short because to his surprise, Kurt speaks. "I thought you were going to die," he murmurs, not looking away from the window. "I saw where the bullet hit, and… and if that podium had been further up, or further back, or if you hadn't been standing so close to it, or if you had moved you would have gotten shot."

"But I wasn't," Blaine replies slowly, eyebrows dipping down as he stares, perplexed, at Kurt.

"But you could have been," the taller male says darkly, the underlying tone of fury undeniable in his voice.

"But I wasn't."

At that, Kurt whirls on him, arms still crossed tightly over his chest, expression furious. "But you could have been!" he nearly shrieks. "Don't you understand how that made me feel? To see that happen? To see everyone running and screaming, and you…" He laughs hysterically. "You were just standing there! What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking," Blaine says calmly. He finally reaches out and places his hands against Kurt's shoulders. The agent ducks his head and closes his eyes, but he doesn't step away this time. He takes this as a good sign and steps closer, Kurt's folded arms the only things separating their bodies. "What's really wrong here, Kurt?"

He doesn't hesitate to answer. "I wasn't thinking, either. I saw it happen, and I just stood there like an idiot." He looks up finally, blue eyes moist, but not like he's going to cry – more like he's just full of emotion. "But then you ducked a little and you were looking around, but you didn't look scared –"

"What?" Blaine asks, confused for real this time. "I don't remember any of that."

Kurt raises an eyebrow and takes a tentative step forward, slowly lowering his folded arms. "It's true. You didn't run away, but you ducked a little and looked around, and you looked really worried and concerned… and then when I grabbed you the first thing you asked me about was Rachel."

He does remember that last bit. "So… you're upset because you… didn't react?"

Looking away again, Kurt shrugs. "It… it all happened so fast, and when I thought you'd been shot because you didn't move or react at first, I…" He chokes a little, squeezing his eyes shut and biting his bottom lip.

"Hey." Blaine tilts Kurt's face towards his, and the agent reluctantly opens his watery eyes to look at him. "Don't beat yourself up about it, okay? This wasn't something anyone expected, least of all me." He shakes his head and pulls Kurt into his arms, embracing him tightly. "We've just got to be more careful next time. More prepared."

Blaine feels Kurt grip the back of his jacket with both hands, fisting the fabric and straining the blazer against his shoulders. He presses his lips gently to the agent's pale neck, eyes fluttering closed as he inhales deeply, just trying to savor this moment. "I'm really sorry, Blaine," Kurt whispers softly, resting his chin on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine just squeezes him tighter.

"It's okay," he says, pulling away from their hug to look at Kurt. He lifts his head off Blaine's shoulder and stares back for a few moments before their faces tilt toward one another, their lips gently brushing. Blaine's hands slide lower and come to rest on Kurt's hips, though they don't go much further than that. There's too much stress out there for them to want anything more than this.

"Mr. President, what were your initial reactions after you were safely inside the Capitol Building?

Blaine is back in the television room with Kurt at his side later that day. Puck and Rachel are sitting, reunited. She's tucked safely under his arm, and his hand is settled protectively on her belly. Despite the fact her lover has returned, she's staring anxiously at the television, still shaken from the violence earlier that afternoon.

He watches himself answer with, "I'd say fear was a rational, knee-jerk reaction." In hindsight, he's not sure if that was the best response, but why should he have to lie? He's just as human as the rest of the people that were there. "But in all honesty, I was calm. I knew what I had to do. I knew that Vice President Jones, my advisor Miss Berry, and the honored guests were all safe in the Senate Chamber. It was just a matter of ensuring the safety of the American people."

"You handled yourself well," Rachel says quietly. Blaine just shrugs.

"Mr. President, two people were shot in the crossfire, countless more injured in the rush to get out, and two people were killed – one died from his gunshot wound, and another was trampled to death by the crowd," a reporter says, standing as he speaks. On the television, Blaine's face twists into an expression of remorse. In real life, his eyes narrow and he crosses his arms tightly. "Tell me, how is that 'ensuring the safety of the American people'?"

"You sound as if I predicted something as tragic as this would happen."

"That's not what I was implying at all," the reporter says shortly. "You just seemed to be saying that running was ensuring our safety."

Another reporter, a woman, stood up then and faced the male. "Excuse me, but I think you should have a little more respect. President Dalton has just been elected and you are slandering his name within four hours of his inauguration." She turns to face Blaine this time. "Mr. President, do you have any idea as to what's being done in regards to the mysterious second shooter?"

Blaine actually has no real idea. Puck had come over before the conference and told him the bare minimum. In other words, the police were still questioning witnesses and trying to find some kind of lead. He watches himself relay that information to the reporter, then add, "What's important is that justice will be served to at least one of the culprits here today. I'm sorry, but that's all for now. I really must get going." The reporters all leap to their feet, suddenly exploding with more questions, but Kurt whisks him quickly out of the room.

The program ends.

The news comes on and begins to relay the story of his attempted assassination, but Kurt is quick to shut the television off. Blaine turns back to the others in the room, leaning against the table. "What now?"

Rachel shrugs before reluctantly pulling herself away from Puck, opening her bag and rifling through her agenda. "Well, tomorrow you have a few meetings to go to, standard stuff… it's pretty slow going. No one really wants you to leave the city."

He sighs and rubs his forehead. "All right, then. Everybody get going. I'm heading back to the Oval Office to finish up some work. I hear that there are still quite a few balls going on."

"I might hit one up," Kurt says suddenly. They all give him a funny look. "I mean, since I'll be done here in a half hour… I might go to one for something to do." He shrugs nonchalantly, and while Rachel still looks confused, Blaine just smiles.

"Go. It sounds like it'd be fun."

By the time the day winds down, Blaine has ended up in the Oval Office, answering e-mails and filling out paperwork. He's been left alone for quite a while, though he knows that there are a few agents lurking just outside his door. When he glances at his cell phone sitting on his desk, he can see that it's almost midnight; he should really ditch the work and head to bed.

Just outside the door, he can hear quiet voices. The door of his office slowly opens as Kurt steps inside, arms crossed loosely over his chest, almost as if he's hugging himself; he's dressed in a sleek, simple black tuxedo. Blaine takes off his glasses and sets them on the desk. "Hey, are you all right? I thought you went to one of the balls."

Kurt doesn't answer. He just walks around Blaine's desk and moves to sit in the President's lap. He's quick to push away from the desk so his agent can sinuously fold himself into the chair, curling against Blaine's chest and resting his head against his shoulder. "What's the matter?" he whispers, resting his cheek against the top of Kurt's head. "You're not still upset about earlier, are you?" Listlessly, the brunet shrugs, his eyes fluttering closed. Idly, Blaine's fingers trail up and down Kurt's back while his free hand rests on the taller man's knee. "Talk to me, please?"

"I just needed to be with you," Kurt answers after a moment or two. "I know you're busy, but I just needed to be with you."

Blaine lifts his head and looks down at the male in his lap. "This is about today." It isn't a question.

Once more, Kurt shrugs.

The President hugs him a little tighter and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. "That's all over now," he whispers. "Chin up."

"Stop trying to make me feel better," Kurt demands, eyes still closed, though Blaine can see the makings of a smile on his lips.

"Get up." Blaine sits up and begins to push Kurt off his lap. The agent is reluctant and altogether unwilling, but he has no choice but to stand when he's almost knocked onto the floor as Blaine gets to his feet. He links their hands together and pulls Kurt close to his body, resting his hand on the agent's lower back as they begin to move slowly in circles, their cheeks touching as they dance. He can feel Kurt smiling, and it makes him smile, too.

And then, Blaine starts humming.

It's no specific tune; sometimes, it sounds like a slower version of Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream". At other moments, it sounds like "You Are Loved" by Josh Groban. Regardless of the song, Kurt is smiling as he and Blaine slow dance near the desk, until suddenly, they stop. Blaine leans back and stops humming, looking puzzled. "Something wrong?"

Kurt shakes his head. "No," he says softly. "No, I'm fine. Come on, you're done for today. Even you need to rest, Superman."

The President just smiles at the nickname and shuts off his computer, flipping the file on his desk closed and getting to his feet. Kurt whistles, which makes Blaine give him a quizzical look. "What?"

The agent looks him over. "I just thought I'd have to drag you kicking and screaming to your bedroom," he says simply.

"I have a bit more dignity than that," Blaine replies with a sly smile.

They head out of the room together, walking in a quiet, comfortable silence down the hall. Kurt still seems to be troubled by what had happened, so when it's obvious that no one is going to be rounding the corner anytime soon, Blaine takes Kurt's hand and gives it a squeeze, holding it all the way to his room.

Neither of them say anything for a moment or two, before Kurt bites his lip and gives a little shrug. "I… guess I ought to get going home now. Plenty of agents lurking around to protect you and –"

He's suddenly silenced with a kiss, Blaine's lips moving insistently against the agent's. Kurt is eager to respond, wrapping his arms around the shorter man's neck. They just stand there, kissing, until Blaine pulls away and smiles. He heads into to his new bedroom and pulls Kurt inside, the door falling shut quietly behind them.

The lights are off, but the moonlight is streaming in through the windows. Kurt eagerly pulls Blaine against him and kisses him again, though there's a little bit of space between their bodies this time. That allows for the President to slide his hands against the lapels of his agent's blazer, flicking the jacket buttons open and pushing it down over his shoulders, allowing the expensive garment to fall onto the floor.

Underneath it, Kurt is wearing a pair of suspenders, and for some reason that just turns Blaine on. He grabs hold of them and smiles against the other man's mouth. His own blazer is unbuttoned by his protector's sinuous fingers and unfortunately, he has to let go of Kurt's suspenders to get it off.

The undressing part of the whole process is very slow and sensual. Blaine's hands long to touch every inch of Kurt, and his lips long to trail after them, but he makes sure to take his time while his fingers undo the bowtie and begin to unbutton his agent's dress shirt. Kurt looks on almost apprehensively – or maybe eagerly. At this point, Blaine can't really tell the difference. Truth be told, he can't tell if he himself is eager or apprehensive, either.

Slowly, he slides off Kurt's suspenders, and then the agent is shrugging off his dress shirt, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the ground on top of his designer jacket. Blaine slides his hands down Kurt's chest, captivated by how strong the younger male looks. Yes, Blaine knows that Kurt is powerful, that Kurt is a specially trained agent in hand-to-hand combat, but he's still amazed, like he forgets about all those things when he's dressed in his high-fashion outfits. Every part of him is made of firm, lean muscle, and Blaine finds himself pressing his fingertips to his agent's chest, dragging them down slowly, amazed when the muscles resist the pressure, like a rock.

He feels Kurt's breath against his face, and he looks up, surprised. The brunet's eyes are closed, lips parted slightly as his lashes flutter, and he trembles a little. Blaine takes hold of him by the belt and pulls him closer, Kurt's bare chest pressed against him. Unfortunately for Blaine, he's still fully clothed.

The agent is quick to rectify this as his trembling fingers fumble with the knot in the President's tie. Blaine laughs a little, eventually reaching up to deftly remove the knot before draping the tie around Kurt's neck. The agent laughs a little, though he gulps a little as he begins to work at the buttons of Blaine's shirt. He stops only when Blaine takes hold of his wrists.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asks.

Kurt laughs, though it sounds a little hollow. "You keep asking me that," he chides, but soon after, he shrugs, eyes dropping so that he's now looking at Blaine's shirt, rather than the President himself. "Call me selfish, and call me crazy, or horny, or whatever…" He lifts his gaze slowly. "…but I thought you were going to die and I'd never get to know what you feel like."

Surely, Blaine should be offended, because coming from anyone else, the statement is absolutely crass, implying that Kurt wanted Blaine for sex and nothing more. But coming from the brunet standing in front of him, Blaine knows that Kurt is just being sincere, and that this moment is so much more than just a hook-up – the two of them are just too afraid to put a label on whatever they have and come out with it to the public.

"Hey," he murmurs at last, gently taking Kurt's face into his hands. His thumbs stroke idly against those flushed cheeks. "Hey, stop saying that. I'm not going to die."

"You don't know that," Kurt responds softly, lips pressing together firmly.

"I don't," Blaine concedes after a few moments of silence. "But I'm optimistic. Why can't you just live in the moment?"

At that, the agent's lips twist, as if he's going to say something important but he's holding himself back. Then, to Blaine's surprise, he's pulled forward by his shirt, and Kurt is working at the buttons with renewed vigor. Their mouths press together, open and begging for more, and Blaine is miraculously shirtless somewhere in the heat of it all.

He's working at Kurt's belt, grinning against the agent's mouth when he's able to slide it through its loops and toss it onto the floor among the growing pile of clothes. Kurt is quick to do the same, and a few moments later, they're climbing onto the bed. Blaine collapses back against the pillows, and he pulls Kurt down on top of him, pressing his lips gently to his agent's jaw.

"You're really warm," Kurt says with a little giggle, and Blaine smiles against his neck. Things have gone from a boil to a simmer in just a few short minutes, and in all honesty, he can't say he doesn't enjoy the feeling. His hands slide around to rest against Kurt's lower back before traveling lower to rest on the agent's buttocks. He bites down on Kurt's neck gently, and at the same time, he gives that supple ass a firm, hard squeeze.

To his surprise, Kurt moans and arches closer to Blaine, and the President finds himself grinding up against the brunet's hips. He rolls over so Kurt is pinned underneath him, and he sits up a little so he can unbutton those neatly pressed slacks, tugging them down over those narrow hips. They, too, end up on the floor. God, he's so close to exposing the younger man completely, and judging from the bulge in his underwear, Kurt's ready and willing. Shyly, the agent bites his bottom lip and folds one arm under his head, his free hand resting against his stomach, and Blaine can't help but think that he looks like someone out of some high-end fashion magazine.

"You," he whispers, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Kurt's stomach, trailing his lips upward as he continues, "are so fucking beautiful." He's level with the agent's mouth again, and he moves to give him a kiss, but he's stopped by a firm hand pressing against his chest.

The expression on Kurt's face confuses him, and at first, Blaine thinks that he's said something wrong. But then their lips are pressed together and Kurt is speaking against them, low and quick. "Say fuck again."

"What?"

He digs his fingers into Blaine's shoulders, and the President has to resist the urge to let his eyes roll back into his head so he can focus on what Kurt is saying to him. "Say fuck again."

…Oh. Oh. A grin slowly spreads over his face as he drags his lips across Kurt's and over the younger man's cheek, eventually nibbling gently on his earlobe. Finally, he breathes slowly, "God, you make me so fucking hot…"

Kurt whimpers and rocks his hips up, wanting more. Blaine chuckles and groans out another quiet, "Fuck," before he sits back again, unbuttoning his own pants and wiggling out of them, though it's a little difficult since he's still half-laying on Kurt. Soon enough, he kicks them off and presses himself close to Kurt, knowing he's just as hard as the man underneath him.

All that's separating them now is their underwear. Kurt twines their hands together, and Blaine gives a warm, tentative smile that the agent is all too eager to return. Blaine presses his lips against the other man's, his tongue gently slicking out against Kurt's bottom lip. The brunet quickly lets his own tongue slide out and gently touch the President's, and while they're kissing, Blaine's hand slides down against the firm muscles of Kurt's body until his fingers are dipping past the waistband of his underwear.

Kurt gasps softly as Blaine begins to stroke him, pulling away from the kiss. His eyes flutter shut, head tilting back as he wraps an arm around Blaine, fingers digging into the President's shoulder while his other hand fists against the comforter of the bed. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, eyebrows turning down to create a crease in the middle of his forehead, soft whimpers escaping from Kurt's throat. Blaine finds the whole image incredibly erotic, and he wants Kurt bad.

He stops stroking the younger man as his wrist begins to tire and begins to pull his underwear down, and Kurt eagerly lifts his hips to oblige him. Before he can even toss them away, the agent has his hands on Blaine's own pair of briefs, and he's yanking them down clumsily. Oddly, it makes Blaine chuckle; usually, Kurt is so careful, so precise, so well put-together, but now… Now he's fumbling with the elastic of a pair of underwear.

They're laying there together, naked, bodies perfectly aligned. Blaine knows that Kurt can feel his erection pressing against his leg, and he sure as hell can feel Kurt's, but right now, that doesn't matter. "What's so funny?" Kurt asks shyly.

"Nothing," Blaine assures him, brushing his brown hair away from his forehead before beginning to trail kisses down Kurt's neck. He pauses at his collarbone, sucking and biting until there's a little bruise left behind. He grins a little at every little sound Kurt is making, sliding down so that he's hovering over the agent's hardened erection.

"What are you doing?" Kurt whispers, confused, raising his head off his pillows.

"Returning a long-overdue favor," he answers, resting one hand on Kurt's hip as he takes the younger man into his mouth. As he lets his tongue trail over the head, his other hand slides up the length of the brunet's body, his fingertips gently brushing Kurt's bottom lip. He moans, realizing what Blaine wants, and dips his head to suck on those fingers while Blaine continues to suck him off.

When Blaine feels that his fingers are sufficiently wet enough, he retracts his arm and urges Kurt's hips up with his other hand. The agent complies, and Blaine eagerly presses a finger to his protector's hole. Kurt bucks up against his mouth, and Blaine pulls away as the finger slides in, watching as Kurt's eyes flutter closed. His head falls back, cheeks flushed with color, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he moans, louder than before. Blaine is quick to add another finger, scissoring the two that are already inside. He can feel his fingers getting dry again, so he presses Kurt's legs further apart, urging his hips up so that he dip his head down, his tongue pushing past his supple cheeks to join the ministrations of his fingers.

"Blaine," Kurt gasps out. "Stop. Stop stop stop, please –"

Blaine pulls away completely, withdrawing his fingers. The agent shivers at the loss, slowly opening his eyes to look at the President. Swallowing thickly, he says, "I'm sorry, you… you had to stop or I was gonna –"

He silenced Kurt with a kiss, pulling him closer to his body.

"I want you," Kurt breathes as they break away, and Blaine just gives a little smile in return. Kurt willingly spreads his legs a little more, wiggling his hips a little as Blaine guides himself toward the brunet's entrance with one hand. He's no locker slick, which is a problem, seeing as Blaine didn't get to stretch him out that much.

"Hold on," Blaine whispers, rolling off him and opening the drawer of the bedside table. He rummages around for a little bit, Kurt whimpering behind him, until he unearths a little bottle of lubrication. He takes that as well as a condom from the drawer, tearing the foil away with his teeth and rolling the rubber onto his hardened sex. He lubes himself up after that, coating his fingers as well and rubbing Kurt's hole, earning a shudder and a loud groan.

Kurt doesn't once tell him to stop as the President presses inside. Kurt's fingernails dig painfully into Blaine's shoulders, but he loves the feeling – it takes his mind off of how mind-blowingly tight Kurt is.

"Go," Kurt urges, dragging his nails down Blaine's back. The President exhales sharply, needing no more encouragement than that, and begins to rock his hips back and forth. He can feel Kurt adjust around him as he begins to move, and the look of Kurt's face is almost bittersweet – like he's in pain but he likes it and just wants more. And oddly, Blaine is more than happy to oblige.

Kurt begins to move in time with Blaine, opening his eyes and lurching upwards to smash their lips together. Blaine wraps his arms around him, holding him close, picking up speed. His tongue slides out against the agent's bottom lip while one of his hands slides between their bodies to wrap around the base of Kurt's hardened sex, beginning to stroke languidly – a stark contrast to how quickly Blaine's pushing in, pulling out, repeat harder, faster.

"No, stop," Kurt begs, trying to push Blaine's hand away, but Blaine just keeps stroking him. He moans, loudly, and he arches forward against Blaine. Kurt's hands are groping against Blaine's dark curls, fingers weaving into the tresses and holding on for dear life.

He's not going to last much longer; that's all he can think about as their tongues battle for dominance, sliding over one another. Kurt tastes like champagne and some kind of spice, probably from the hors d'oeuvres he ate at the party he had gone to. It turns Blaine on even more than he already is.

He angles his hips a little better, holding Kurt close and moving more purposefully now. Fortunately, he has adjusted himself just perfectly – and by the look on Kurt's face, he knows that he has hit the younger man's prostate this time.

It doesn't take long, after that. The thrusting, the stroking, the making out – Kurt comes hard into Blaine's hand, splattering against his stomach. Seeing him come is enough to push Blaine over the edge himself, and he thrusts a little faster until he is coming, too. He moans, loudly, holding Kurt close, the come rubbing against their skin as he arches into Kurt, their stomachs pressing together.

Blaine holds him for a few more moments before they fall back against the mattress together. He pulls himself out with a wince, rolling over so he's laying on his side, staring at the man beside him. Kurt is gazing at the ceiling, his wide blue eyes glistening in the dim light, chest rising and falling with every deep breath he took.

"Kurt –" he begins, but the agent rolls over onto his side and stares at him.

Blaine stops cold at the look on Kurt's face. Their eyes lock, and nothing has to be said. Kurt is so beautiful in that moment – eyes wide, lips parted, face flushed, hair a mess – that he can hardly stand it. Blaine grins a little, reaching out to let his finger stroke down Kurt's cheek. He slides a little closer, their noses brushing, though they don't go any further than that.

Kurt just smiles, twining his hand with the President's. Blaine's amazed, how they can go from horny and fucking – or making love? – to just laying here, hands clasped, staring. Just staring, like they'd never be able to get enough.