AN: Here is me, blushing slightly, looking at the floor and scuffing the floorboards with my toe. I'm so ashamed. I let this story go for far too long. All I can say is sorry, and plead life. I'm sure you all know how it rears up every once in a while and gets in the way of the things we love.

"Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!"

Confused, Blaine pulled away, shifting up onto his knees. Kurt took the opportunity to shove at his shoulders hard with both hands, and Blaine tumbled backwards off the bed. His right shoulder hit the floor solidly, lancing pain through his chest. He shook it off and got to his feet, his eyes searching for Kurt, who was huddled in a ball against the headboard. He was panting raggedly and tears were trickling down his face. Blaine took in this sight, coupled with the livid red mark on Kurt's neck, the torn shirt and the trousers that were slipping off Kurt's behind, and was hit by the realization of what he'd been doing, what he'd done.

"Oh my god," he whispered, a wave of nausea passing through his gut. Kurt's head jerked up at the sound; he glared at Blaine through his tears, and bile flooded Blaine's mouth. He staggered over to his trashcan, just making it in time. He vomited in wave after wave, everything he'd eaten that day quickly expunged from his body, until he was heaving dryly into the can and sobbing in pain and mortification.

Several moments passed, and then he felt Kurt's hand come and rest gently in the middle of his back. He flew away from it, leaping across the room and pressing his back into the window. "Don't touch me! I'm so wrong! Everything about me is wrong! It's not enough that I'm a fucking whore, but now I'm a rapist too! What the fuck is wrong with me?" He gasped out the words, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to fend off the horror he felt.

"Blaine!" Kurt's voice cut through the babbling madness in his mind, sharp and severe. "Blaine! Look at me!" Blaine opened his eyes. Kurt was sitting on the edge of his bed, his clothing once more fastened, or as much as it could be, and his hands were rubbing anxiously against his knees. "You stopped," he said in a softer voice. "I asked you to stop, and you stopped. You didn't rape me, Blaine. You stopped."

"But if you hadn't…" Blaine said, the horror still creeping in his voice.

"I did. I asked you to stop. Why didn't you ask me to stop?"

Blaine was confused. "You weren't doing anything. It was all me, and I…"

"I don't mean now, Blaine. I mean this afternoon. Why didn't you ask me to stop?"

"You didn't do anything then either," said Blaine, though he could feel the lie in his voice. "It was me who did everything. How could I ask you to stop when I was the one fondling myself like a whore?"

"That's a lie, Blaine, and you know it. You didn't want it like that; you didn't want me to tell you what to do and ogle you while you did it. You didn't want it, so why didn't you stop me from doing it? If I'd known, I never would have." Kurt was looking at him sadly now.

Blaine slumped into the windowsill, taking the weight off his legs as he buried his face in his hands. "I…part of me did want it. I thought if I couldn't have all of you, I could at least have that little bit. The bit where you wanted to see me, even if it wasn't what I hoped for. I took what I could get, and what I deserved. You saw what I was, and you didn't love me, but you did offer me that. How could I possibly tell you to stop, especially as I know now that you never would have if I'd told you what I wanted?"

"Oh Blaine, there are so many things wrong with what you just said," sighed Kurt.

"I know. I'm always wrong," agreed Blaine sullenly.

"That's not what I meant. Not at all, Blaine. YOU are not wrong. You are wonderful and beautiful and amazing and, yes, a little bit crazy, but I love even that, Blaine, and I would have done whatever you wanted. If you'd just told me."

Blaine's head shot up from his hands. He gaped at Kurt, unable to speak, and Kurt continued, his eyes fixed on Blaine's. "It's not what you deserved. You don't deserve that; you never have and you never will. You deserved to be cherished and loved and admired and revered and respected. And you have all of that from me, Blaine, and I am so, so sorry that I didn't show you that today. I just…I thought I should act a certain way. I thought that was how you wanted me to act, and I was afraid to show you how blown away I was by it because I thought you would stop. You've stayed away from me for so long, and then there you were in my lap, showing me something that I never even imagined could be so beautiful, and I thought that if I touched you or kissed you or told you how beautiful you were, you would realize what you were doing. And you would stop. I didn't want that. I used you, Blaine, and I am so, so sorry."

"God, why are you apologizing to me, Kurt?" sobbed Blaine, waves of shame still thrilling through his body, making it almost impossible for him to grasp what Kurt was saying. He wanted it all to be true; he wanted it so badly, but now more than ever he was sure he didn't deserve even the smallest bit of Kurt's love. He took in Kurt's disheveled appearance once more, and shuddered, hating himself. "I don't even know who I am, Kurt," he continued mournfully. "For so long, I just let myself go. You wouldn't believe half the things I've done, but this…this is so much worse." He slipped from the windowsill and sat on the floor, his back to the wall and his face buried in his hands once more.

"I do know some of it," replied Kurt solemnly. "Maybe…could you tell me why you reacted that way, just now?"

Blaine stared at him, swallowing convulsively. "I… You were so possessive of me. You told them that I was yours, and I just…. I lost it; I've been shifting back and forth into this mode all day where I can't actually feel how much things are hurting, so I act on them instead. It's not quite the way I used to act, because that was a lot more carefree, but it's like there are two sides of me – the part that wants and the part that feels. But then you claimed me" – Blaine shivered and closed his eyes briefly – "and I… It was like those two parts came slamming together, and if I could show you that you were right, that I was yours, then maybe…maybe it would be enough, maybe it wouldn't hurt as much. But of course, I couldn't even do that right; I just assaulted you instead." Blaine's voice was bitter and small by the end of this little speech, and he was looking at the floor as if he wanted it to open up and swallow him.

Kurt just watched him in silence for a few moments, and then he said, "You are mine, Blaine, but only in so much as the reciprocal is true: that I'm yours."

Blaine slowly lifted his head and took in the sight of Kurt staring at him intensely and affectionately. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice lighter than before.

"It wasn't possessive, so much as protective, Blaine. I didn't want anyone else to hurt you; I didn't want you to hurt you, so I put myself in between you and the people who would hurt you, the people you would let hurt you." Kurt paused for a second and then laughed harshly. "I can't believe that Jeff and Nick would do that. I thought they at least cared about you. But they don't, so I had to make it clear that it wasn't going to happen. I wasn't claiming you; I wasn't saying that only I was allowed to use you, to hurt you: I was just telling them that there was someone protecting you from them."

"I don't think they were planning on hurting me," said Blaine flippantly, but inside he felt a swelling gratitude that Kurt cared enough to place himself between him and the world.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Right, Blaine, because being used for sex has obviously had such a good effect on your mental health."

Blaine snorted, and then nodded his head. "Yeah, it's the greatest," he replied with soft sarcasm.

"And that brings us full circle," said Kurt, feeling slightly triumphant and like maybe, perhaps, possibly he was finally getting through to Blaine. "You stopped doing that for a reason, Blaine. You need to tell me about that; Wes made that very clear. And then you need to tell me exactly why you cried this afternoon. I obviously have my own ideas, but I need to hear it from you."

Blaine nodded slowly, trying to swallow back the sudden terror that gripped his throat. "You. I stopped because of you," he said softly. "It's so hard to put my finger on it, but you seem to occupy your own space. You are so intrinsically yourself: you don't let your experiences warp you; you don't try to adapt to your environment; you walk through the world, completely unique, completely yourself, completely beautiful and full of some strange knowledge that lets you do that, and I have no idea where it comes from or how you do it, but I saw it right away. On anyone else it would seem like arrogance or aloofness, but on you it's so…warm. So beautiful. And I wanted that for myself. I thought I knew who I was, but meeting you shattered that notion. It made me realize that I'd been living other peoples' expectations of me."

Blaine paused, looking at Kurt to see what he made of all this. Kurt just gazed back at him and then made a gentle 'go on' gesture with his right hand.

Blaine's mouth twisted slightly into a grimace, and then he continued, "Being gay. Everyone around me, all the people who put me down and beat me up and called me names, but also the people who supposedly supported me – they all thought it was about sex. Just about sex. And I believed that. I believed it so hard that I made myself into that, and stupidly thought that I was actually expressing myself, finally showing the world who I really was. Then you came along, and you expressed yourself so effortlessly, and it wasn't about sex at all."

Kurt snorted slightly, and Blaine felt a sudden stab of hurt and confusion that Kurt would dismiss what he was saying. He trained his eyes on a particularly defined line in the grain of the floorboards and said sullenly, "What?"

"Oh, don't sulk, Blaine. You just told me I was sexless; it's not exactly flattering," said Kurt wryly. "Look at me, Blaine."

Blaine complied, raising his eyes to Kurt, who continued, "Do you really believe that? It makes me sound like some kind of ethereal angel of gayness, totally unapproachable, totally flawless, and that's just ridiculous. Not to mention a little disheartening. I may not have done anything sexual before today, Blaine, but that doesn't mean that sex isn't a part of me, or important to me…or something I hope to do more of, particularly with you. But if you see me like that, if you see us like that – I'm the Virgin and you're the Whore – then we're seriously fucked."

Blaine gaped at him, partly for putting it in terms he knew made his whole vision of Kurt fall apart, and partly for his rare use of profanity. "No…I mean…I guess…," he stuttered, and then he breathed deeply, trying to center himself and gather the threads of this conversation back into himself. "There's two ways I saw you," he said finally. "And yes, one way was as…perfection. But I also saw that you weren't perfect, that you could be bitchy, sometimes even mean, and also that you were unsure of yourself at times, and sometimes sexy, though I always thought it was…unintentional. I admired you right away. I thought to myself, 'This is what I want, both to be and to have.' But you're right; I thought you were unapproachable. At first. But then I began to fall in love with you, and I thought that you might love me back, and it seemed like that was the way. Like it was a conduit between the two ways I saw you, and that eventually I would be comfortable enough in that love that I could…" Blaine paused here, because there was really no elevated way to say this: "Um…make a move?" He peered into Kurt's eyes, trying to see what he made of that. Kurt just stared at him blankly for a few moments, and then smiled widely.

"Love, huh?" said Kurt lightly. Blaine nodded, and they just looked at each other for a few moments. Then Kurt's smile dipped, turning into a frown. "So today…" he prompted.

"Today," sighed Blaine, raising one hand to his eyes and rubbing them tiredly. "Today, I felt like that conduit was shattered, like there wasn't any love, and it was all just about sex again, and I just…."

"It was," said Kurt. "About love, I mean. But it was also about sex."

Blaine just looked at him, slightly confused. Kurt sighed, and said, "They're not separate for me, Blaine, and I don't really want them to be separate for you either. I know I should have said something today, but I was scared that I would mess things up. I didn't really understand that not saying anything would be worse. But I think…" Kurt paused here, and took a deep steadying breath, as if to gather courage. "If it had been me doing that…" Kurt blushed, pursed his lips, shook his head and corrected himself: "If I were jerking off in your lap, how would you feel?"

Blaine blinked at him, and then shuddered, his mind conjuring up vivid images of Kurt half-naked and flushed, laid out before his eyes. "I'd feel blessed. And terrified. And in awe. And so very, very lucky," he said hoarsely.

"And love? Would you feel that?" asked Kurt softly.

"Yes."

"What would you have done differently? To show me that?"

Blaine stared at Kurt, perched on the bed five feet away from him. Kurt just stared back, his head tilted slightly to one side. Blaine licked his dry lips and said, "I'd have looked into your eyes, and…I would have kissed you."

Kurt sighed. "So simple," he said ruefully. "I'm an idiot, Blaine. I was too scared to do the things I should have done, too unsure of myself. I can't take it back; all I can do is assure you that I do love you, and that I loved what you did, and that you were beautiful. And…"

"And?"

Kurt seemed to straighten his already immaculate posture just a bit. He folded his hands in his lap to keep them from nervously running over his thighs, took a steadying breath, and replied, "I could offer you a reprise of sorts."

"A reprise?" asked Blaine in a stunned and almost helplessly confused voice.

"With variations," said Kurt somewhat primly, trying to control his voice. "So you can…show me."

"Show you?" Blaine's voice cracked. He flushed, suddenly realizing what Kurt was suggesting. The flush traveled through his entire body instantly, wiping his mind almost blank. He watched helplessly as Kurt stood up from the bed and walked over to where he sat on the floor. Kurt stood over him for a few seconds before asking in a halting voice, "Can I put my head in your lap, Blaine?"

Blaine's mind kicked into gear once more, and began racing, dragging him forward into images of what might be happening, could be happening, very soon. Kurt removing his clothes, touching himself, staring up at Blaine, straining towards him, their lips touching – and then his mind shuttered and stopped. "Uh, Kurt?" he said in a tentative voice. "I think you're forgetting something."

"What's that?" said Kurt worriedly, still looking down at him.

Blaine blushed and mumbled, "I kinda need to brush my teeth."

Kurt's face went blank, and then he snorted. "Yeah. Ew. Gross," he conceded.

"Five minutes?" asked Blaine as he leapt to his feet.

"Yeah, sure. Five minutes," said Kurt, running his hand through his hair in agitation and watching as Blaine ran out the door towards the bathroom down the hall. He felt a surge of fear pass through him, and he wondered if maybe Blaine was just using this as an excuse to avoid a frightening situation. He also wondered if he'd be able to get through the next five minutes without giving into his own fears and insecurities. He wrapped his arms tightly around his torso and began pacing the length of Blaine's room.

AN2: So anticlimactic. Sorry about that. The question is, should I make life easy on our beloved boys, or should I throw something else into the mix?