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Title: Five Times Blaine was Kurt's First and One Time They Were Each Others'
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,555
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. Written for this prompt at [ profile] glee_kink_meme, the gist of which boiled down to: "The chronicling of Kurt's and Blaine's sexual relationship as it grows."
Notes: I...I don't even know. I defy anyone to watch "Teenage Dream" and not ship these two. DEFY.


The first time they kiss, Kurt is inadvertently standing under the mistletoe that has descended over the halls of Dalton along with other holiday trappings. He didn't mean to, honestly, but he'd been waiting for Blaine and Wes so they could walk to fifth period together, and it had seemed like a perfectly good stretch of wall to lean against while he waited.

Then Blaine approaches, smirking at him in a way that is far too common for Kurt's taste, and tilts his head down to Kurt's.

For a moment, Kurt's eyes go wide, unsure of what is happening—they don't do this, they've always said they hated the idea that two gay guys couldn't just be friends—and then Blaine's mouth fits over his, brief and soft.

When he pulls back, he's already pointing upwards, as if to answer Kurt's unspoken question, and then waves to Wes at the other end of the hall.

"Come on," Blaine says, "we're gonna be late for class," as if that were all that needed to be said, as if they didn't need to talk about it, as if Blaine kissing him in the school hallway before fifth period was perfectly sensible and, indeed, un-noteworthy.

Then his hand slides into Kurt's, twining their fingers together as Blaine tugs him along the hall, and Kurt can't stop the smile that rushes over his face.


The first time Kurt sees Blaine naked-on-purpose, as opposed to the extremely brief glimpse he caught one day after gym, it kind of blows his mind. He'd thought about other men naked before, had been using the idea as masturbation fodder for years. But in all that time, it never really occurred to him what the sight of a real, live, honest-to-God naked man would do to him, and even less what the sight of said naked man who he was not only allowed to drink in, but in fact, encouraged to do so would do.

The sheer force of every teenage hormone he has gushing through him is almost staggering and for half a second, he wants to throw himself at Blaine, to touch and kiss and taste and fuck, until his brain finally manages to re-assert itself and remind him that he and Blaine are taking things slow, and even if they weren't, he's not ready yet.

"Wow," he breathes instead, because it's been at least two minutes since Blaine's underwear fell to the floor, and he's started to look nervous.

"Kurt," Blaine says gently, "it's your turn now, if you're ready."

Kurt's fingers are trembling when he hooks them in the waistband of his underwear, every fear he's ever had about sex and intimacy bubbling up to the surface. This is huge, he thinks, and he's scared about what it means, about growing up, about stupid things like if Blaine will like the look of his cock. But he wants, and he deserves, and it's enough to make him push his underwear down past his hips, letting it slide down the curve of his ass before he drops them in the front, too.

Then it's his turn to be uncomfortable, to stand there on display as Blaine takes him in. His breath hitches when Blaine's eyes land on his groin and he feels his dick soften just a little in fear. Then Blaine is grinning, and the world is wonderful, because Kurt is standing there naked with his boyfriend and said boyfriend is smiling.

"Gorgeous," Blaine murmurs. "You really are, Kurt. Is it all right if I touch you?"

It seems to come out in one breath, in one gush of thought and air. And Kurt nods, just a little, because he's not ready for everything yet, but fuck, he is so ready for this.

Blaine cups his cheek first, tilting Kurt's mouth up into a kiss, and his free hand rubs at Kurt's shoulder. His dick is hard against his own belly, and Kurt feels it for the very first time skin-on-skin when he leans just a fraction too far into the kiss and their bodies come into contact.

Blaine groans, low in his throat, and says, "The bed. We should—we should be on the bed."

Kurt's eyes widen, but before he can protest, Blaine shakes his head. "Not for that. It's just…it's nice to have another body against you when you come."

And hey, nice is good, and nice is especially good when the body in question is Blaine's, so Kurt follows him to the bed and then they're touching everywhere, and fuck, it feels incredible.

Their hips fit together better than Kurt thought two boys' hips could, and his cock grows harder in the friction against Blaine's thigh. He gasps, and tries to cover his mouth to hide the noise, mostly out of habit, but Blaine gently pries his hand away and shakes his head.

"No, it's okay," he says. "There's no one home. I want to hear you, Kurt. I bet you sound amazing."

Kurt doesn't really think so—thinks he sounds like an undignified fish, actually—but Blaine seems so sure, so convinced that Kurt's moans will be beautiful, that he allows himself to let go, and to just feel, and to stop holding his throat closed quite so tight, to let every gasp and groan escape.

And Blaine. Fuck, Blaine. He's got noises of his own, and they're incredible, and they're because of Kurt, and every ounce of helplessness he's ever felt drains out of his body, because this makes him feel empowered, not just over Blaine's pleasure, but perhaps for the first time in his life, over himself.

"Come for me," Blaine whispers against his ear. "I want to see you before I do. Don't want to miss it."

And Kurt is so close already, just from the friction of their bodies slip-sliding against each other, that all it takes is a few quick strokes of his own hand and then he's coming, groaning and making a truly ridiculous mess, and he can feel Blaine's hand brushing up against his as Blaine works himself, too.

"You now," Kurt gasps out, head spinning and world finally starting to make sense. "Your turn."

It takes a minute or two, but then Blaine's face scrunches up far too adorably (re: hotly) for Kurt to take. His own orgasm face probably isn't that attractive, but Blaine doesn't seem to care.

He's intensely aware that it's the first time he's ever come with another person, the first time he's ever touched someone's semen outside of his own. Everything, even the sound of Blaine breathing, seems more intense, and Kurt has no idea how something as simple as rubbing up against his naked boyfriend can make the world feel so utterly different, but it has, and it still does, and it feels like coming out of the closet all over again, only better.

Then Blaine is kissing him, and everything is sticky and messy and for once, Kurt doesn't care.


It would figure that Blaine is a big supporter of Valentine's Day. After all, the very first time they met, Blaine was singing straight to him about it. It just never occurred to Kurt that Valentine's Day for the two of them would be just as public as the fact that they were dating. It seemed different, somehow, to hold hands in public than to actually engage in overt romantic gestures, too.

So he expects that maybe, at most, he'll get a card and a small but tasteful gift later on, when it's the two of them alone in Kurt's bedroom before his father and Carol come home from work. He doesn't expect that when a florist arrives with several bouquets of flowers to pass out to the blushing but pleased girls in his chemistry class, the last, single rose is for him. He blushes, too, and ignores the looks from most of the boys and one or two of the flowerless girls. There's a tiny card attached to the stem, and he doesn't need to turn it over to know who sent the gift.

Except he hadn't really planned on any kind of gift in return, because they hadn't talked about it and Kurt had never liked Valentine's Day—okay, for obvious reasons—so he flounders, trying to think of something he can do for Blaine in return to show his appreciation.

And he continues thinking about it all day, panicking right up until the moment when Blaine shuts the door to Kurt's bedroom behind him, and then it seems like the most obvious thing in the world.

"You want to what?" Blaine asks once Kurt has managed to say it out loud. "Kurt, you've never—"

"First time for everything, right?" Kurt asks with false bravado. He has no idea how to suck cock. Porn can't teach a guy everything.

"Is this about the flower? Because I didn't—I wasn't expecting anything, Kurt. It wasn't like, 'All right, I'll send my boyfriend a flower and man, I am going to get laid.' I just wanted to do something nice for you. I thought one instead of a whole bouquet was a nice compromise. I like romance as much as the next guy, but sending an entire living bouquet to a geometry class has always seemed a bit…"

"Showy," Kurt supplies. "Obnoxious."

"Yeah," Blaine says, with a hint of a laugh. "Look, the point is…I did it for you, not to get something back."

"Okay," Kurt acknowledges. "It was sweet. But now I want to do something for you."

"Kurt, really, I don't want you to be guilted into this. I mean…yeah, I want. Who wouldn't? I'm a guy. But—"

Kurt shuts him up with a kiss. "Just—just take your pants off, Blaine."

Taking Blaine into his mouth for the first time is, to date, the scariest moment of Kurt's life. His brain is working a hundred miles an hour, reminding him of everything he'd read online about teeth and suction and how to use his tongue. And other things, too, like the fact that he's never had part of another person inside his body before, or that no one has ever trusted him this much or he them, or the fact that he might be bad at it and Blaine has probably had so much better.

But Blaine's fingers are gentle as they brush the hair back out of Kurt's eyes, and his soft murmurs are encouraging, and the advice that he offers Kurt manages to come across as helpful instead of patronizing. Kurt is maybe, definitely, on his way to being in love with this man. He is also choking a little, so he inwardly admits Blaine is right about him not being ready to take it all yet and backs off.

A few minutes pass, during which Kurt's jaw gets spectacularly sore and he realizes that he doesn't mind the ache, not when Blaine is moaning, and gasping, and panting out that Kurt better stop soon because he's getting close, so clearly Kurt isn't too bad at this.

He pulls back a little, using his hand to finish Blaine off. He'll work up to the rest, because he wants it, but everything is new and scary and wonderful right now and he doesn't want to screw it all up by choking to death on his boyfriend's come.

He feels giddy with it, watching Blaine fall apart, and incredibly turned on, too, and there is a mess all over his floor, but Kurt can buy an attractive throw to put over the stain later, because Blaine launches himself at Kurt, kissing him as they both fall to the floor, Kurt flat on his back.

"My turn," Blaine says, grinning, and Kurt's fingers clutch uselessly at the floor as Blaine proceeds to give him a good old-fashioned lesson in showmanship.


Kurt kind of thought the first time he told Blaine he was in love with him, it would be something romantic. They'd be on a blanket under the stars, or holding hands while they walked down the beach, or at the very least, they'd be finishing up a kiss and as their lips parted, Kurt would whisper the words out in a breathy little sigh.

He did not, however, expect it to happen while Blaine's tongue was buried as far as it could go inside his ass.

He'd seen it in porn, sure, lots of times, and he'd been kind of intrigued by the idea, if a little reluctant to try it on someone else for an entire myriad of reasons, but he kind of figured that rimming was much like a unicorn: popular in fantasy, but nothing he would ever find in his reality.

And then Blaine had been going down on him, and it had been wonderful, and Kurt was falling the fuck apart, and he'd whined when Blaine's gorgeously hot mouth had left his cock. Only then it was on his balls, and that was nice, and then a little lower, on that patch of skin just behind them, and that was good, too, and then there it had gone, right up against him, and his breath had hitched and his world had started spinning.

"Blaine—" he gasps. "Blaine, you don't have to—"

"I want to," Blaine whispers against his thigh. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

Yeah. Yeah, it feels really good, and extremely weird, and somehow more intimate than anything else they've found they can do to each other's bodies. But Kurt is rendered vaguely speechless by the way Blaine's tongue flicks against him and he can't stop the frantic way his hips start rocking down to meet him.

"Blaine—fuck, Blaine—"

"Relax," Blaine murmurs. "It's fine."

"Fuck. Fucking—fuck." Kurt usually considers himself to be somewhat eloquent, but this was too fucking much.

And then Blaine's tongue actually breaches him, actually slips past the tight ring of muscle and slides inside, and that's when Kurt loses it.

"Fuck!" he shouts, so loud that if anyone were home, it would be a parents-walking-in-on-you story for the ages. "Fuck, Blaine—you're so—God, that feels—Oh, fuck, I fucking love you, fuck."

His stomach turns over then, because not only did he just actually say that, but he did it at the worst moment ever, and Blaine is still fucking Kurt with his tongue, and how the fuck has this become his life?

And then Blaine looks up at him, eyes dark and mouth red and swollen, and grins at him like the sunrise.

"I love you, too," he answers, like it was obvious and Kurt needn't have asked, and sucks one finger into his mouth—which is how Kurt manages to get his head around what he thought this might be like and back into the present where he has a gorgeous, naked man between his thighs.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Blaine asks once he's gotten the finger wet. "Because we can, if you want."

"No," Kurt says quickly. "No, I'm good. It's nice."

Blaine laughs. "Mhm. Have you ever done this to yourself?" He indicates the shiny wet finger, as though Kurt needs any kind of clarification.

"Yeah," Kurt admits. "A few times."

"Just your fingers? Anything bigger?"

Kurt flushes. "Well, I do have access to a credit card, you know," he huffs, then admits, "but it isn't much bigger than my fingers, anyway."

"You've been holding out on me," Blaine says, impressed. "I like it. So do you mind if I—"

"Mind?" Kurt asks, incredulous, because really, Blaine needs to ask that question?

"I don't want to push you—"

Kurt shakes his head and grips Blaine's hand by the wrist, guiding it back down to his hole. "It's okay," he says sincerely. "It's—it's really good. Better than I thought it would be."

Blaine grins again, always seems to be grinning around Kurt, and then slips his finger inside.

Kurt lets out an involuntary gasp and rocks down against the finger, only stilling his hips when Blaine's tongue makes its triumphant return, licking and sucking around where his finger is breaching Kurt.

Kurt tries not to beg, really, it's undignified, but he's so hard and Blaine keeps batting his hand away every time Kurt tries to touch his straining erection.

"Relax," Blaine murmurs. "just wait 'til I get another finger or two in you. It's insane, Kurt. Coming when you're so full of another person."

He says it so wistfully that Kurt's dick twitches its approval, because Kurt had planned on having a talk with Blaine about that before they got there, about how just because people called him queeny and he liked fashion, it didn't mean he was going to be stuck in one role all the time, and they were going to switch it up and enjoy each other rather than sticking to one thing all the time. It was an important talk and Kurt had been working up the nerve to discuss it for weeks. But given the tone of Blaine's voice just then, Kurt realizes he doesn't need to. Blaine seems to know—even want—that already.

And yes, it's so hard not to touch himself, not to come hard and fast while Blaine works him over with fingers and lips and tongue, but then there are three fingers, stretching him impossibly wide, and Blaine is rubbing against his prostate and licking around his hole, and something in Kurt goes unbelievably taut and then snaps.

It's like no other orgasm Kurt has ever had before, and yeah, part of that is because he's never had anyone inside him when he came, but part of it is just pure physicality: he's never come from his prostate before, only ever from his cock. And fuck, this one hits him like a tidal wave, sending him thrashing on the bed, cock twitching uselessly in the air as come spurts out of him over and over again. He can hear Blaine gasping, making hushed little noises of awe, and he feels so unspeakably shameless for letting go this much with another person.

But it's Blaine. Who he loves. Who loves him back. And who doesn't care that one of the most important things either of them will ever say to another person happened at a time like this. So maybe it's all right to be shameless with him.


Kurt was never really sure if he wanted his first time to be special or horrible. There are pros and cons to either option, really, because if it's special, then of course it's wonderful, and he'll be happy, but what if nothing else ever lives up to it? What if ten years from now, he's having an afternoon quickie and wondering why it's so bland and unromantic and there is no mood music or lighting? Of course, if it's horrible, then the next time (and the next and the next and the next…Kurt plans on having a lot of sex in his life) has nothing to live up to, so each time can be judged on its own merits. No lifetime of disappointment. Then again, Kurt doesn't want any of his times to be disappointing—first, last or in between.

Which is why when he and Blaine are in bed together, touching and tasting and kissing, even though there isn't any music playing or candles lit around the room, it just somehow feels right, and he doesn't question it, because maybe this is a good middle ground.

"Blaine—" he gasps, and arches up into it when Blaine's hand curls around him. "Blaine, I—I want."

"Mmm," Blaine hums in his ear. "And what do you want exactly? My hand? My mouth? My—"

"I want to have sex," Kurt blurts out before he can over-analyze it. "Now."

Blaine blinks. "We are, Kurt. With the nakedness and the touching and—"

"No, I mean—" Helpless to put words to it, because anal sex does not sound right coming out of his mouth—and God knows he has practiced it in the mirror enough times to know—he just gives up and rubs his hand over Blaine's ass pointedly.

"Oh," Blaine says, eyes widening just a little. "Kurt, you know we don't have to, right? We—"

"You say that every time," Kurt points out. "And I appreciate it that you don't want to push me. But I really want this with you."

"Okay. But…I mean, lots of guys never do that, you know? Don't like it. Or some only do it every once in awhile. Or—"

"I know," Kurt answers back firmly. "This is real life, not porn. I know. It seems like kind of a hassle to do on a daily basis, anyway. But I do want to do it sometimes, and one of those times is now, and I'm ready, I promise. Please? Can we just—" He stops. "Wait. Are you not ready? Is that it? Because—"

Blaine chuckles. "Kurt, did you even see my face when I was singing to you the first day we met? I was ready to tear your clothes off in the senior commons, but it seemed kind of uncivilized, not to mention presumptuous."

Kurt blushes. "A little."

"I just…I had a boyfriend who was older once, who had more experience than me, and I always felt like I had to keep up to impress him, like I had to always be ready to try new things and push myself even if I wasn't actually ready, because he was used to more experienced guys. And I don't know, I've always been afraid that maybe you were doing the same thing with me."

Kurt shakes his head. "How could I when you always hold back on me?"

Blaine gives him a wry smile. "There's a reason for that, you know. And I'm serious. Some guys never do this. Blowjobs are really great, Kurt. So are hands and even just rubbing up against each other. We don't have to do this ever if you don't really, really want to."

Kurt bites his lip, searching for words to explain his side. Finally, he just says, "Blowjobs are great. And hands and everything else you said. But none of them have the benefit of being inside you, Blaine. Or you being inside me. Whichever. I want that with you. I want—fuck, I'm not good at explaining this stuff. I just—I want to be inside you and feel you and be…"

He trails off, uncertain, and goes back to biting his lip.

"Connected," Blaine supplies helpfully, and Kurt nods.

"Yeah. Intense."

Blaine cups the back of Kurt's head and tilts him up into a kiss. "All right," he says after a moment. "All right. But—but you fuck me this time, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt answers easily, nervously, terrified. "Why?"

"Because I will seriously come before I even get inside you, just thinking about it, just feeling you around me, and it will suck a ridiculous amount. So fuck me first, and after I come, and we relax, maybe after, I'll be able to hold off long enough to make it good for you."

"I—" Kurt starts, then shakes his head and kisses Blaine again. "All right," he repeats. "But what makes you think I'll be able to last once I'm inside you?"

Blaine shrugs. "You might not," he acquiesces, "but believe me when I say that you've got a better shot than I do."

Kurt doubts that, because he doubts anyone on the planet could want another person more than he wants Blaine right now, but he's happy to go with it—at least until he has three lube-slicked fingers inside his boyfriend and Blaine is gasping, "Fuck me, Kurt—ah, fuck me."

And then, as Blaine is helping him roll on the condom because his fingers are shaking too damn much to do it on his own, Kurt realizes that he has no clue how to actually fuck someone. Granted, he hasn't known how to do any of the things he and Blaine have done together, at least not at first, but this feels somehow bigger, like he should make this special and good even though it's his first time, not Blaine's.

"Blaine, I—"

"It's okay," Blaine whispers. "I'll help you. Don't I always?"

Kurt nods, and shifts his hips forward just a little, hating how awkward his arms and legs suddenly feel. They're in the way and angled wrong and his hands are tight around Blaine's thighs to hold him up at just the right angle.

"Kurt, I promise, it's mostly just instinct. Technique comes later, just—just be inside me now, all right?"

And oh, fuck, he's so tight, so unbelievably vice-like, and Kurt has to stop, has to take a few minutes to get used to the feel of him—and to let Blaine get used to him, too, he's sure—before he can continue forward, can keep pushing until his hips are snug against Blaine's. His mouth fell open in a silent moan ages ago and now it's still hanging there, jaw agape as he stares down at Blaine and tries to reconcile his entire life with the fact that he's inside someone for the very first time.

"I—holy shit," Kurt manages, not caring if it's crass, not caring that there were perhaps far more beautiful and eloquent words that could've came out of his mouth at a time like this.

"I—Christ," Blaine mutters, and scrubs a hand over his face before clenching all ten fingers tight in the sheets. "You have no idea, Kurt," he says, and his voice sounds unbelievably strangled. "I feel like I'm about to come already."

"But I haven't done anything yet," Kurt protests, without really sounding offended at all.

"It's—it's the idea," Blaine answers, then, "No, it's not. I mean, yeah, but—fuck, I can feel your fucking heartbeat inside me."

"You can feel that?"

Blaine nods. "Please, you gotta—fuck, Kurt, you gotta move. Fuck me."

"Doesn't it hurt? Don't you need a minute?"

"It does," Blaine agrees. "Like hell. Like—like I'm being split open." Which, really, does not help Kurt's nerves for later on tonight when he'll be the one on his back. "But," Blaine continues, "It's—it's good, too? Above the pain. And—and its you and you're looking at me like I'm some kind of God, so it's kind of worth it?"

"Don't believe in God," Kurt answers, but moves his hips just a little anyway, a tiny experiment that makes Blaine hiss.

"It's okay," he promises. "I'll stop you if it hurts too much."

Kurt tries to go slow and careful, but he's a teenaged boy for pity's sake. There is only so much restraint he can be reasonably expected to have at a time like this, and as soon as Blaine's gasps turn breathy and delighted, he gives up all pretense and just lets his hips move with abandon, no rhythm, no technique, just delicious friction and heat right where he wants it.

Blaine comes, though Kurt's not sure what led up to it because everything is a blur of movement, but he feels it when Blaine loses it, feels him spasming around Kurt's cock and rocking back against him helplessly. And then Kurt loses it, too, was only barely clinging to it, anyway, and sags against Blaine until his boyfriend gently pries Kurt off of him, wincing when Kurt's cock leaves his body.

"You all right?" Blaine asks, which is hilarious because he has to be sore.

Kurt's mouth finds Blaine's anyway, and he kisses him until the heaving in his chest gets the better of him.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks when they part.

Blaine shrugs. "A little. It's been a long time since I tried that. And even then—"

"Right. Incomplete."

Blaine nods. "It feels really good, Kurt. I promise that it does. And I wouldn't have let you hurt me. Just like I won't let me hurt you."

Which reminds Kurt that they are both teenage boys, and this is going to happen soon, and he can't quite stop the sharp intake of breath that slips out.

"If you still want to," Blaine amends, and Kurt can't quite find the words to answer that, so he lets his legs fall open, a silent invitation, and Blaine shifts closer to let them bracket him on either side.

Blaine's fingers inside him, his tongue stretching Kurt open, these are things Kurt has gotten more or less comfortable with over time. So four of Blaine's fingers inside him, scissoring him open, and his tongue licking wet and hot around them, is extremely exciting, but nothing new. It's only when they're gone, when he's finally hard again and Blaine is, too, that his stomach starts twisting into knots while Blaine fumbles with the condom.

"I'm going to make this so good for you, Kurt," he promises with confidence he obviously doesn't feel, giving the way his hands are shaking. "Gonna make this feel so fucking amazing."

"O—okay," Kurt replies, and lifts his knees to let Blaine settle against him.

"You ready?" Blaine asks, and Kurt's terrified, "Yes," is hardly reassuring for either of them.

But then it's happening, Blaine is pushing past his defenses and sliding inside him, and Kurt wants to scream and tear things and maybe even cry, because it hurts so fucking much and it's all concentrated on that one tiny spot.

He gasps out, "Stop," and Blaine does, instantly.

"Do you want me to get out?" he asks. "Or just give you time?"

"Time," Kurt says, because no way is he going back now, and even though it takes forever before he says, "Okay, you can try again," Blaine manages to look concerned for Kurt the entire time, instead of bored or annoyed—which is what Kurt is pretty sure is passing over his own facial features.

Moving hurts, too, but he's a little more used to it now, and the stinging has settled down into a dull, throbbing ache. At least he can concentrate on something other than the pain now, like the full feeling of Blaine inside him, or the way Blaine's hands slide over his skin, or the soft noises mingling between them as they kiss. This, he thinks, is what he wanted but couldn't explain earlier.

"You feel so good," Blaine tells him. "You have no idea, Kurt. If I hadn't just come twenty minutes ago, I'd have lost it before I was even all the way inside you."

"That mean I'm in for a ride?" Kurt asks, trying to make a joke even through the unstoppable wincing.

Blaine laughs. "I don't know about ride. Maybe a leisurely…"

"Stroll?" Kurt suggests, and Blaine laughs, and Kurt can feel the vibrations inside him. It makes him laugh even more, because that is ridiculous, and Kurt loses himself in how wonderfully insane—and how just wonderful—all of it is, because sometimes, even he can't find anything to complain about.


After they've gotten past Burt and the limo ride with Finn and Rachel—icy because Rachel can't seem to let the rivalry thing go even though they're no longer in competition—Kurt tries to remember a time when he thought he wouldn't get to dance at his prom with the person he loved.

Nine months doesn't seem like a long time until he realizes that nine months is all it takes to make a whole new person. He looks at who he was nine months ago and who he is now and thinks that's just about right.

"Don't laugh," Blaine says, "but I've never actually danced with a guy before."

"You haven't?" The shock is apparent in his voice, but it seems so impossible that Kurt can't quite believe it.

"None of my boyfriends have ever really been dancers," Blaine says, shrugging. "You're the first who's actually wanted to."

Kurt holds his hand out for Blaine to take, then leads him onto the dance floor, refusing to acknowledge the stares and the catcalls, the insults or even the few he knows are offering support. This is his prom, his first dance with a boy, and Blaine's first, too, and this is their moment, alone together.

"Can't believe I finally managed to be your first at something."

Blaine tilts his head back just enough for Kurt to see his eyes. They roam Kurt's face, smile alight, and then Blaine pulls Kurt just a fraction of an inch closer.

"Not all firsts are about sex," he replies back finally. "I've got a lot of firsts left for you to be, Kurt. If you want them."

"I do," Kurt answers, not caring what they might be or how long he might have to wait.

Nine months ago, people told him that because he was gay, his life was going to suck. One new person gestation period later, Kurt can't believe he ever listened to a word they had to say. And with his head resting on Blaine's shoulder comfortably, with the music swimming in his ears and Blaine's promise filling his heart, Kurt Hummel dances with his boyfriend at his prom.
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