Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1078245.
Rating:
Explicit
Archive Warning:
Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
Category:
M/M
Fandom:
Glee
Relationship:
Blaine_Anderson/Kurt_Hummel
Character:
Burt_Hummel, Kurt_Hummel, Blaine_Anderson, Sebastian_Smythe
Additional Tags:
Wingfic
Stats:
Published: 2013-12-11 Updated: 2014-01-03 Chapters: 10/11 Words: 21445
****** So Far From Crete ******
by stut_ter
Summary
WingFic AU where Kurt is descended from a long line of Aligerians, a
race of people who eventually grow wings. They began as revered and
now, in the 21st Century, are used for sexual pleasure and are
considered an exotic thing to behold. The winged must keep their
wings covered, causing major issues for them, and it is expensive to
cover them with synthetic skin. Kurt's mother was a Winged and, as he
begins to Become, he relocates to the Dalton Academie for Celestial
Descendants (opened in 1800, thanks so much), where he meets Blaine
Anderson, a potential Winged.
Notes
I began this story in December of TWO THOUSAND ELEVEN. It is now two
years later and every once in awhile people surface and ask me if I
will ever complete it. Well...I am now.
There were 7 parts written, I will be completing the entire story by
December 31, 2013, and then I will never need to worry about it
again.
This was my second long-ish fic. I was brand new to tenses, etc. I am
not editing these back chapters until after I finish posting so...I'm
sorry for any missing betaing because I DIDN'T BETA then.
Er...I kind of still don't?
Keep in mind, I began this RIGHT after the character of Blaine was
introduced and Sebastian was still a threat...
ANYWAY. Here's the original note I put at the beginning of the story:
The beautiful and talented anxioussquirrel brought this prompt to my
attention. From there I made an ACTUAL outline (shh...contain your
shock, okay?) and a WHOLE LOT OF NOTES (good lord) about what I want
to do with this story...I was going to try to be good. To pre-write
and save a few chapters and then be able to unload every few days.
But I have no patience. At least I edited a little bit before
posting, no? If you want to check out the prompt it's here: ...it
WILL_spoil_you_for_things_to_come._If_you_don't_want_to_be_spoiled
know_this:_Crete_is_where_Icarus_lived._Icarus_had_wings_of_feathers
and_wax._Perhaps_he_was_lucky...
***** Chapter 1 *****
He knows he can reach it if he wants to. Just stretch a little higher and his
fingertips will trail through stardust and moonbeams just like in a movie. If
he could just pull himself a little further from the earth...pull his toes up
and just..
And then he’s up. Instead of holding him down the wind flows over him, around
him, lifting and pulling him where he needs to go. Faster and higher he
climbs, aching to reach, touch, taste everything he can while he still has time
here. Home is miles, hours, days from here...and it’s so strange because this
could be home if he wanted it to be, he thinks; if he could let go of “home”
and just kept flying-
Kurt wakes with a jolt, knocking his pillow off the bed and resisting the urge
to reach around and feel his shoulder blades where they pinch and burn.
He knows he needs to tell his father.
He knew it yesterday. And the day before. And before that. This is the
fourth time in so many days that he has had this particular dream. In another
time or another place one would just think that Kurt Hummel is feeling freed
from some burden or needs to let go of some kind of baggage and move on and his
unconscious mind has been not-so-subtly berating him.
But this is now and here and in this life dreams such as these mean only one
thing.
Kurt stays in bed, turning to his side and resting his hands as if in prayer
under his cheek, supporting his head. He closes his eyes and dips into the
memory he has been reliving in his mind over and over these past few days.
She lays on his bed on her stomach, elbows bent and digging into the comforter
as he points to pictures in the book they are reading. Her laugh, high and
tinkling like far-off chimes, chases his around and out of the room, following
it down the hall. Book forgotten, he stretches his 6-year-old arms wide to
cuddle his mother’s back, so downy and soft. She settles into the mattress,
letting his weight push pleasantly down on her as she turns her head and
smiles. He knows the feathers there are covered in some substance- a thin film
that is so soft to the touch He’s heard his mom and dad talking about it
before. He remembers a time - not too long ago, actually, when his mother
covered her wings with thin cotton sacks that pulled tight and knotted where
the cascading feathers became one with her back. Now, though, he gets to see
them all the time, run his fingers through them and snuggle close into the down
as she sings him a lullaby and hums deep in her throat.
They always makes him feel so safe.
This time he pulls his nose from her back and finally asks what he’s been
wanting to know.
“Mama?”
“Yes Kurt?” comes her reply, her mouth barely visible over the crest of her
left wing.
He runs his fingers over the smooth muscle underneath the thin, smooth feathers
at the top of her wings, feeling it flex and shift under his fingertips.
“Why do you have wings and Daddy doesn’t” he whispers, wondering if this is
okay to ask.
His mother lifts up on her elbows and pushes up to a sitting position, knocking
Kurt off and he giggles as he climbs into her lap, incandescent brown wings
with their dappled golden strains shimmering much like her hair, settling
around them like a soft lair of protection.
“Well, Kurt. I’m so very lucky, you see. Fortune has...” she pauses and
stares thoughtfully at his bedroom wall, the ghost of a frown on her face,
“...smiled upon me. I am what they call “chosen”. I have been blessed with
the gift of flight. It’s...it’s a funny blessing, Kurt, because having wings
many, many years ago was looked upon as a holy thing...a religious thing.”
“What’s religious, mama?” he asks, tasting the word in his mouth, feeling it on
his lips.
“It’s when people believe in something greater than themselves, baby. When
they believe there is someone or something that is watching over them who
created them.” she replies, holding him tight.
“Are you religious, mama?” he had asked, craning his head up to look into her
eyes so like his.
She looks down at him, pondering a moment, before answering.
“No, Kurt. We are not.”
“Why, mama? What are we, then?” he had wondered aloud, a little scared and a
whole lot confused at the turn the conversation has taken.
His mother sighs and releases her grip slightly as she began to rub his back.
“Kurt. That is another question for another time, my love. First let us answer
your initial question. Mama has wings because she was chosen by genetics -
shh, we’ll talk of that later, too - and fate to have them. Your daddy was not
but that does not make him any less wondrous or special. He loves me, Kurt.
He loves us. And he protects me - and you - from the dangers in this world.
We are so very, very lucky that we have him. He keeps us together and helps
keep us strong.”
Kurt had a feeling, even at six, that when his mother had said “us” that day
she had really meant “me”.
Kurt ponders this a moment and asks the other question that has been burning
his tongue for what seems like years.
“Will-” he begins, biting his lip and deciding that no, this isn’t the time.
And he feels his mother’s wingtips on his chin, pushing his face gently up to
reach her gaze as she her eyes search his.
“Maybe, Kurt. Maybe. We never know, my dear. Before me it was your great-
great grandfather. Who’s to know? Some say it’s because we are most “worthy”.
Some say it’s because a higher power chose us. There is no rhyme or reason
that we can prove, Kurt. Whatever it is it will happen when you are older.
For now, though, let’s finish this book.”
And now that he knows - knows of the dangers that lurk and bite those who have
been “chosen”, knows of the pain and despair some go through, the fear and
molestation that they must face because of their kind. He knows now that his
mother had told him the truth when she said they had no god.
Because his mother had stopped believing long before he had come along.
He now knows the arguments his parents had in deciding to give birth to him.
His mother’s anxious fear that he would be cursed with her “blessing”. His
father’s insistence that he would keep them safe - all of them safe - if he
could create life with her. Kurt doesn’t know what his father ended up doing
or saying that had forced her hand but she had conceded and Kurt had been born.
Kurt sighed and flipped onto his stomach, sighing angrily into the sheets and
huffing out his frustration.
In the end it was not his father’s fault or Kurt’s fault or even his mother’s
“chosen” status that had robbed her of life. In the end the cancer had done
that, her feathers falling one by one, each like a silent symbol of her
deteriorating health. They watched as she would pick them up, delicately
stroking each in turn, and store them away, tears slipping silently down her
cheeks. Then one day, a sunny, glorious day in May, the last feather had
fallen, the membranes connecting her back and the sinewy muscles that
controlled their flight shrunken and disfigured. She had cried, her sobs
swallowed by his father’s woolen sweater as he carried her to the backyard and
Kurt poured them all - thousands of them of varying sizes and shapes, their
gold now winking mockingly at him as they tumbled into the burn pit. She
lifted her gaze to him as tears tracked down his face and he doused them all
with the lighter fluid his father had given him. At 10 years old he knew how
to strike a match from the box. He knew how to do it but he couldn’t...he
couldn’t bear to do this. To destroy what was once his comfort and now his
mother’s shame. She had seen it, the stutter in his fingertips, the hitch in
his breath as he brought the match to the box.
“Kurt, please. It’s what I want done. I don’t want someone coming to try and
take them from you...there are some that are still misguided - still think they
can cure things and...” her voice had trailed off as she reached around to
stroke what wasn’t there and another sob had caught in her throat as he pulled
strength from the bottom of his toes and struck the match before flinging it
into the pit, symbolically consuming what comfort his mother could provide him.
Three days later they had buried her.
Now, today, his shoulders throbbing and his mind frantic with fear of knowing,
truly knowing that this was to happen to him, he had to face reality and go
downstairs. Break the news to his father. And hope to a god they didn’t
believe in that Burt would not have to endure such pain again.
***
“Well, Jim, it looks like that’s all we’ve got today over in sports, back to
you!”
“Why thanks, Paula! Sounds like those cubs are going straight for the world
series this year! And now, our top story...police in Columbus today raided a
warehouse on the outskirts of the city where a sign proclaiming it “Club
Ornithos” revealed it to be holding a large number of the winged sect against
their will, trafficking in “Carnal Ornithology” or the sexual study of birds.
The “birds” in question, of course, are humans of Aligerian descent and thus
all principal operators and owners of the club were booked and detained pending
bail. The Committee for Aligerian Protection has been notified and Dr. Aristas
Flax is expected to arrive later on in the week to begin a full investigation.
Dr. Flax, as you may recall...”
His father pressed the button on the remote, silencing the television with a
sigh as he finished of the remains of his coffee and has just pulled himself
from his seat to retrieve another cup when he notices Kurt and smiles.
“Morning there, kiddo. How’d ya sleep? I thought I heard you in there I was
passing by this morning.”
Kurt tries to smile, he does, but he knows that in a matter of moments this
cheerful banter will be gone and he will be a source of worry and dread for his
father...and he doesn’t want that. He’s never wanted that but...he knows that
without telling his dad this will be ten thousand times harder. He doesn’t
even know what to expect - and without his mom to guide him through the process
he doesn’t even know what kind of time he has until the changes begin.
He leans against the counter and crosses his right arm in front of him,
gripping his left elbow as he takes a deep breath and lets it out, eyebrows
threading together, betraying his worry. His dad notices, of course, and
crosses the kitchen to snake his hand behind Kurt’s back and lay it on his
shoulder blade, an action he’s done a million times before today and it had
never mattered. Never caused Kurt to tense up and spring back as his skin
prickled and shouted at the touch.
His dad’s eyes widened and then fell, his mouth an ‘O’ of surprise and then a
tight line of...anger? Sadness? Disappointment? Kurt couldn’t tell but he
pressed forward with his plan anyway.
“Dad. I’ve had the dream four times now. And...it’s not going away. And I
feel...I feel it. It’s going to happen. I- Dad...Daddy, I need your help.”
His dad stared at him a moment, his eyes brimming and his face contorting with
emotions that didn’t matter - couldn’t because he had to help his son through
this, had to make the world outside obey the command that his son was no
one’s to take or abuse.
He opened his arms and Kurt fell into them, his sobs a stabbing cadence
drowning out the sound of toaster signaling it’s completion on the counter.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Kurt is out back, swinging gently in the hammock his dad had strung randomly
between two trees soon after his mom had passed away. They would take “swing
time” at the end of each day, Kurt lying on his dad’s chest, his dad pretending
it didn’t matter that he was 10 years old and cuddling close using his shop-
roughened arms as a protective shield from the world.
That didn’t work now, of course. Not that his dad wouldn’t try - he’s sure of
this. It would just be...awkward.
Kurt sighs and pushes his right leg off the edge, catching the ground with his
foot and shoving it hard. He pulls his leg back up as the wind catches his
hair, the strands lifting and fanning out over his forehead.
The wind. He seems so conscious of it now; the pull is overwhelming, calling
him to the sky. It’s not like the wind didn’t exist before today but today is
the day he notices the way it arcs and drags through the sky, notices the
subtle change in temperature as it moves and collides with invisible currents.
He closes his eyes thoughtfully, his skin prickling, brow furrowed as he
thinks about the day he’s had.
He had talked with his dad for over an hour in the kitchen regarding everything
from the actual changing process called “becoming” to long-term planning like
schooling and jobs for those of Aligerian descent. Apparently there are two
schools in Ohio that “specialize in the protection and education” of students
like Kurt. One is co-ed and 4 hours away but since they hadn’t settled on that
one Kurt can’t recall the name. His father had spent an hour on the phone with
both McKinley and the school he would be transferring to - Dalton Academie for
Celestial Descendants. Neither Kurt nor his father favor the archaic name -
the school had opened in 1800 - but they offer generous scholarships to
students who are in the process of “becoming”, and will provide protection to
him.
That’s all that really matters to Kurt because McKinley had been rough this
year (even though it’s only November) and he was already dreading living
through the rest of it before...this. Being gay in a Glee club with his voice
and...well, let’s just say Karofsky and the rest of the football team had been
tossing him around more and more often. No one seemed to notice and that was
the thing that pained Kurt so much...no one even seemed to care. This week’s
assignment had been the final blow - boys versus girls. And Mr. Shue had made
him work with the boys...and they had basically shut him out of the plans.
Kurt pushes the ground again, continuing in his oscillating movement.
It IS serendipitous that he is visiting Dalton tomorrow to see what it’s all
about.
To see if it feels safe.
***
Their meeting at Dalton is alternately surreal and inspiring.
Yes, they have had Kurt on their list of possible students since his birth.
Yes, they do offer scholarships to “potentials” but, even better, Kurt will
have a full scholarship since he is already well on the way to “becoming”.
Yes, they have a zero-tolerance rule for bullying and harassment in their
school - whether it be race, sexuality, creed, or Aligerian. Yes, he will be
assigned both a “mentor student” (for the ins-and-outs of Dalton culture) and a
“transformation counselor” (who will tutor him on the rituals associated with
his metamorphosis and the things that will happen because of it).
His father asks all the questions Kurt had wanted assurance in - can he have
visitors? (Yes, during visitor hours posted in the dormitories.) Do they have
a Glee Club? (Yes, the Dalton Academie Warblers are actually very well known
both locally and, in historical terms, nationally.) Do they allow packages
delivered? (Yes, although the postmaster checks the contents which doesn’t
really bother Kurt as long as he gets his Marc Jacobs.)
These things, the beautiful state of the campus, and the ability to have a
single dorm room (because of his transformational status) seal the deal for
Burt, Carole (his father’s new wife), and Kurt. After signing more papers than
Kurt can even keep count of, acquiring keys to his dorm room and mail box and
being assigned a parking space for his navigator they’re off to meet his
mentor. The headmaster, Dr. Togapi, pauses in the office to request the
student paged to the common eatery as they make their way down the stairs and
out into the sunshine.
As soon as they enter the eatery Kurt knows he has made a wise decision.
Instead of cafeteria chic, this building is old-world formal in dark wood and
deep reds and creams. On the wall there are discreet signs advertising the
menu choices of the day and Kurt is pleased to see that they they employ the
use of actual dinnerware. If this weren’t enough there’s also many varieties
of-
“Coffee!” Kurt grins, smiling at his father at his good fortune. As soon as he
turned 14 he had asked his father if he could try the bitter drink and had
fallen in love with the options it presented...while still watching his waist.
His dad chuckles to himself while he makes his way to get his favorite coffee.
“Grande nonfat mocha,” he breathes to himself.
“Yeah, I prefer medium drip, but what do I know?” comes a voice to his right.
Kurt grabs a lid and turns to greet the sound only to stop short, coffee
sloshing over the lip of the cup and pooling in a hot mess on the web between
his thumb and pointer finger. He shakes his hand, blushing brightly and
smiling at the boy responsible for his stinging hand.
Shit. Shit shit shit. he thinks. It was bad enough when I liked Finn. At
least I could avoid him...at least I could-
“Hello, I’m Blaine Anderson. Are you Kurt?” the young man with the amber eyes
inquires as he smiles and grabs some napkins, wiping gently at Kurt’s hand and
backing away a step, the corners of his lips still raised as his question hangs
in the air between them.
Kurt mentally kicks himself as he realizes he’s been staring. Blaine’s his
cheekbones, his full lips, and impish grin aren’t helping his cause. Why did
Blaine have to end up being so beautiful? Why?
He finds his voice and flashes the best smile he can muster as he responds,
“Yes, yes, that’s me. Apparently I can’t be trusted with anything today,
though, so it’s a good thing they sent for you.”
Blaine’s eyes widen and then he chuckles, gesturing toward the table where his
father and Dr. Togapi are waiting for them. Kurt is about to ask him another
question when a blonde boy enters the room and...
And he can’t stop staring. The boy looks like any number of boys that Kurt has
seen before but...
Blaine flicks his eyes at Kurt before stepping forward and putting his hand on
the boy’s shoulder and inclining his head toward him.
“Jeff,” Blaine intones, smiling at Kurt, “This is Kurt Hummel. He’s our newest
Warbler-in-training! Kurt, this is Jeff. Class clown extraordinaire and only
slightly mentally deficient in the area of mathemati-”
“HEY!” Jeff argued as he poked Blaine in the ribs and smiled, “You don’t have
to give away ALL of my secrets the second I meet the guy, Anderson.”
Blaine laughs and shoves his shoulder against Jeff’s before Jeff is making his
way toward the counter, his yellow-gold wings ruffling slightly in the breeze
from the ceiling fans above, their feathers spread wide on his back, grazing
the top of his spine. They were not the fullest or longest set of wings Kurt
had ever seen, but the fact that Kurt could SEE them was the difference. Jeff
seemed so comfortable, so content and...Kurt’s thoughts trail off as he walks
beside Blaine to join the headmaster and his father.
“So does everyone-”
“Yes,” Blaine replies, his eyes catching Kurt’s as they make their way across
the crowding room. Must be break, thinks Kurt as Blaine continues. “The policy
is very clear on what is and is not allowed which is really a breath of fresh
air for all of the winged here. They don’t have to cover their wings and bind
them down, they don’t have to deal with the welts between feathers that happen
over time when they are bagged with no where to molt properly. No one touches
them...well, I’ve never seen it happen and I don’t know anyone who remembers a
time when it did. You wanted to touch them, though, didn’t you?”
Kurt stops dead and stares at Blaine, his face flushing, eyes widening.
“But I didn’t...I never said...” he stutters, embarrassed. Because
he had wanted to touch them, and badly. It’s like his fingers itched to run
through them, feel their softness and lean in to breathe them in.
Blaine just smiles and pats Kurt’s arm.
“It’s okay, Kurt. It’s a human thing - whether you’re destined to be winged or
not - for some reason we just want to touchthem. It took awhile when I first
got here...not to just touch. Because that would've been...awkward, not to
mention a deal-breaker.” He breaks here and laughs, the sound filling Kurt’s
chest with feelings that he just wasn’t looking for anddammit this is going to
be hard but- “So you train your hands to keep still and just...take in the
beauty of it all. We really are very lucky, you know. There are very few
places left in this world where this can happen...so much...freedom. And they
trust us every day, Kurt, every single day to keep them safe. It is an honor
to be here amongst them all.”
Kurt finds himself speechless at Blaine’s words. He’s never been privy to any
of this and Blaine’s perspective on it is...revolutionary, to say the least.
Yes, he thinks. I can definitely feel safe here.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Slowly but surely Kurt becomes accustomed to life at Dalton.
At first his misses McKinley sorely, sending endless texts to Mercedes and
Rachel, commenting on everything from the young men around him to the color of
the drapes in the junior common area. As the days become weeks, though, the men
of Dalton start to carve out a place in his heart and, although it isn't home,
the combination of good-natured joking, singing together in amazing harmony,
and a curriculum that actually challenges Kurt gradually pulls him in.
It could've been the delicious food that solidified his love for the place or
how his laundry and towels were picked up on Tuesdays and Fridays and always
returned with his washing instructions followed to the letter.
It could've been that his popular culture class was currently reading a story
called The_Hunger_Games that, although written for middle grade readers, had
begun to trap an entire nation in its snare of post-apocalyptic humanity.
Another possibility was his actual room, adorned with furniture typical of a
dorm room but with a touch of old-school class and elegance. A ridiculously
large claw-footed bathtub and stand-up shower in the bathroom, a wardrobe
instead of a dresser, and a high-set bed that required a stool to get into.
It even could've been the Warblers, with their matching school blazers, spot-on
pitch, and intricately laid council framework that pulled Kurt in.
But...it is none of these things.
Instead it is his mentor student, Blaine, who has him smitten with Dalton.
Literally and figuratively.
Blaine's room is down the hall from Kurt's – a single even though Kurt knows
Blaine has never shown any signs of becoming. His parents just want to make
sure he is ready – just in case – and they have the money to provide that net.
Kurt had found out quickly that Blaine's parents are of a unique mindset. It is
obvious that they love their son and support him...from afar. Blaine lives his
life at arm’s length, his parents both heavily involved in the jobs they hold.
Neither Dr. nor Mrs. Anderson is winged. Blaine jokes that any member of his
family would probably die of shock if he were to actually acquire wings as it
has been a full six generations since any of the Andersons have been chosen by
whatever fate or design causes such things to happen. Even then it had been
Dr. Anderson's great, great, great, great, great, great grandMOTHER that had
had them.
Even still he is allowed here. Just in case. And in Blaine's case it is just as
well as middle school had been a nightmare of taunting and threats from other
students.
Being a potential angel who is gay seems like a waste to so many.
To Kurt, however, it ss an exercise in self-control and discipline. He and
Blaine fell into fast friendship, confiding in each other, taking solace in
their mutual experiences with the less than open minded people in their
respective worlds. Blaine's smile falters and his eyes grow distant when Kurt
asks questions at times and then, miraculously, he speaks at Kurt's urging;
months of turmoil spilling free, Kurt's compassion and empathy a healing balm.
Blaine often remarks how free he feels being here now, with Kurt. How utterly
complete. And it was at these times that Kurt has to look away from his eyes,
from his lashes that fan so perfect a frame around them and breath because
there is no way – no actual way – that Blaine can want him like he wants
Blaine.
The more time he spends with Blaine – listening to music together with their
heads sharing a pillow, talking about the melodies and whether or not they
would work for the Warblers while Blaine's shoulder presses into his and his
fingertips dance at the edge of Kurt's, skipping down the hall with Kurt's name
bubbling over his lips to share news or a well-earned grade, or just drinking
coffee quietly in the silence of the library watching Blaine's mind mull over
and tear through reference after reference - the more Kurt fell.
He finds that he doesn’t mind that he is falling. Not if Blaine can catch him.
And thus Kurt slowly begins to lose his mind because, well, Blaine.
In class: Blaine chewing his lip before raising his hand to answer a question.
In the hall: Blaine shaking his hips and bumping them sidelong into Kurt’s
whilst humming along and then bursting out choreography ideas as they make
their way to Warbler practice.
In his room: Blaine lying back on his bed, eyes fixed on Kurt’s iPod as he
scrolls through its contents, exclaiming about some song or another, his brow
furrowing and then lifting as he reads through the songs he finds there and
then smiling up at Kurt in his desk chair.
Kurt isn’t sure what to think of Blaine at this point. Sometimes when Kurt
looks up at him he finds that Blaine has been staring at him while he is
working on a paper or listening to music but then Blaine’s eyes flick back to
whatever he has been focusing on, leaving Kurt wondering if he’s been seeing
things.
And then last night…
It wasn’t meant to happen but happen it had. So here he is, lying on his
stomach in the middle of his bed and pining...actually pining for Blaine.
Willing the familiar knock knock *pause* kn-knock knock that signals Blaine is
outside to come and rescue him from this self-torture.
They had been lying on Kurt’s bed, watching Love Actually (“Kurrrt, c’mon it’s
almost Chrisssstmas and I want to watch it and no one will watch it with me at
home, you know that!” “...fine...FINE Blaine, okay! Stop poking my stomach!”),
a bowl of popcorn balanced between their hips and Kurt’s heart practically
beating out of his chest each time Blaine’s fingers brushed his in the bowl
when Kurt felt them. Little pulls and tugs at his shoulder blades. Not
painful really, but uncomfortable. He had suffered in silence and then,
somewhere around Aurelia’s dip in the eely waters of the pond, a sharp twinge
had sent him bolt upright, mostly empty popcorn bowl flying, strangled yelp
leaping from his mouth.
Blaine had sat up quickly, concern etched on his face while placing his hand
gently on Kurt’s back. Sitting up had been the wrong move, Kurt’s muscles
tense, screaming at him, his skin seeming to ripple and burn until Blaine’s
hands were on his back.
“Kurt! Kurt are you...”
Kurt tried to stop his body from easing into Blaine’s touch but he felt
powerless against it, his body calling to be smoothed over and gently soothed
by Blaine’s fingertips.
Blaine felt it, the smooth tilt of Kurt’s body as his fingers found what Kurt
had been hiding away...the puffy patches of skin under his thin shirt,
spreading slowly but surely over his back as his time of becoming creeping ever
closer. He had known he should’ve called for his transformation counselor by
now but there is no one he felt as comfortable with as Blaine, no one who knew
him so fast and so well. And Blaine knows all he is hiding now.
Kurt had breathed out, his lungs tight with nervousness and self-loathing. He
hates the burgeoning welts on his back, spreading further and wider than he
thinks is healthy. Each night he sits in his private bathroom (its tub half of
the room, enough for easily three people to lay down in to assist with the
process later...) half turned ‘round on himself and stare...his skin pushing
out, still opaque yet filling softly with...what? He is still too afraid to
ask.
“I...” he began, searching Blaine’s eyes as the other boy’s hands gently slid
up and back down his back, smoothing over the pinpoints of pain that ultimately
came with the change of his physiology and calming the nerves there. “I think
it’s just part of...it, Blaine. You know? I...”
And he had burst into tears.
Blaine had held him, his strong hands still soothing, whispering shhhs and it’s
going to be alrights into his left ear before pulling back and lifting Kurt’s
chin.
“What is it, Kurt? Does it...is it bad?”
Kurt had hiccupped, embarrassed by his tears, wiping furiously at his cheeks
before responding.“It’s not...ugh, it’s notthat, Blaine. That I expected.
It’s...my back...it’s so...” He had stopped, trying to calm his accelerated
breath, sucking in gulps of air, trying to calm himself, “I’m...I’m so ugly.”
Blaine’s eyes had widened and he had pushed forward, turning Kurt’s body and
tugging at his shirt.
“What are you-” Kurt began, fingers tearing at Blaine’s hands, “No...no, no,
no...you can’t, it’s so, I just...”
“Kurt,” Blaine breathed, his lips next to Kurt’s ear, his fingertips brushing
the skin at the base of his spine, “Kurt...I...please? Just...let me see.”
Kurt had shuddered, his mind screaming no while his head and heart nodded yes
and Blaine had pulled up the back of his shirt.
Blaine stared, the angry red welts the largest...fullest...at the area directly
above Kurt’s shoulder blades and then spreading out...down, down, disappearing
below the waistband of his sweats (which, Blaine realized, Kurt was actually
wearing a lot now which had struck him as odd seeing as how Kurt seemed like a
particularly fashion-conscience guy).
Blaine stared; tracing the lines of what would become Kurt’s tether to the
world of the winged, until he had heard it.
Kurt’s tiny sobs.
He pulled his gaze from Kurt’s back and saw his friend’s shoulders shake, his
hands covering his face and he just...
Blaine began at the center; the place where the welts were practically scarlet,
and kissed.
Kurt had gasped, arching his back, a startled cry torn from his throat as
Blaine covered every angry patch of skin on Kurt’s back, soothing the harsh
red, humming his encouragement against Kurt’s skin.
When he finally pulled away, Kurt had turned to him, his face a question, and
seen. Blaine’s eyes a thunderstorm, his face set with determination.
“You’re beautiful. Amazingly, life-alteringly beautiful, Kurt. And
I’ve...I’ve known that since the moment I saw you...and I…I just...”
Suddenly his lips had been on Kurt’s, his tongue dragging, asking, entering
Kurt’s mouth and filling it, owning it, taking every ounce of desire Kurt had
in him and setting it on fire.
And...
And then Kurt had pulled free and ran out of the room.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Kurt just breathes as he closes his door behind him and makes his way down the
hall, passing one, two, three doors before stopping in front of Blaine’s and
wrapping his arms around his waist.
You can do this. He doesn’t have to come to you. YOU’RE the one who ran away.
His eyes rove over the door, a deep walnut brown with Blaine’s schedule
carefully slipped into a page protector and clipped in the clamp on the door,
his name neatly typed at the top. Next to the door at eye level is his mini-
white board. Kurt’s eyes widen as he takes in what Blaine’s written there in
his (surprisingly) messy scrawl:
“And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
Cuz sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight.”
I’m ready. Are you?
This can’t be for him. It can’t... but who else could it be for? And why did
he leave it HERE? Was it here last night? Yesterday? Kurt can’t recall. Last
night he had doggedly passed this spot with his eyes downcast as he finally
returned to his room after an hour of hiding in the emergency stairwell.
I am. I so am. He tells himself as he moves forward and knocks on the door
and waits.
And waits.
And waits.
He’s just not there or maybe I’m too late Kurt thinks... but then there’s
movement from within and the knob is turning.
Red-rimmed amber eyes search his and he sucks in a breath before speaking.
“See, what’s really embarrassing is that I think,” Kurt begins, his eyes never
leaving Blaine’s, “I think I already maybe love you and I really didn’t know if
I could deal with that AND with the win-”
“I think I love you, too.” Blaine whispers, reaching out to drag his fingers
down Kurt’s arms, gently pulling them away from his stomach and pulling Kurt
close to wrap them around Blaine’s waist, bringing his nose up to brush against
Kurt’s before speaking again, louder even though they are so, so close.
“Please don’t run away from me again. Please. I- it took everything I have
not to come to you, to wait for you to choose and I can’t... I don’t think I
can do that again without you to talk to about it, you know? You’re, well,
you’re my best friend now, Kurt. The best thing in my life, actually, and I
just-”
Kurt kisses him then, moving them into Blaine’s room and closing out the rest
of the world.
***
“ee - AH - nah.”
“Okay, wait. That’s how you say his name?”
“No, Blaine. That’s how you say HER name. Iana is a woman, okay?”
“It does not even look like that on this piece of paper. Wow, okay.”
Kurt’s lying on Blaine’s bed, stomach down with his sock feet in the air. He
sighs before answering.
“Well, Dr. Togapi insists I’ll like her. I was a little weirded out by the
fact that she’s a she but we’ll see...”
His appointment is in fifteen minutes. Iana is supposed to meet him in his
room. She doesn’t know it yet, but Blaine will be there, too.
In the five days since Kurt had stood in front of Blaine’s door willing himself
to be brave, a lot had happened. Blaine had insisted that they go to talk to
Dr. Togapi, who had in turn insisted Kurt be seen by the school physician, Dr.
Marcos. Dr. Marcos had given him a thorough examination and then she had
informed him that it was time - beyond time, actually - to seek out the
assistance of a transformation counselor and that one would be assigned to him
as soon as possible.
Which brings us to right now. This moment. He’s about to meet this woman and
he’s terrified.
“What if... what if she thinks I’m stupid because I don’t know much about it
other than, well, what we’ve heard on the news?” Kurt asks Blaine, burying his
face in the rich fabric of his comforter.
Blaine crosses the room and Kurt feels the bed dip beside him and then Blaine
is draped over his back, warm comfort that awakens something deep in his
stomach.
He keeps trying to tell it to shut up. That it isn’t necessary to feel
like this every time Blaine so much as breathes on him but... he can’t help it.
Kissing Blaine has been... heaven and so, so sexy and... awkward, actually.
Kissing Blaine heats like burning and when it happens it’s like his whole body
just thrums and his blood beats out his name. So things... come up. Between
them.
Kurt doesn’t know where it’s coming from, either, because even a week ago
he swears this wouldn’t happen... that he could be stronger - smarter, and
ignore all the temptation that swirls around Blaine, even at this moment. But
right now, on this day? Never. It’s like Blaine has the sweetest skin and
even him in his t-shirt right now is an absurd amount of skin to be showing to
Kurt. Doesn’t he even see how it effects him? Guh, it’s so frustrating.
“Blaine... Blaaaaine,” he whines and Blaine makes some sound of question in
return. “You have to get off of me, okay, or this is going to
be really embarrassing when she gets here... I mean, more than it already will
be, okay?”
Blaine giggles low in his throat and shitfuckNO he’s dragging his tongue over
the back of Kurt’s neck and nuzzling into the tender spot at the base of his
skull and oh, hey NOW biting at the tendons there. It’s too much, Blaine over
him and biting him, making him hard in moments and he can’t take this at all-
Kurt rolls, knocking Blaine off of the bed in his attempt to break free and
hears Blaine laughing on the other side of the bed, sprawled out on the floor.
“Oh, ha ha. Yes, oh, okay. It’s so funny to you, right? Yeah?
It’s not funny, Blaine... I mean... okay, so it’s not like you don’t know or
anything so, like, look at me. Just... just LOOK. Ohhhhhhh my god.” Kurt’s
embarrassed and teasing, a half-smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Blaine’s eyes appear over the edge of the bed to inspect Kurt, whose ears are
bright red, cheeks flushed, and whose chest rising and falling swiftly. His
eyes descend and oh lord he did that to Kurt and jesusfuck is that hot and-
“So sweatpants are not so good at camouflage, huh?” Blaine smirks, pulling his
arms up and crossing them on the duvet before lying his chin on them and
lifting and staring pointedly at Kurt’s crotch before looking up into the
clearly irritated eyes of his boyfriend.
“C’mon, you. You’re lucky I’m still letting you come with me,” replies Kurt
airily.
***
When she comes, she is unlike anything Kurt or Blaine have ever seen. Kurt
doesn’t know what he was expecting... he has seen some winged that look very...
well, normal. Just... blend in with the crowd in yoga pants and a shirt until
you notice the bag on their back is not a backpack.
Not Iana.
He opened the door at her knock and took a step back, awed. If Iana were what
all of the winged looked like he could see how once they were revered as
godlike. She’s wearing a form-fitting grey sweater dress with black swaths of
fabric criss-crossing the front giving it an asymmetrical quality. Her toned
legs are wrapped in skin-tight black leggings and she’s wearing leather boots
that hug the length of her calf with buttons up the sides. Her strawberry
blonde hair is swept up and held by shimmering miniature black fabric roses,
ringlets cascading down her back. Her eyes are warm and inviting, deep green
and expressive. Kurt is immediately taken with her sense of style and her
confident air.
It is her wings, though, that capture them both. Arching at least an inch
above her shoulders with tips brushing the tops of her thighs they are easily
the longest wings either boy has ever seen. The effect is breathtaking.
After a moment or two of both boys just staring, Iana takes command of the
situation.
“You can touch them, you know. I won’t bite.”
Kurt just stares, afraid to even breathe on the exquisite creature in his room.
Iana senses his fear and steps closer to turn and spread her wings in front of
him.
“It’s okay, Kurt. They’re covered - you might not have seen it before, but
it’s a bio-film that-”
“I’ve seen it,” he whispers, thinking of the last feathers he had touched, the
way they had felt beneath his fingertips and then- how they had twisted and
burned in the pit that day. His fingers twitch and he realizes he’s trembling,
the weight of his control shaking him to the core. He takes a deep breath and
reaches out, closer, closer until he’s brushing the gentle slide of her red-
tinged down and he is lost; his fingers stroking and feeling. Remembering.
He has to remind himself to breath as he steps forward and pushes his cheek to
Iana’s back, tears welling up and running over, his heart full to bursting with
memories.
“Oh my god,” he breathes, “You are so beautiful.”
***
“I’m so sorry, I-” Kurt begins but Iana shushes him and sips at her coffee,
settling down into the comfortable easy chair in the corner of his spacious
room.
“So, Kurt. I know that your mom was winged but she’s gone now... what did you
learn, if anything, from her and what do you know?” Iana asks quietly, settling
in, her folded wings draped gracefully behind her.
“Well,” he begins, nervously glancing at Blaine. He knows Blaine knows
something about this and it’s going to be an awkward conversation but... if
they are together they need to do this together. “... I know that my mom had
bio-film like you do. I know it cost my entire grandfather’s estate to have it
made for her, too. Uh, I know that our kind used to be revered and now we’re
more like... a novelty... viewed as a species almost designed for...”
He gulps. He doesn’t want to say this, to admit to what he fears for his
future but he has to. Iana needs to know what he knows - or thinks he knows.
“... designed for sexual pleasure. Our wings are... responsive to touch and
many people have turned our kind into slaves and prostitutes. Where we were
once revered, we are now manipulated, used. Um... I know that it hurts to
become until it doesn’t but no one says what happens then and I really want to
know because, well...”
And he stands to show her, to be honest with her because that is why she is
here. To know and to help.
Kurt pulls on the bottom of his shirt and pulls it up and off, turning his back
on Iana and revealing the puffed, bruised skin there. His entire back is
swollen, filled and tight with becoming. He straightens his back and peels
down the back of his sweat pants, unashamed of showing Iana his body because,
he tells himself, it has to be done. He glances at Blaine and is relieved to
see that the other boy has averted his gaze.
The welts continue down the curve of Kurt’s ass and over the tight muscles of
his thighs, all the way down to the back of his knees. Bending his legs has
become more and more difficult over the last few days, and he just wants
answers. Is this normal? Should he expect it to go lower?
“Well now, Kurt,” Iana murmurs, her fingers laced around her coffee cup, “it
seems as though yours will be even longer than mine are, and that, my dear, is
a rare feat indeed!”
Kurt pulls himself back together and turns to smile at her as he eases himself
onto his bed, assuming the same position he had had at Blaine’s. Lately, it’s
his most comfortable position.
“Well,” Iana begins, “It seems that you are getting pretty close to the actual
reveal, my friend. The tightness of your skin, the size of the welts - all
tell-tale signs. I would give you 3 days - 5 tops. Which means we have a lot
to talk about. I’m going to give you a run down of what I know, okay? And
then we’ll start making plans.”
Kurt nods, eager to hear what she has to say.
“What you say is true. Our kind has become a spectacle in this century. Long
ago we were revered. Held in such esteem that even kings would bow to us. We
are still held in high esteem, of course, but in a different way. I’ve had
many women ask me what it’s like to have sex because of my race. I’ve had men
who stroke me, pet me, and undress me with their eyes before they have ever
even heard me speak. On some twisted level it’s flattering, really, to have so
many be so interested in you. It can be dizzying at times.”
She sips her coffee again and Kurt watches her, the grace of her legs sitting
crossed loosely in a knot as her lithe body relaxes into the chair. She
glances at Blaine and moves on.
“Under your skin you are growing your wings, Kurt. Your body is made to begin
creating feathers with a thin protective layer enveloping it close to your
body. I know it looks almost blister-like, but what’s inside is not an
infection or anything bad. On that contrary, it’s a bit like emerging from a
chrysalis. They form under your skin and then, when they are close to
bursting, we help you remove and dispose of the outer covering.”
“So... what’s the catch, though. I’ve heard rumors and I just... I need to
know.”
Iana eyes Kurt then and glances pointedly at Blaine before continuing.
“When I was assisted with my becoming my counselor was a woman as well. She
was a mother with three small children. The idea is to give you someone that
you will not become awkwardly sexually needy of. One has a tendency to become
incredibly attached to their counselor once they have gone through the process
together and thus they attempt to give you someone with whom you would rather
not have sex.”
Kurt shakes his head, “I don’t understand... why is it such a big deal?”
Iana sighs. “Listen, Kurt. I don’t know how much sexual experience you have
here but... you know why feathers need a bio-covering, right?”
Kurt breathes deep, settling himself. “Yes. Because if you touch them you...
well, you orgasm, right?”
“Right,” Iana continues, “but it’s a little more complicated than that. I don’t
know much about you, Kurt, other than what’s in your file about your mom and
all. So. Let me be clear - I am going to be as specific as possible in this
discussion and it may be a little uncomfortable for you to hear... are you sure
that you want Blaine here for this?”
Kurt can tell she’s not trying to be condescending; on the contrary, she’s
trying to be as helpful and open as possible. He glances at Blaine, who is
sitting by his side on the bed, his fingertips loosely twined in Kurt’s.
Blaine gives a small nod and Kurt nuzzles his head into the soft curve of his
boyfriend’s thigh before looking back to Iana.
“I’m sure.” He replies simply.
Iana nods and begins.
“Okay then. I know how you’re feeling right now, Kurt. It’s like every touch
that Blaine gives you makes you burn with need, right?”
Kurt blushes right down to the soles of his feet and nods, feeling Blaine still
beside him. Okay, so we ARE getting right to it, then he thinks.
“It’s not like that’s uncommon for anyone your age,” Iana continues, “but
what’s different for you - and was for me - is how intense and lingering it is.
It’s like it’s in your blood and nothing will sedate you. I know because I’ve
had it happen. And before you ask, we don’t know why. Some think that it’s
the natural instinct to continue the race, some believe it has to do with the
wings themselves representing freedom of all - including sexuality. No matter
what it is though, Kurt, it burns within us at a greater pace, a more
intent need. Science and technology are on our side in that - hundreds of
studies have been done on our bodies and minds and it is not just your
imagination or your inability to properly control yourself. During the time of
leading up to becoming and during the act itself it is the most heightened - at
times almost a painful need that your body will stop at nothing to acquire.
Thus the need for Transformation Counselors.”
Kurt feels like he can barely breathe. Had this happened to his mother? This
need? From what Iana said the answer was most surely yes but-
“You said that counselors are picked so that we will not become - sexually
dependant on them. What does that mean?”
Iana clears her throat. “Well, that’s the thing. When one chooses to be a
counselor we know how you work - biologically - during becoming. We know that
the process is an incredibly, um, erotic one.”
“Erotic?” Kurt echoes, disbelieving. “But... but I thought it was painful?”
“Oh, well you’ve done the painful part, actually. Growing them under your
skin, it stretching to accommodate their growth, finding ways to move while
it’s happening. All of that IS very painful. But the actual act - no.
It’s... it’s something else entirely.”
Kurt is quiet a moment, lost in thought before speaking.
“Is that why it’s you? I mean... you’re beautiful and obviously intelligent
and - thank god for small favors - incredibly stylish. But... you’re a woman
so I wouldn’t get... attached?”
Iana smiles, the gesture meeting her eyes. “You are too kind, but yes. That’s
why. Because we know with certainty that this will be an experience for you
that will be incredibly intimate and things may... happen that could make you
think that you are attached to me in a romantic way when we are not. I hope
this isn’t too confusing for you... I know your sexuality. But Kurt, in that
moment, it’s about need. Pure, carnal, older than life need. I know what I’m
doing and why I’m there, which tethers me to reality. It will be harder for
you.”
Kurt realizes that Blaine is shaking beside him and he glances up to see his
jaw clenched, his eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Blaine what’s wro-”
Blaine shakes his head firmly, and motions to Iana to continue.
“I know, Blaine,” she said. “It’s hard. It really is. Many times people
choose their partner to be with them during their becoming if they are over 16.
It is an option for you both if Kurt is wanting to do that, but I don’t know
how, um, experienced either of you are or if this is something you are both
ready for. It’s a thing that happens to our kind and it just... it’s not
something that I’m proud of but it IS the way it has always been.”
Kurt shifts uncomfortably on the bed, his back aching to be touched as he
realizes why Blaine is so upset.
Because he has no choice. No choice in how his first real sexual experiences
will play out... he’ll be like an animal, something feral that needs to be
placated and yeah, he’ll always remember it but it’s not the romantic gesture
that he has dreamed of - that Blaine knows he has thought of for a long time.
He has known for a long time that Aligerians are viewed as sexual creatures and
that some view them as toys to be used and then forgotten.
But he didn’t know that the physiology of the Aligerians themselves added fuel
to the fire.
“That’s why the wings are covered,” he pipes up, putting two and two together,
finally. “It’s not just to protect people from having their feathers taken for
religious rituals or weird voodoo charms, is it? It’s because the wings have
something about the-”
“Yes,” Iana interrupts, setting aside her finished coffee cup. “The bio-film
that I have on my wings is exorbitant in cost but has made my life much more
bearable. Most cannot afford to use the film as it is an exact genetic match
to my wings. Only I can put it on - it fuses to my feathers by genetic code -
and only I know how to take it off - it’s a series of taps and slides at a
certain point on my wings. I can still feel that people are touching them if
they choose to do so, but the human touch that seems to activate the sexual
response is effectively neutralized.”
“What if...” Kurt begins, looking away, embarrassed.
“Kurt, you can ask me ANYthing. That’s why I’m here,” Iana soothes, exiting
the chair and settling next to him on the floor by the bed. “I asked for this
assignment because you - your story, your flair called to me. So be honest
with me and let me know how to help you.”
Kurt’s chest fills with appreciation for this young woman - she can’t be more
than 24 - and he pulls himself together to carry on.
“What if you touch your wings? Is that like... is it like... masturbation?
That’s weird.”
Iana laughs a little and smiles. “Okay, yeah that WOULD be weird. But it’s
kind of like tickling. You can’t tickle yourself, right? Not really? Because
your body is anticipating it. Besides, it’s about other people touching for
some reason or another. So... no, it’s not like that. I would never leave my
house, right?”
All three laugh at that. Iana makes them feel so comfortable and then Blaine
speaks, quietly but surely. “Iana?”
“Yes, Blaine?”
“So if Kurt were to have someone else be there for his... for his becoming,
what would they have to do?”
Kurt turns to Blaine, eyebrow upraised but Blaine is determinedly avoiding his
gaze.
Iana looks from one boy to the other and considers them a moment before
responding.
“Well, if Kurt were to have someone else there I would need to train that
person how to cut open the back tissue when it begins its cracking process and
properly remove all traces of it to prevent infection. I would need to show
them how to unfold and cleanse the wings to begin the drying process and-” She
cuts off here, eyeing Blaine as if coming to some conclusion. “Well, you would
need to watch an actual becoming to know what to expect. Kurt would be the
same person. The same man you love and the same soul that drew you to him in
the first place but... you would need to know that everything about him and
his... sexual energy... would be compounded tenfold. You would need to learn
to train yourself to focus on what he will need and want and to put aside any
expectations that you thought you had and just do. There will not be room for
excessive thought, just acceptance, deftness of hand and... well...”
Iana pauses and looks into Kurt’s eyes.
“Flexibility.”
***
“Do you want to do it?”
Blaine chokes, bringing his water glass down from his hand and setting it down
with a clatter while he sputters and coughs the water out of his windpipe.
Kurt laughs and rubs good-naturedly at his back while he composes himself.
“Uhhh, do what?” Blaine questions, fixing Kurt with his amber stare.
“Be there for my becoming. I-” Kurt stops, gathering his thoughts and
realizing how very vulnerable he feels in this moment where Blaine can deny
him, albeit for perfectly understandable reasons. “-I know that we’re new, us
is new, thisis new, but... I mean, I just want it to be you, you know? I
just... it’s not like I’m ready but I don’t think that’s something that I have
control over at this point so I completely understand if you aren’t ready for
it but I have to ask. I just have to because you’re... you.”
Kurt waits for what feels like the longest few moments of his life, watching
Blaine’s face and hoping.
“Actually,”Blaine confesses, “I would be honored.”
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
Reminder: the Transformation Counselor's name is EE-AH-NAH. Iana.
Blaine
After spending literally an entire day with Iana, Blaine is exhausted. He's
lying on his bed staring at the ceiling and trying to get a solid hold on his
thoughts which, at the moment, seem bent on tearing around his head like a
jaguar on speed.
Two hours after meeting Iana the previous day he had sat in the headmaster's
study. Dr. Togapi had filled his parents in via speakerphone of Blaine's intent
to assist in Kurt's becoming. Iana had sat in the chair beside him while his
mother and father asked questions, so many questions that Kurt and he had never
even thought to ask.
After his mothers' final “well, that is something, isn't it?” they had agreed
to the arrangement, if only for the barest chance of it “spurring his own
Aligerian chromosomes into action” - his father's words. Blaine felt a bit
miffed about that part as Iana had been very clear that there had been very
little evidence to the fact that being involved in another's becoming had ever
been linked to causing one's becoming to happen, but Blaine would take it,
whatever the reason.
He had been focused on Kurt. On being able to be the one who helped Kurt
through this process and being the one that would be there instead of some
stranger.
After today, though, he realizes that he still has a lot to talk to Kurt about.
Iana had been nothing but patient, answering all of his questions, no matter
how strange or downright perverse they seemed. She let him inspect her own
wings, how they folded up and how they folded out; the topography of them and
the areas that he would have to watch for when cutting Kurt's free. She had
models that were molded to look and feel like the actual skin of someone who
was becoming and he practiced the movements he would have to do on Kurt, simple
yet specific in that he would need to remember each of the areas in turn that
needed to be checked.
She gave him tools for the procedure and a kit with towels and oils for Kurt's
new wings. He had blushed when he noted that the kit also included
many...other things that would prove to be useful at the time as well.
The biggest thing he had to thank Iana for, though, was her hand in his as they
watched a recording of a becoming that Iana had presided over. They had needed
permission from his parents for this as well so that the school could not be
held liable for the content of the film. They had viewed the tape first; all
two hours of it, without speaking and with Blaine's hand tightly gripping
Iana's as he watched it all unfold.
The Aligerian had been male but young, not more than 15. Iana was younger, too,
but still just as lovely as today. He also found out how she would have
fulfilled Kurt's...desires, had she been the one assisting him.
So many straps.
Now that he knows, he's seen what will happen he's both thrilled and terrified.
He knows now the weight of what he has decided to take on and all he wants is
to make it as good and perfect for Kurt as he can; make his becoming an
experience he will always remember.
***
Kurt
Kurt's on his bed, on his stomach. Of course. This has been his default
position for the past few days but right now there is literally no other way to
sit and when he's standing the pressure is so great the he feels he will rip in
two.
He's really not enjoying this right now.
He has been waived off classes until two days after his becoming which, it
seems, is imminent. Now there is just the waiting.
Kurt Hummel is not very good at waiting.
He's used to singing, dancing, moving...making things or becoming involved. Not
sitting. Not just lying around waiting for some grand event to take place. He's
usually creating the grand event. Which, he supposes, he kind of is.
He hears a knock at his door and breathes a sigh of relief. He's had reading
material and movies to watch but mostly he's just wanted company. Specifically
Blaine's company. He fervently hopes that it's him at the door.
“Come in,” he calls, hoping that whoever it is won't mind his rudeness as the
door opens and Blaine's smiling face peeks around it. Kurt smiles back,
scooting over then relaxing into the bed and waiting for Blaine to come and
join him.
Blaine crosses the room, his feet bare, and climbs onto the bed next to Kurt,
laying down beside him and turning his head to the right so he's looking
straight into Kurt's eyes.
“Hi,” Kurt whispers, nervous and giddy at the same time. So much hangs between
them right now, so much they should say, could say but someone has to say it
first and he's not quite sure where to start.
“Hi,” Blaine whispers back as he leans over and softly presses his lips to
Kurt's. It's seemingly innocent, warm lips pressed lightly against his own but
Kurt can't help the whine that escapes his throat.
“I'm sorry,” he cringes, “I really didn't mean to do that.”
Blaine laughs low in his throat and pulls back just far enough to look back
into Kurt's eyes before rubbing his nose against his boyfriend's.
“It's fine.”
“I just...it scares me, you know? I have felt like this about you...loved
you...for as long as I've really known you and I don't want you to think that
this is all because of my becoming, you know?”
There's pleading in Kurt's eyes as he speaks and Blaine pulls him close, his
grip loose as not to disturb Kurt's back.
“Shh, stop. I know that's not it. I know, don't worry, please. There's enough
to worry about without that, too. I know you lo-...that you care for me, okay.
No worries.” Blaine murmurs.
“I love you. I do. So don't you worry about saying it, then.” Kurt bites back,
noting Blaine's stutter over the word.
“Okay, fine. Now that we know that you love me and I love you, let's have an
awkward conversation, shall we?” says Blaine as he flips himself over to stare
at the ceiling, his legs brushing Kurt's as their elbows knock before he's
settled and comfortable.
“More awkward than yesterday?” Kurt asks, knowing the answer.
“Ohhhhhh yes, most definitely,” Blaine chuckles and Kurt can't help but relax
at the sound. Blaine has already seen all there is to see and he's still here;
still ready to do this so...
“Ok, tell me about it.” he says, shoring himself up for all the knowledge Iana
had to give.
“Well,” Blaine begins, “I know what I need to do and I have all the supplies
we'll need in my room.” Kurt notices a blush high on his cheeks at that and
lifts an eyebrow. “And Iana and I talked about you and me and, well, what
we've, you know, done together um, you know...”
“Sexually.” Kurt finishes, his skin on fire as Blaine turns to look at him and
he knows Blaine can see how flushed his face is. Blaine blinks and swallows,
his tongue feeling much too large in his mouth as he tries to continue.
“Yes, sexually. Which, you know, isn't much and we talked about that and how
I'm – and she suggested that we talk about some things just to be on the same
page when things...happen. So, can we do that? Talk about some things?”
Kurt nods.
“Um, so...uh...” Blaine stammers.
“Oh, my.” Kurt drawls. “Your eloquence astounds me.”
Blaine swats him, exclaiming, “Hey! You didn’t just spend your whole day
learning about the erogenous zones of Aligerians - which is pretty much every
square inch of your skin during becoming, I’ll have you know - and then
watching a movie where you saw one actually happen and you didn’t think it was
possible for someone to orgasm that much and-” Blaine cuts off, realizing he’s
running at the mouth. Kurt’s eyes widen, his pupils battling his irises for
dominance as he takes in Blaine’s words.
“How many times,” Kurt asks, voice a breath against Blaine’s face.
Blaine’s cock is already aching, remembering what the boy had looked like,
picturing what Kurt would feel like against him, stretched and wanting. Blaine
leans over, burying his face in Kurt’s shoulder, and groans. “How am I going
to talk about this with you right now,” comes his muffled plea, “I can’t even
make it through the very beginning...”
“So...how about we take care of that first...or...during?” purrs Kurt.
Blaine’s head snaps up and Kurt snickers at the comedy of it before Blaine’s
kissing him, softly, slowly, lips tightly closed, and then speaking against his
lips.
“What did you have in mind?” he whispers, his lips grazing Kurt’s, shooting
tingling sparks down his spine. Blaine closes his eyes and Kurt follows suit,
confessing to the perceived darkness.
“I want to see you come, Blaine,” he whispers against Blaine’s lips and feels
rather than sees the breath Blaine takes before his shoulder starts trembling
against Kurt’s. “I want...I want to see how you touch yourself while we talk
about this. I wish I could do more, but-”
Blaine growls against his lips and then lays back, getting comfortable before
dragging his fingertips down his chest. Kurt winces as he rearranges his body,
angling slightly back so some of his weight is on his side and watches,
transfixed as Blaine’s fingers stop at the hem of his shirt.
“Why are you stopping?” Kurt hisses, mindful of the need building in his own
body; his cock heavy against his hip bone, pressing into the mattress.
“Patience,” Blaine replies, his smile never faltering, “I just wanted to know
if you wanted me to...take this off?”
“Oh god, please yes,” comes Kurt’s breathy reply and Blaine’s sitting up,
pulling at his shirt until it’s lost somewhere on the floor and Kurt’s left
hand is teasing its way down his chest, tugging gently on the hair there and
then sliding down his torso, pulling a groan from both boys.
“Gorgeous,” Kurt mutters, as he settles his hand at the waistband of Blaine’s
jeans. “Honestly, I don’t know how you were single all I know is that I get to
have you and that is all that matters.”
Blaine clicks his tongue and laughs. “Stop it! I was just waiting for the
right pers-onnnn.”
Kurt’s hand has broken the boundaries and is slowly stoking the obvious bulge
in Blaine’s jeans. He can’t believe how physically warm Blaine’s cock is
through the thick material and he wonders at how hot it would be in his...
“I asked how many?” he repeats, stroking lightly, lightly along the rigid
surface of his boyfriend’s dick.
“Um, in the two hours-oh my god-” Blaine bites his lip, Kurt’s hand applying
more pressure to the base of his cock and pulling his hand harshly up the side,
“-ok, uhhhhm, I think it was-fuck, Kurt I just- fifteen. Something li-iiii-ke
that. Kurt, jesus, please can I-”
“FifTEEN?” Kurt shrills as he watches Blaine reach down to unbutton his pants,
making short work of the zipper and then tugging both them and his boxers down
to his thighs, causing his newly-freed erection to slap back against his
abdomen before sitting up to pull the offending clothing completely off,
dropping it all to the floor.
Kurt stares and Blaine begins to fidget under his scrutiny, taking in a breath
to speak just as Kurt’s hand coils loosely around his cock and begins to slide
lightly, teasingly.
“God, I love your hands on me,” he breathes as Kurt’s fingertips trace their
way up and over the head, dragging through and slicking down what’s there,
making every touch hyper-focused.
“And I love touching you,” Kurt replies, eyes wide. “So...tell me now,” he
pauses and Blaine groans, his hips grinding up into Kurt’s hand, needing more.
“What is it that you wanted to ask me?”
Kurt begins to move his hand again; deliberately smooth and quick, catching
Blaine off guard and making him buck up and bite off a yelp.
“I...” Blaine begins, but Kurt’s swiping at the head of his cock and tracing it
down the ridge below that and fuck he cannot brain right now. He bites his lip
and arches back in the mattress, his forehead damp, tiny sounds escaping from
his throat as his boyfriend - oh my god, I have a boyfriend and he is jerking
me off right now fuck I have a beautiful, sexy boy in bed with me oh god -
never waivers in his task, his eyes fixed on Blaine. Blaine opens his eyes and
sees Kurt, his gaze unwavering, and words spill out of his mouth.
“When...when it happens you’ll just want me to...oh Kurt.
KurtKurtKurtfeelssogood...you’ll literally beg me to fuck you and I...like
that, oh fuck, like that...Kurt!”
Kurt stops, reaching his hand to the base of Blaine’s cock and squeezing,
knowing he’s terrible but reveling in it anyway. It’s sexy, yes, watching his
boyfriend come loose at the seams in front of him but even more so it is
powerful, this force, and he’s heady with the feeling of unbridled control he
has over the pleasure he can give Blaine. Only me, he thinks as Blaine
whimpers his protests and writhes against Kurt’s wrist.
“Shh, shh,” he coos, “Tell me more and I’ll let you, baby.” Oh my god, I just
said baby, Kurt thinks, and he doesn’t even know where that came from
but fuck did it go straight to his groin.
Blaine nods and Kurt lets go, biting his lip and waiting for Blaine to take
over as he reaches down to push his sweatpants down and take his own cock into
his hand.
He begins to fist himself, a groan tearing out into the silence between them
and Blaine shudders, taking his own dick in hand before speaking.
“You’re going to want me to fuck you, and...and I need to...fuck you are so hot
like that...I need to know how you want me. So there’s no mistakes...do
you...do you want me inside you or...” Blaine groans, his orgasm biting and
clawing its way into his balls and sitting right on the edge. “...or are
you...socloseKurtfucksoCLOSE...are you going to want to fuck...to fuck me?”
Kurt keens, his orgasm ripped from his toes as he pulses hot and quick into his
hand and Blaine shudders out onto his stomach with a cry of “Kurt!” and the
words, “You inside ME, Blaine. You inside me.” in his ears.
Blaine shakes and stills, his muscles twitching and his brain foggy while his
body lulls itself down into the sweet, soft film that is post-orgasm stillness.
He forces his eyes open and looks to Kurt where his boy is breathing quickly,
his chest still rising and falling and his whole body still quaking with
release.
The becoming must be so close, he thinks and he reaches out to smooth his hands
over Kurt’s shuddering form, soothing and stilling him.
Kurt’s eyes blink open and Blaine’s heart clenches in his chest, his eyes
taking in every inch of Kurt’s skin as he speaks.
“Yes, I can do that. I can do that.”
***** Chapter 6 *****
The faucet in the bathroom sink is dripping. It’s a slow drip, once every
minute or so but it is there.
Kurt’s sleeping form crowds around him, his long limbs spread out over the
mattress, head still turned in Blaine’s direction as gentle puffs of sleep-
heavy breaths warm the sheets between them.
They had spoken for hours, soft whispers meeting and mingling in the hushed
comfort of Kurt’s room before his eyelids had gotten heavy and Blaine had
pushed the hair back from his forehead and kissed each of Kurt’s eyelids
murmuring for him to “get some sleep already”. Blaine had quietly snuck from
the room and retrieved the bag Iana had given him, his head humming the mantra
“better safe than sorry”, before climbing back into Kurt’s bed and falling
instantly to sleep.
Now, though, something has woken him and his ears search the room to determine
what it is. His eyes flicker open and glance over at the bedside stand,
catching Kurt’s alarm clock mid-minute change from 2:34 to 2:35am.
Hmm, that never happens, he thinks before regaining his focus. And then...
It’s a gentle sound, a soft purring noise that never would have woken Blaine;
almost like a seamstress tearing silk. A slippery, soft pop and then Blaine
knows what woke him as Kurt’s still sleeping form groans loud and quick, his
hips bucking, before falling still again.
Blaine nods to himself, remembering the sound from the video with Iana, his
hands drawing up to rub over his face as he mentally prepares for what is to
come. His heart threatens to take over, beating faster the more he thinks. He
forces his legs to move silently from the bed, capturing his nerves and
harnessing their energy. He’s going to need it.
“Are you scared?” Blaine asked.
“Not if I’m with you.” Kurt replied.
He swiftly crosses the room, his feet complaining as he reaches the cold tiles
of the bathroom. He flicks on the low light, careful to mostly close the door
first. He pads to the gigantic bathtub, gently easing first the hot then the
cold water on, quietly filling the bathtub before turning back to unpack the
bag from his room.
“What if you want me to and it’s...what if it’s too much?”
“You won’t hurt me, Blaine, I know you won’t...”
He pulls first condoms then lube and places them on the bathroom counter before
resignedly removing the one thing that had made him blush the most when Iana
had given it to him.
Silky smooth and pearly white, it was modest and Blaine’s cheeks burned with
the thought that he might actually use it today. His eyes had widened but Iana
had shushed his nervous stutters and placed it in the bag, insisting that it
would not hurt Kurt and that they would both actually appreciate having the
plug so that Kurt (or Blaine, as the case might have been) would not have to
wait more than was absolutely necessary. He still can’t quite believe that is
happening, but he is glad it is with Kurt. That Kurt had chosen him to take
care of everything.
“But what if, Kurt? I could never forgive myself and I know this is all kind
of sudden for us...I just want to make everything perfect.”
“I...” Kurt had stuttered, turned red, “I’ve been um, practicing for a long
time now, okay? Just...don’t worry...just...take your time and it’ll all work
out, Blaine.”
Blaine’s cheeks flush at the memory and he hurries to turn off the taps. He
tests the water with his wrist and nods to himself, happy that it is the
temperature he needs. Iana had been specific in her instructions. “Don’t pull
at the skin, Blaine, it will rip and tear if you do that. Just be gentle and
knead it free. He glances at the small, sharp scissors on the countertop. Just
the edges, Blaine, when he’s through...keep the strokes quick and even and
there will be no scarring.
Blaine looks in the mirror and swipes once at the foggy glass, searching his
own reflection for worry and sees none. All he can focus on is Kurt. Kurt,
Kurt, Kurt. He breathes out, conscious of his heart beat, beat, beating and
lets his pajama pants whisper to the ground. He watches himself in the mirror,
trying to come to terms with the fact that he’s going to be completely naked
with someone, and soon, as he bends to retrieve the suggested uniform. He
pulls up the under armour. “Really, these?” he had asked Iana, blushing
straight to his toes as she smirked at him. “Yes, Blaine. They aren’t
restrictive, being of the boxer/brief variety, they breathe and they’ll dry
quickly if they get wet. They’re perfect.”
He studies the mirror, twisting and turning as he judges his skin; the fit.
“So...did she tell you that I’ll basically be throwing myself at you?”
Blaine bit his lip before reaching out to cup Kurt’s smooth cheek, his thumb
tracing tiny circles into base of his jaw.
“Yes but Kurt...it doesn’t have to be that way, you know? There are no rules
here. Yes, you’re going to want to touch, to be touched, to feel. But that
doesn’t mean it has to be dirty or wrong or even rushed. It can be
as...sensual and erotic as we make it.”
Kurt flushed crimson at that, and cuddled closer to Blaine’s chest, lips
lightly brushing Blaine’s as he spoke. “That sounds good. Really good.”
“Blaine-”
Blaine startles back to the present, Kurt’s call lifting him from his reverie,
and rushes into the bedroom. Kurt is leaning up, his arms and legs trembling
as his swollen back twists and ripples. The thick pockets on the backs of his
thighs constrict his movements and he’s tangled in the sheets.
“Hey,” he soothes, careful not to touch Kurt yet, “Calm down, I’m here, I’m
going to...I’m going to touch you now, just to pick you up. Be ready for it,
okay? I...I think it’s time now.”
Kurt whimpers in return, his face buried in the pillowcase, back arched,
perforations littering his wasted skin. Blaine reaches out his fingers, the
tips trembling slightly, and brushes Kurt’s arm.
The sound that comes from Kurt’s lips is unreal. Categorization is impossible
but Blaine knows it’s good because Kurt’s hand has reached out and is gripping
blindly at his bicep, kneading and shaking as his body arches toward the touch.
Again comes that gentle ripping sound while rivulets of liquid slide down
Kurt’s arms and onto the bed.
Blaine watches the pink-tinged liquid track down his fingers and jolts to
awareness.
Time. It’s really time.
He reaches out then, gathering Kurt up in his arms and is vaguely aware of
Kurt’s spasms against him, his stomach suddenly wet, Kurt barely cutting out,
“Too much, so much, Blaine, oh god-” before spasming yet again and the wetness
warming anew.
Just my arms around him Blaine has time to think before his concentration
focuses and he maneuvers them through the open bathroom door and into the dimly
lit space, placing Kurt gently in the prepared bath.
Pajama pants he registers, leaning over the bath’s edge to gently yet firmly
pull at the soaked garment. The friction seems to get to Kurt and he rolls
onto his side, away from Blaine, trying to be free of the blistering
wantwantwant burning his veins, Blaine knows, but this must happen if all is to
go as smoothly as possible.
“Kurt, baby?” Blaine breathes, barely speaking. “I...we need to take these
off. Once they’re off everything will be - easier.”
Some mumbled apologies, a few groans and words of soft encouragement from
Blaine and the pants are puddled in the corner, exiled for the night.
Blaine takes a moment and just sees.
Kurt is on his hands and knees, resting the bulk of his weight on his forearms.
The steam from the tub has made his skin soft and ruddy - where there is any
to be seen at all. In his sleep it has thinned - fissures from his movements
growing wider with each arch of his back; every pull of his arm. Between the
tenuous connections each soft plate of skin has a thick, pinkish substance now
flowing freely out, mottling the surface of the bathwater.
His movements are catlike, distinct; his body intuitively seeking relief from
its self-created bounds. Blaine senses are inundated with Kurt’s whimpers, his
smell, the sight of his cock hanging heavy and full again. Blaine feels his
body reacting to the becoming, knows he needs to be with Kurt, beside him.
Within him.
Blaine glances down at the mess on his stomach, cheeks burning, and reaches for
a washcloth, first running it under water and then wiping it through the first
round of Kurt’s apexes. He knows that after the next few Kurt’s body will
simply feel the sensation of orgasm with nothing left to give, but for now
there is still the physical reminder of Kurt’s pleasure, reminding Blaine of
his task here; one he is honored to accept.
He turns back to Kurt and unceremoniously drops the pretense of the underwear.
If he’s being honest, he won’t ever need them.
***
“Blaine, Blaine Blaine...touchmetouchmetouchmetouchme...oh god, I can’t- I
can’t take this I need you. I needIneedIneedIneed...”
***
Blaine climbs into the bath beside Kurt, quietly thanking their predecessors
for anticipating their needs, and begins to run his hands over Kurt’s back.
***
Kurt rocks back into the touch - Blaine’s touch, he tells himself - and moans,
his hips bucking, spilling out into the water and he can’t be embarrassed, he
can’t, because Blaine’s touch is like white heat sending sparks of blatant lust
straight to his core. He feels it everywhere even though Blaine’s fingers are
soothing, kneading at his shoulder blades, the place where the back of his ribs
would be, his thighs. He groans and moves into it, his orgasm ripping through
him again as he lifts his head and wails out into the sweltering bathroom air.
Blaine rubs and soothes, his hands gathering the sticky-sweet liquid there and
gently, gently working at the skin on his back.
Blaine stops his hands and gasps as Kurt's coming down, down, the intense heat
tamped for a moment. He tries to move and feels it, his back bursting open,
wetness running in sheets into the tub as Blaine flicks the drains below them
open. His thighs are tight, tight until Blaine’s hands - Are they shaking? -
are on him again, softly push-pulling over the backs of his legs until the
pressure is too great and he’s shivering, arching again as the thin membranes
there burst, too, and suddenly he can move again and nothing is tight..nothing
at all.
There is no more maddening tug and pull, no more pressure on his legs, his
back, the curve of his ass. He wants to move around and roll over, wants to
feel the relief from all sides.
Mostly he wants Blaine to take away the last ache he has. The burn of
wantwantwantTAKEfuckown that’s pulsing in his veins.
This thought pushes its way to the forefront of his mind and he’s moaning,
rutting into the air at the thought of what Blaine can do to him now that he’s
free. He’s found his voice and is begging, chanting out into the stillness his
desires as Blaine moves to complete this and then make him whole.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Summary
This was orginally written in April of 2012.
Blaine can’t move. Can’t breathe. He’s afraid to touch them, blinded by their
beauty, frozen to the spot. Nothing had prepared him for how he’d feel when
Kurt’s wings were actually in front of him. Sticky wet still, yes, but right
there and begging to be touched. He had felt like this when he first came to
Dalton but had tamped it down, knowing the consequences would be dire to both
himself and the winged. He, expelled; the winged, abused.
But this.
All thoughts of the becoming had left him - his responsibilities, the scissors
next to him, the towels beyond. His eyes were trained on the enchanting beauty
before him and nothing else matters until-
“Blaine, I-” Kurt begins, twisting his shoulders around to look Blaine in the
eyes, “I just really need you. I know there’s more to be done but god this is
frustrating. It’s like I can feel you under my skin, inside me already but...it
aches, Blaine. Please help me.”
It’s then that the sheen catches Kurt’s eye - Blaine sees it, the flick of his
irises to where Kurt can just see the damp waves cascading down his own back-
and he hears his sharp breath as he sees what Blaine has already become
enamored of.
“They-!”
“Yes.” He answers, knowing full well what Kurt is seeing, why he is now
blushing straight down to his toes.
“But I don’t des-”
“Yes. Stop. You do. You are, without a doubt, one of the kindest, gentlest,
most pure people I have ever met, Kurt. It had to show somehow.” Blaine
breathes in and takes one more glance, the starling, dazzling waterfall of
white down Kurt’s back.
He has a quiet moment to be thankful for this honor again before reaching for
the scissors and dragging one hand soothingly down Kurt’s spine.
Kurt reacts immediately, hanging his head down, his body convulsing as he
spills yet again onto the damp porcelain, his cries echoing through the humid
air. Blane bites his lip and clamps down on the base of his own cock, forcing
himself to focus on the task at hand.
He draws his hand back up, wiping away at the remnants of the liquid that had
been protecting Kurt’s growing wings for weeks, the serum that gave each and
every one the fullness and strength Blaine can now see, even in their current
state. He moves his hands over and over, methodically scraping the thickened
substance from the skin on Kurt’s arms and shoulders, the backs of his thighs
and the gentle curve of his ass. He tries to ignore the sway of Kurt’s hips as
he ruts back against Blaine’s hands; the quiet litany of need falling from his
mouth as Blaine completes his first task.
The skin where the feathers had been covering Kurt is soft and baby-pink. Iana
had told him this - that whatever metamorphosis Kurt had gone through would
leave him solid and whole again, despite his weeks of discomfort. Sliding his
fingers over such smooth skin is a revelation and Blaine revels in it, his
hands gliding under Kurt’s wings to find all of the jagged edges that becoming
had left behind. He follows each pass with the small, sharp scissors, clipping
each spot as close to the skin as possible and then collecting the soft lotion-
like liquid left on his skin to smooth and soothe each spot.
When each edge and rip has been attended - from the tops of Kurt’s shoulders to
the backs of his knees - Blaine focuses his eyes on the last spot that needs
attention - the place where each wing emerges from Kurt’s back. After this it
will be just feathers and water and touching, exploring, but Blaine knows from
his training that this place will be the most sensitive and the hardest to
touch. That the attraction between them will tense and snap at these touches if
his focus is anything less than perfect.
Each wing has an area about six inches long that protrudes from Kurt’s back,
right at the apex of his shoulderblades. He’s curled in a tight ball at the
moment, his body overwhelmed from all of Blaine’s touches and snips, and Blaine
knows he’s moments from bursting; from just forcing Blaine to bend to his will
and that’s what spurs Blaine to get this done.
Taking a breath, he reaches out and smoothes his fingers around the base of
each wing.
***
Kurt jolts the moment Blaine’s fingers tighten. Every single neuron in his body
is screaming at him to get up, push Blaine back into the (admittedly
disgusting) tub, and straddle him until he is forced to fix it. Fix it, fix t,
fix it. His shoulders ach from being on his hands and knees for so long and his
body won’t stop shaking and now-
“Blaine...Blaine, I ca-I can’t take it. It’s too much. It’s-it’s so much, Blane
I just need it, god, please fuck me already-”
He cringes at the words falling out of his mouth while the muscles in his lower
abdomen expand and contract, his body mimicking an orgasm even though it has
nothing left to give. He feels electric and raw - his skin too hot and his mind
racing while Blaine murmurs words of patience into his ear, the quiet snick of
the scissors seeming to boom out in the silent room.
He knows Blaine is finished when he hears the scissors returning to the counter
with a small ting, and then he’s up and twisting round, pulling Blaine with him
and sliding his hands down low, low, cupping Blaine’s balls and licking into
his mouth as Blaine mewls into his own, shocked into submission by Kurt’s
sudden movement. He is bold, gripping Blaine’s cock with eager hands, Blaine
fucking up into his grasp and pulling his mouth off Kurt’s to admonish him, his
hands coming down to stop Kurt's.
“K-Kurt, wait, I-” he whines, unable to stop the quick jerk of his hips, the
quickening of his pulse as he ratchets closer and closer, clawing at Kurt’s
fingertips.
“No,”Kurt growls, ignoring the shaking in his legs, the wet, as-yet-unwashed
feathers sticking to his back, his thighs, as he focuses solely on Blaine’s
pleasure in this moment and cocks an eyebrow before continuing. “It’s okay,
Blaine. Let me...it won’t be the last time tonight, trust me - you’re not
getting off that easily.”
Blaine huffs out a laugh and is gritting out his pleasure; muttered words as
his hands scrabble behind Kurt to pull the enormous curtain closed and turn on
the shower head before leaning into Kurt’s chest, letting the hot water take
over. Kurt shudders as it hits his feathers, the sensation new and not entirely
unwelcome. He feels the last vestiges of whatever was there slipping away, down
his legs and out the drains and then Blaine is running his fingers down his
wings and he’s shivering, leaning down to capture Blaine’s mouth as Blaine
shouts his release, coming between them, his come rinsing away with everything
else.
Blaine grips him tightly as they sink to the floor, Kurt’s wings pooling around
him like a mantle. They let the water run, each man taking a moment to catch
his breath.
“Well,” Kurt starts just as Blaine begins with, “That was-”
They both laugh affectionately, Kurt’s body still consumed with the need to be
taken, completed. He tries to ignore it, waiting for Blaine to show signs of
being ready, to take the reins.
He doesn’t need to wait long.
Moments later Blane is up, pushing Kurt’s shoulder gently when he tries to
stand, his eyes scolding as he steps out of the tub. He’s gathering towels,
taking one and hastily rubbing himself down before glancing up at Kurt to
ascertain his preparedness.
Kurt knows he’s gawking, his eyes glued to Blaine’s trim waist, the sparse hair
on his chest and torso, and his perfect cock, half-hard again already, the head
flushed red. Inviting.
And then Blaine’s blushing, lifting a hand to tangle in the hair at the back of
his neck and Kurt is almost bowled over by the love he feels in this moment,
the appreciation for what Blaine has given him.
His own pace.
His own choices.
His own limits.
Blaine moves forward then, two towels ready for his sopping wings as Kurt rises
to meet him.
***
Some time later they are wrapped together on Kurt’s bed, hips gently rocking as
Kurt’s fingers map each contour of Blaine’s body and Blaine’s hands run up and
over the arch of Kurt’s wings.
Each touch of Blaine’s fingers through his feathers gives Kurt pause as he
whimpers against Blaine’s chest and Blaine marvels at both Kurt’s reaction and
the softness surrounding his fingers.
Eventually, though, their need outweighs the newness of discovery and Blaine
finds himself reaching for the lube he brought from the bathroom, slicking his
fingers and settling Kurt onto the bed, his stomach pressed softly into the
sheets.
Blaine moves to spread Kurt's legs, his breath coming in pants as he spreads
his ass wide to see and touch. Blaine can’t help himself, really, when he leans
in to breath over Kurt’s opening and then lick lightly, teasingly as his
fingers play at the rim and Kurt groans into the mattress.
“Ohhhhhh my goddddd,” comes his voice from the sheets, “Just - don’t stop that,
okay? So good, Blaine...”
Blaine licks again in earnest, lapping gently and evenly as his fingers massage
and push at Kurt’s tight opening. He’s humming low in his throat as Kurt
whimpers into the sheets and then his tongue is breaching Kurt’s hole and
fucking in slowly, surely, his fingers nudging and soothing as he goes.
Kurt’s back goes rigid and he’s thrusting his ass into Blaine’s face as his
wings jump up and shudder, another orgasm ripping through his body as Blaine
tongues him through it, pulling back to push in his finger to the hilt.
Kurt lifts up his head and gasps, begging for more, for Blaine, but Blaine
knows it would be too much and so he pauses, rotating his finger inside of
Kurt, stretching, opening, bending the tight muscle to his will as Kurt begs
above him.
“Shh, shhh...” he soothes, bringing his face away from Kurt’s ass long enough
to pull out his finger and add another, “It’s okay, baby, I can’t wait to feel
you...so tight, so hot, Kurt, god.”
Something like a sob comes from Kurt’s lips and he’s burying his head in the
sheets again, teeth ripping and holding as he fights for self-control.
Blaine works him through well, though, and Kurt is open and pliant beneath him
in minutes, his asshole thoroughly worshiped and tongued, lubed and ready as
Blaine stands up to clean up his mouth and get a condom.
Kurt protests,whining out his displeasure, as Blaine rushes to the bathroom.
“Blaaaine,” he complains, his body betraying him, fucking into the sheets,
“It’s fine, you don’t neeeed it. Just...come back, okay? I know we’re safe.”
Blaine looks up from the sink and stares into Kurt’s eyes through the mirror.
Yes, they are fogged with lust but there is truth there, and trust. He turns to
look at Kurt, who has pushed himself up onto his knees in the middle of the
bed, hands in his lap, his white wings stark against the black sheets.
He is the most beautiful thing Blaine has ever experienced.
Blaine drops the condom to the floor and makes for the bed, kneeling on the
edge and cupping Kurt’s face in his hands, kissing him deeply.
When he pulls back Kurt is shaking again, but then again, so is he.
“I-” Kurt begins, his face reddening as he casts his eyes down, “I-”
“Shh, just tell me,” Blaine soothes, daring to run his fingers through one of
Kurt’s wings and earning a groan of pleasure straight from his lover’s throat.
“I want to ride you.” Kurt proclaims, biting his lip and looking up at Blaine
expectantly.
Blaine slumps forward, his forehead bumping with Kurt’s and staying there.
“Holy shit Kurt, you can’t just...are you sure I won’t hurt you?”
“No,” Kurt whispers, their lips almost touching, hot breath mixing with hot
breath, “I’ll control it this way and you...you just let me enjoy the ride.”
Blaine laughs out loud into the bedroom, grateful that he’s already come
because just Kurt’s words have made him hard again.
“Lay down on the bed.” Kurt commands.
Blaine grins at him and grabs Kurt’s pillows, arranging them on the headboard
and leaning back, his cock laying thick and heavy against his abdomen, the
slick-sheen moisture there spreading, marking.
“God, I want to taste your cock,” Kurt whispers and Blaine’s eyes widen, Kurt’s
words a shock even at this stage in the game.
Kurt tears his eyes away from it, searching Blaine’s face for his reaction and
grinning, “I know, it doesn’t sound like me, but...holy shit but do you look
fucking delicious. So gay. So, so gay.”
Blaine laughs then, the seriousness of the moment not lost but completely put
into perspective at Kurt’s words. Sex doesn't have to be so dramatic. Sex can
be playful and fun and...well, sexy.
“Enough talking, more riding,” he teases and Kurt’s eyes are worth the
momentary whoosh of fear in his stomach that his words are too much, their
pupils growing impossibly larger, his lips twisting into a seductive smirk.
“I thought it was me who was supposed to be im-.” he chides, climbing onto the
bed and over Blaine while both spreading his ass open with one hand and taking
Blaine’s rigid cock into the other, rubbing it teasingly over his stretched
hole, “-patient.” He finishes, rocking down onto Blaine slowly, just enough for
his cockhead to breach the rim.
“Ohhh,” Kurt whispers as he feels his muscles tighten, fighting the intrusion.
Fear washes over him then. What if I can’t do this? What if? his brain supplies
as he quietly starts freaking out. But then Blaine’s fingers curl softly into
his feathers, stroking, pulling, coaxing invisible strings of desire out and
up, up through his veins and down to his ass, his muscles, relaxing,
controlling.
It’s a wonder he doesn’t just push himself down right then.
He bites his lip instead and pushes gently, slowly, the stretch just this side
of too much, too painful and then his muscles yield, conforming to the ridges
of Blaine’s cock.
Blaine watches it all from his place on the bed, his mouth slack, his brain
forcing his eyes to stay open to see Kurt sink down on his cock, inch after
tight inch. Before long Blaine is searching Kurt’s eyes with his own, Kurt
seated, fully sheathed, in his lap, his hands gripping Blaine’s ribs for
support as Blaine’s own hands grip the sheets with balled fists while he
breathes shallowly through his nose.
Kurt is whining, barely moving as he jerks his hips back just once and reseats,
his wings lifted high, their white feathers glistening and fluttering in the
low light.
“God, Kurt,” Blaine grits out, his voice low, abused. “You took it all. All of
me- fuck. You’re amazing...you feel amazing. So tight, Kurt I-”
He can’t finish because Kurt has jerked his hips back again, slipping his cock
almost all the way out just to grind himself quickly back down as Blaine pants
out his pleasure, choked off words of affirmation and love while Kurt’s lost,
the extreme stretch of Blaine’s cock inside him, the power of knowing he did
this, he took all of Blaine, that he’s taking Blaine closer and closer and he
can’t - he can’t-
His wings come crashing down around them, shrouding them in a cave of feathers
and heat as Kurt rides harder, his hips snapping up quick and dirty, Blaine
fingers seeking, tugging at the feathers above them and Kurt snaps, his muscles
contracting around Blaine and squeezing as he slumps onto Blaine’s chest, lungs
heaving and knees shaking.
“Finish fucking my ass, Blaine, c’mon baby,” he pleads, chin up, eyes owlishly
monitoring Blaine’s face as he groans and holds tight, pistoning his hips up
into Kurt’s sensitive flesh.
“Kurt- Kurt-” he chants and comes, shooting deep into Kurt’s body, shaking out
into his release as Kurt hums above him, his wings pulling up and off of them
both.
***
“I love you,” he whispers into Kurt’s hair as they settle in a bit later, the
lights all off, each man wiped clean, Kurt’s long wings spread out over the
bedspread.
That night, Blaine dreams of flying.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Summary
**NEW CHAPTER** December 2013
When Kurt wakes the next morning he finds them on their stomachs, his left leg
wrapped around Blaine, one wing trapped under himself and the other draped
lazily over Blaine’s back. He reaches up with his left hand to trace the
feathers, their snow-white down taking his breath and making him feel like
crying. The touch doesn’t hurt; it’s the idea that some cosmic force in the
universe decided that he is worth this, the pure beauty of white wings.
He also realizes it will make him even more of a target.
He shakes the thought out of his head as he lets his body wake up, taking stock
of Blaine and his gentle breathing beside him. He is asleep, his slumber
occasionally punctuated with soft sounds, little mewls and jerks that Kurt
hasn’t noticed before. On the third occurrence, Kurt decides to investigate
Blaine further, his mind suddenly worried that he had somehow hurt his
boyfriend in the night.
He looks at Blaine’s face first, the lashes fanned across his cheek, lips
closed tight and irises moving under satin-smooth eyelids. Nothing seems amiss
so he moves on, checking for scratches along Blaine’s forearms where he’s
gripping his pillow and finding nothing again.
Its when he reaches Blaine’s back that things get interesting.
At first Kurt thinks that he’s scratched Blaine’s back somehow, purple welts,
long and thin, criss-crossing his skin.
Was it when we-? Kurt blushes in realization, Blaine had been on his back the
entire time.
He sits up, ready to explore some more, when Blaine makes a soft hiss of pain
and moves slightly in his sleep. Kurt watches, face a mask of realization, as
one of the welts seems to grow and fill, the affected area of skin doubling
immediately. Kurt is awestruck. It had taken weeks for Kurt’s skin to do this
very same thing, but it seems that Blaine is on the fast-track, his body in
overdrive for...becoming.
Kurt bites his lip in wonder and his mind begins to race. Does it always happen
like this? When you help someone become, you yourself become? He thinks back
to class and his face falls remembering that no, that’s not how it works at
all. You either do or you don’t and it seems that Blaine is definitely going
to have wings, beautiful, glorious, dangerous wings just like Kurt.
His family will be so proud.
Kurt pauses at that, and hopes that Blaine’s relatives treat him like Kurt
himself had been treated by his own father - with respect and protection.
He takes in his own wings again, flexing them open and testing how far he can
spread them. Ne notices with pride the length of his wings, knowing that very
few sets ever go beyond the bottom on one’s buttocks with him own stopping just
at the backs of his knees. He realizes with a grin that he will have to re-
learn to sit without hurting himself.
He can’t bring himself to care.
Blaine groans and Kurt watches again, the muscles on Blaine’s back
constricting, the welts doubling again and now almost half of his back is
obscured.
Kurt realizes if he continues at this rate his time of becoming will be less
than two days.
It’s a thought that’s both unsettling and enthralling.
On the one hand it means that Blaine will not be able to care for Kurt with
aftercare like he was going to. Kurt will have to do that himself, and satisfy
his own thoroughly insatiable and mind blowing at the moment need to
have release, to come and fuck and be claimed again and again. He is going to
have to facilitate this.
On the other, Blaine is going to become and Kurt will be there and they would
be together and experience the high at the same time and-
Kurt suddenly shivered with self-doubt. What if-
What if Blaine wanted someone else to be there for him? What if-
No, impossible. They will just need to discuss it. As soon as Blaine
wakes....if Kurt can just be patient. He looks to Blaine’s sleeping form and
tries to have patience. Tries to hold himself together but...
He shakes Blaine’s shoulder.
***
He feels his back, like it’s splitting in two, before he feels Kurt shaking
him. He wants to turn over but damn does his back hurt.
He decides not to move and instead groans.
“Good morning,” he rumbles as he opens his eyes. He tries to sit up and stops,
his back muslces like boulders holding him down. “What-”
“You’re becoming,” Kurt says, eyes dark but body held in check just beside
Blaine. “I woke up and you were making noises, I-”
Blaine feels his back ripple and groans in pain.
“Yes, just like that,” Kurt continues, “and it’s so fast, Blaine. I mean, if
this keeps going like this we’ll see your wings in something like two days.”
Kurt draws his fingers down Blaine’s cheek and Blaine knows his face is
registering shock.
Two days? How can I even be ready in two days? Will Kurt want to-
“Do you,” Kurt begins, but blushes dark even though, since he sat up, Blaine
can see the deep red of his cock, heavy and full between his legs. “I mean,
you’re going to have to think about who you want to-”
“You,” Blaine gasps, watching Kurt begin to stroke himself. “Of course you,
didn’t you hear me last night?”
Kurt stills on his knees, wings open wide behind him, cock bouncing a bit from
his shaking legs.
“What did you say?”
Blaine elbows his way up, shimmying and swinging his legs a bit off the bed
until he’s kneeling next to it, stretching his back far too much but ignoring
the pain, and looks up at Kurt.
“I said I love you,” he intones, locking eyes with Kurt and holding. “I do. I
know it hasn’t been that long but I do. I don’t care if you say it back, but I
know it’s true for me. I know I love you and want to take care of you and be
with you as long as you’ll let me...which is pretty much the cheesiest thing
out of a dumb rom-com that I could ever say, wow.”
He cringes a bit, but Kurt just slides his knees across the bed and bends,
wings engulfing them again, his lips connecting with Blaine’s. He seeks
entrace to Blaine’s mouth and Blaine grants it, moaning against Kurt’s
confident strokes. He can feel how much Kurt wants - it’s in the air around
them and every touch of Kurt’s fingertips.
He breaks the kiss.
“Let me taste your cock,” he says, hoping not to sound the fool. “I want to
help you somehow and I think this’ll work.”
Kurt tosses his head back and makes some sound Blaine can’t even fathom and
pulls at the tips of his wings before looking back at Blaine. Blaine can see
it stamped all over his face: the war between what his body needs and what his
mind knows of Blaine’s condition.
“I-” Kurt begins, rubbing his hands roughly down his own thighs. “I can’t ask
you to-”
“You didn’t ask me,” Blaine reminds him, reaching out with his arms to tug at
Kurt’s bent knees. “I requested and I would really, really appreciate it if
you would let me. God knows what I’ll be asking of you in a couple days.”
Kurt lets go, then, and the overwhelming need flows over Blaine in intense
waves. Kurt crawls the rest of the way to Blaine and puts his cock in Blaine’s
face.
“Suck,” he demands, slipping his fingers into Blaine’s hair. “I need it, fuck,
thank you, Blaine.”
Blaine takes a moment to grin - the blushing Kurt he knows long-gone at the
moment - and takes the whole of Kurt’s length in his mouth.
He cant move much, the pain in his back having increased tenfold in the short
span of their conversation, but Kurt takes over, anyway.
Kurt swivels his hips, entering Blaine’s mouth at his own pace as Blaine takes
deep breaths through his noce to keep up. He licks and sucks, laughing when
Kurt gets too overzealous and the head of his dick spears Blaine’s chin. Kurt
doesn’t even pause, just cuts out a laugh that molds itself into a groan when
Blaine takes him back in, fighting hard to take him deep and into his throat.
He gets closer and closer to this personal goal when Kurt speeds up, gripping
Blaine’s hair hard.
“I...I-” Kurt gasps, and Blaine focuses his efforts with sucking lips and
gripping hand, before pulling back to let Kurt come on his face.
Kurt jerks and fails to breath, which would make Blaine nervous if he didn’t
look so broken open with pleasure.
“So fucking hot, Kurt,” Blaine murmurs, come on his cheek and nose. “But, um…”
Kurt shakes and giggles.
“Let me-” he replies, trying to move and tripping himself, “-just...okay, legs.
Yes. Let me get you something.”
Blaine waits as Kurt gets a hand towel from the basket of supplies. IT’s soft
and perfect on his face and, with no distraction, he can feel the weight of his
becoming racing down his spine and across the back of his ribcage.
“WHy is it happening this way?” he grits out, gripping the edge of the bed with
white knuckles. “It...it really hurts, Kurt. I mean, I know it hurts in
general, but oh my-”
Blaine doesn’t finish, he just closes his eyes and shudders. It’s like feeling
pain actually becoming tangible in his very bones.
“I don’t know,” Kurt replies, picking up some clothing. “But we’re going to
find out.”
***** Chapter 9 *****
“I mean, it’s never happened.”
Blaine’s father just stares at Iana and Dr. Togapi.
“This simply cannot be true,” Dr. Anderson argues. “It’s not as if either of
you have the entirity of Alegerian history memorized-”
Kurt resists the urge to kick the man.
They’ve been in the meeting over an hour now, and all Kurt can think about is
getting back to Blaine. Both to check on him and to assuage the hormones
coursing through his own body that are screaming for release. He can
understand why Iana had told him he would need 3-4 days to recuperate, and he’s
only on day 2.
Yesterday had been a nightmare of obtaining permissions and contacting Iana,
Blaine’s parents, and then, historians. Iana had come and spent two hours with
Kurt, instructing him as she had instructed Blaine...then taken twenty minutes
with Blaine to assess and console him as he sweated out a fever and writhed on
the bed Kurt had become in. An hour more brought terrible gutteral groans from
his mouth and tears, too, as his body charged through the stage of becoming in
hours instead of weeks, and Kurt could do nothing but hold him lightly and
bathe him gently with a sponge.
Blaine, for his part, had tried to help Kurt as well. When he had woken in the
dead of night to Kurt twitching on the bed, trying to ride his own hand, he had
taken one of the three pills Iana had left and gingerly brought himself to his
knees, angling his body so that he could crouch over Kurt and hold the
headboard. Kurt had managed to take Blaine into his own mouth and entice him
to full hardness as the medication took hold, and then had arranged himself
under Blaine in such a way that he was able to impale himself on Blaine’s cock
again and again, bringing both himself and Blaine off with keening moans.
Kurt aches with need, but he doesn’t want anyone in this room, that’s for sure,
so he just listens and bites his tongue as both sides argue.
“Actually,” Iana answers, turning an icy glare on Blaine’s father, “I earned my
doctorate early in Alegerian History - yay home schooling! - and Dr. Togapi
here is a consultant to the ANHM. Apparently you didn’t read the pampthlet too
well.”
Blaine mother smiles, then, and Kurt can at last see a light at the end of the
tunnel.
“We’ll allow it, even though no one knows how or why it’s happening this way,”
she says then, putting a hand to her husband’s knee when he opens his mouth to
object. “Kurt may not have the training but I’ve talked with my son enough to
know that he cares deeply for Kurt and that he’s as scared as we are and this
is happening to him. His needs should be considered before all else here.”
Dr. Anderson sways a bit and scowls but remains silent.
“Kurt, honey?”
Kurt stands, fingers twining in the feathers behind his back.
“Can you tell Blaine that we approve his choice and that you will be the only
one to see him until after the becoming? I would go, but I think-” She breaks
off, glancing at Iana, who nods minutely, “-I think he just wants you right
now, considering his condition.”
Kurt nods, too, and makes for the door.
“Kurt?” Blaine’s mother says, and he turns, eyebrow raised.
“Thank you for loving my son.”
He beams, then, and rushes to get to Blaine.
***
The seams burst.
A quiet, serrated sound that seems to come from Blaine’s bones.
He has a moment to wonder where Kurt is, but the intense thrill of becoming
courses through him and he can’t think at all...not about anything but the
irrepressible need to be touched; to be held and taken over.
His body is electric, and he feels quite unlike himself. Like he could growl
or beg - two things he’s never really thought about doing before. He can feel
it working out of him from his core; his body gearing up and pushing out,
trying to plump up his wings and make him move. And he wants, oh he wants more
than even last night and the night before when Kurt had needed, needed, needed
him.
He rocks against the sheets and quickly comes, rattling and shaking out of his
own skin as more pockets of fluid burst and run down his back, and he can’t
help when he ruts in his own come like some animal possessed.
He does register the click of the lock and the turning of the knob, although
only as a means to an end as Kurt is the only one who has the keys right now.
As if through a fog, he says Kurt’s name, desperately seeking release.
***
“Kurt-”
It’s garbled but Kurt understands it, and from the looks of things he’s a
little bit late to the party.
Blaine’s lying mostly on the bed, his arms draped down and grazing the floor.
His back has already started breaking apart, and the thick, cloying smell of
the fluid within hangs heavy in the air.
As well as the force of Blaine’s want.
Kurt is almost bowled over by it, and it meets and mimics his own state of
being in a way that lights a flame down his spine and under his feet, pushing
his whole self to Blaine at once.
“Blaine,” he gasps, tugging his arms up gently and watching a pocket burst and
stream. “Come on, let me hel-, please let me help us, okay?”
Blaine nods crazily, his eyes closed and chest heaving as Kurt helps him to his
feet, leaving little puddles on the floor on their way to the bathroom.
Kurt reaches an awkward arm out and his hand connects with the lightswitch,
earning them both a shock from the bright, bright overhead lights.
“I’m sorry,” Kurt mumbles as he maneuvers Blaine to the wall and leans him
there next to the toilet. “I had to wait until your parents granted permission
and your dad was-”
Blaine snorts and so Kurt nods.
“Exactly. But your mom gave me permission so I’m here,” Kurt tosses the words
over his shoulder as he turns the faucets and clicks the drains closed. “Hold
on, Blaine. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”
Blaine nods and stands there, body shaking and liquid cooling in strings on his
legs. Kurt can see even more, now, and it looks like the wings will be just to
the bottom curve of Blaine’s ass.
Perfect.
He puts his hand in the water and hisses, but doesn’t cool it off before
heading to Blaine, stripping of his own clothes as he walks. He takes one
moment - the slightest moment - to feel his own wings on the backs of his
thighs, and smiles.
“C’mon baby. Let’s get those things out.”
***
The intake of breath registers to Blaine because, with Kurt’s help, he’s come
three more times since his own moment in the bed.
“What is it?” he asks, the bath - and a whole lot of his own skin - cooling
around him.
“I-” Kurt begins behind him, the little clippers snipping and tugging just a
bit at the spaces where Blaine knows he’s still encased. “I mean, I thought
they were-”
Blaine tries to turn his head, but Kurt taps his shoulder slightly.
“Don’t do that, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, but-”
Blaine already saw.
His wings, which Kurt had said were the color of his hair - a beautiful, deep
almost-black - are...not.
Laced through, criss-crossing the deep dark, are startling, beautiful pure
white streaks.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
Reminder:
Dr. Togapi: Dr. TOE-GAH-PEE
”Don’t-”
Kurt pauses, barely hanging onto his willpower.
“I mean,” Blaine grits out, his wings still dripping, the bath, clean and new,
sloshes and steams around them, "don’t be so gentle,fuck me, dammit.”
Kurt doesn’t need to be told twice. He pushes in, deep, deeper than he had
been, and groans out long and loud while Blaine grips the porcelain and yells
out, flexing his wings.
Black and white shine and dance in front of Kurt's eyes as he lets go, twisting
his hips and burrowing into Blaine in a perfect, terrible rhythm that takes the
breath from both their lungs.
“Ye-” Blaine tries, but fails as Kurt’s hips beat staccato measures against his
ass, and he has to bite his own shoulder to feel like he can hold on.
“Fuck, yes,Kurt, fuck me, fuck me-”
***
Three days.
It takes three days before either one of them want to leave the room.
They order up food, which, according to them both, is the best thing that the
Academie allows other than choosing a Becoming partner. They send out linens
thanks to Blaine’s parents.
It’s almost like being in a hotel, or at least that’s what Blaine says to Kurt
on day two after their third set of sheets for the day.
All told they kiss and fuck and cuddle over and over until their bodies are
sated and they feel like themselves again.
And talk.
Sometimes it’s light; lilting and melodious in the way two stories combine to
begin as a new tale, and Kurt’s heart could burst with it.
Other times it’s confession - stolen moments as their bodies cool after meeting
and owning each other anew - where Kurt breaks down about his mother’s death or
Blaine recalls being hit - scarred - by others for his race and preferences.
And the last - and maybe most precious - are the midnight wakings of both Kurt
and Blaine in turn; watching as the other sleeps, keeping watch as time and
circumstance change both their lives.
It is beautiful and terrifying, and both are glad to have the other.
***
“Hello, Dr. Togapi?”
Kurt taps the bedspread nervously and watches Blaine. He's at the mirror,
staring at his own wings over his shoulder. They are dry now, and beautiful,
hanging to the exact point Kurt had envisioned.
Every feather is both black and white.
After much inspection they had found that even the blackest feathers had white
on the underside or near the quill where it remained hidden unless Blaine had
them fully spread. Kurt’s going to leave out how he found that out.
He listens as Dr. Togapi sends his congratulations to Blaine.
“Yes, thank you, sir. I will be sure to tell him.” Kurt lifts an eyebrow to
Blaine, who’s slipping on a t-shirt with slits down the back; new clothes his
parents had sent with openings and closures for his new fit. “I’m calling,
though, because Blaine and I would like to come and see you, to ask something
about his wings? We don’t-”
Kurt cuts off, searching for his words.
“-we’d prefer to make it as private as possible, because-”
Dr. Togapi breaks in, and Kurt nods enthusiastically, heart hammering.
“Yes, I think that would be perfect. See you soon.”
He turns to Blaine.
“He’s coming up.”
Blaine just nods and turns his eyes to the television.
”Dr. Aristas Flax is back in Washington today to support the Alergerian
Protection Bill. The Bill, underwritten by Flax himself, has gained notoriety
in the past few weeks as sting operations in Washington, Columbus, and New York
have smoked out Alergerian prostitution rings and brought to light more and
more Alergerian Trafficking violations-”
Blaine looks up at Kurt, who’s holding the remote and grimacing at Blaine.
“The last few days have been so perfect,” he says softly, crossing the room and
opening Blaine’s arms to snuggle deeply into his chest. “I really dont’t want
to think about life outside these walls just yet.”
Blaine nods and puts his chin on Kurt’s head and both boys open their wings and
pull each other tight.
A feathered, loving fortress around them both.
***
“They really are something else entirely,” Dr. Togapi says, putting away his
stethoscope. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with you. Your heart rate has
returned to normal and your skin is healed-”
Blaine feels fingers run along the new skin at his back - where he knows he’s
mostly healed - and shudders.
‘Sorry,” he says, mortified. “Tickles still.”
Dr. Togapi laughs and Blaine is grateful he never tried to touch his wings.
“Well,” their headmaster continues, “I’ll call Iana and see if she can make it
back here in the next few days. I mean, I’ve never heard of two-color wings.
They are always either the color of the winged’s hair OR white. Never both.”
He smiles at Blaine and heads for the door. “But then again, you’ve done
everything your own way, Mr. Anderson. We’ll figure this out, too. Head to
classes and check in, the teachers are waiting for you”
There are goodbyes all around and then Kurt and Blaine find themselves alone.
“Well,” Kurt begins, his hands in his pockets, “I guess we should do as he
says. There’s nothing more we can do just sitting up here.”
He trails off, watching Blaine watching him, and then Blaine’s moving, cupping
Kurt’s face in his hands.
“Thank you,” Blaine breathes, and kisses Kurt’s lips so, so softly, it aches in
Kurt’s chest.
“I’ll go get my bag,” Kurt replies, wanting to kick himself for his lack of
romanticism. “But...thank you, too.” He quickly kisses Blaine once more and
makes the the door, his wings shuffling and shifting behind him.
***
They make it through all their morning classes in one piece, although the every
class has to delay its beginning for students to ask questions.
“Did it hurt?”
“Wow, you both got them, I mean, how did that happen-?”
“Blaine, you weren’t even-”
And even some from boys who had already become.
“Whoa, so bad-ass, man, the white-”
“Blaine, how are yourstwocolors?”
“How bad was it, because mine wasinsane-”
They answer all of the questions patiently and everyone keeps a respectful
distance, although there is a lot of pointing, and they make it through all the
way to lunch.
“C’mon,” Blaine says, tugging Kurt’s hand, “let’s get in line before all the
chicken caesar salad is gone!”
Kurt groans. He just wants to go upstairs and sleep. Between his own Becoming
and Blaine’s he could use about three more weeks of sleep after all the-
“Yes!” Blaine is holding a plastic container triumphantly over his head and his
wings are spread out just enough to show the beautiful marble contrast that
Kurt just wants to bury his face in.
It’s because of the sleep and the silly plastic container, because of Blaine’s
overeager face and his gorgeous new wings that the hand doesn’t really register
to Kurt at all until it’s actually touching Blaine.
And then everything seems both fast and slow.
The hand reaches for Blaine’s left wing and just…glides through the feathers.
It’s unexpected and so, so taboo here that Kurt doesn’t realize what he’s
seeing at first.
He just knows that the fury that boils up from somewhere unfathomable in his
chest is laced with venom and possession the likes of which he’s never, ever
felt.
And he throws it away from himself in a ferocious, booming wave.
“How dare you,” he shouts, crossing the few yards between himself and Blaine
and tearing at the offending hand.
He looks up, up into the terrified face of a boy - he can’t be older than
fourteen - who’s holding his own hand away from himself as if offended. The
entire eatery has stopped, all the boys’ eyes on the three of them.
“I’m sor-” the boy begins, but he’s cut off by Wes.
“Why did you do that?” Wes demands, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders
and tugging him away. “I am responsible for you, and I told you you couldn’t
do-”
“Wait.”
One word, and everyone’s eyes are back on Blaine.
“I’m really sorry, Blaine,” Wes begins, putting his hands out plaintively.
“I’m taking him on the tour and I stopped to talk to Tyler and-”
“It’s fine,” Blaine replies in monotone as he turns to the boy and addresses
him. “What’s your name?”
“Thomas,” the boy whispers, the tips of his right hand still extended away from
his body like a brand.
“Thomas,” Blaine continues, moving a bit closer to the boy and holding out a
hand when Kurt moves to stop him. “I’m going to need you to trust me.” He
looks up at everyone in the room and speaks even louder.
“I’m going to need you all to trust me.”
He looks into Kurt’s eyes as he says it and, although every nerve in his body
is screaming no!, Kurt nods.
“Okay, so Thomas,” Blaine says, standing almost beside him now. “I want you to
trust me, okay?”
Thomas nods.
“I am going to hold onto your hand. Please. Please let me do this, okay?”
Thomas nods again, this time with more confidence.
Kurt watches - they all watch - as Blaine takes Thomas’ wrist and pulls him
closer, reaching behind himself and-
There’s a gasp from the back of the room, and Kurt barely holds himself where
he stands.
Thomas’ fingertips glide doesn Blaine’s feathers, over and over, until Blaine
lets go. Thomas’ hands keep going, though, reveling in their softness and
beauty.
Wes is the first to speak.
“Blaine? I mean, are you-”
“I’m fine,” Blaine answers, awed. “I mean...it’s fine. There’s-”
Kurt bites his lip, tears filling his eyes.
“I don’t feel...anything.”
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